This is what I’ve always wanted to do.

It made me smile, because, as unglamorous as it is juggling two or three different gigs to pay the bills, it’s fabulous to be able to say that one is doing exactly what fulfills his or her dreams. I realized that although I don’t have a 9-5 or a company-sponsored 401K, I get up in the morning and can say that I am living the dream.

I have time to work on my own creative goals. I get to exercise my critical skills and educational muscles on a daily basis. I set my own schedule. I have time to spend with family and at church. I work with students from elementary through undergrad, which, I have to say, builds material for future writing projects. I have time to read and stay connected with what’s on bookstore shelves today. I have time to take care of myself, from working out to cooking healthy to keeping my living space neat and tidy. I have time to keep in touch with my friends from out of state.

I am so grateful for this phase of my life. I know it will shift. I know one day publishing deadlines and other responsibilities will start to infringe on some of the freedoms. But for now, I’m enjoying every moment.

This week has been a bit sad for me. My heart has felt heavy and broken. Taking the time to reflect on all of the blessings that fill my life has been like salve on a wound. Trying to keep things in perspective.

<3

http://hillaryhomzie.com/2012/01/dear-frustrated-almost-published-and-almost-agented-writer/

You want to read this book!

A few weeks ago, I tore through Veronica Roth’s Divergent and I was so sad to turn the last page on my Nook. Tris was such a great character. Her transformation from a submissive member of the Abnegation faction that doesn’t know if she truly fits, to a fearless member of the Dauntless faction working hard to shed the nickname of “stiff,” to a self-aware Divergent ready to kick butt and take names was beautiful to watch. Tris’ growth was organic and never seemed over the top or overdone. Cliche and stereotype were rare finds in this book, and Tris was no exception. I have to say that I did roll my eyes a bit at her cluelessness in the romance that begins to develop, but then again, my 16-year-old self was just as clueless, if not more.

I was met with surprises throughout a plot that diverted (hehe) from the typical, run-of-the-mill dystopia, while still keeping true to popular themes in young adult science fiction, such as the confused protagonist has a skill and stubbornness that will help save the world that is seen in books like Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games and Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game. Readers root for Tris in, what I’ve noticed in retrospect, was a very Hunger Games-esque trial of skill in order to be initiated into the Dauntless faction. Her role as ‘savior,’ however, didn’t just come out of nowhere. With her father in leadership, and in the public eye, it made sense for her to take action to clear his name, revealing faction secrets in the process that could start the war they attempted to avoid by creating the factions. I guess I’ll have to wait until book two to find out if it gets that far.

By the end, I was ready to pre-order book two, and get a tattoo to match the three Tris gets during her Dauntless initiation. I highly recommend this book, just be prepared to procrastinate on all other life activities in order to reach its exciting conclusion.

1. Finish my MFA

2. Get published

3. Learn to sew with a sewing machine

4. Keep up my blog (at least three posts a month)

5. Keep in touch with my out-of-state writing friends

6. Read more

7. Complete a draft of Book 2

8. Get a bicycle

9. Take at least one trip outside of my city and state

10. Host more soirees

11. Learn to purchase and prepare meats for the non-vegetarians in my life

12. Take Riley to the dog park more often

Twelve goals.

Twelve months.

2012.

Bring on the adventures!

Lesson learned: Rather than explaining the main character’s actions to the secondary characters, a technique to “show” would be to put the secondary character in the midst of the event that is causing the main character to act the way he or she does.

In Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, the author takes the tell approach. Leslie tells Jesse that the reason Janice Avery, the school bully, acts out is because her home situation is less than ideal. The Almond approach would have Jesse and Leslie witness a glimpse of Janice’s poor home life, maybe as a relative drops her off, or overhearing a phone conversation or overhearing a snippet of a parent-teacher  conference with a relative of Janice.

This is definitely a technique I’ll be filing away for future use.

The Watson family moves to Stoneygate, an old coal-mining town, to care for Kits recently widowed grandfather. When Kit meets John Askew, another boy whose family has both worked and died in the mines, Askew invites Kit to join him in playing a game called Death. As Kits grandfather tells him stories of the mines past and the history of the Watson family, Askew takes Kit into the mines, where the boys look to find the childhood ghosts of their long-gone ancestors. Written in haunting, lyrical prose, Kits Wilderness examines the bonds of family from one generation to the next, and explores how meaning and beauty can be revealed from the depths of darkness.

So I open the book to the beginning and start reading. And then it hits me. I’m at the end! Or at least, that’s where Almond started. These kids come out of the wilderness after what has clearly been an ordeal and are welcomed home. They are safe. Now the first chapter is littered with question-raisers that make me say, “ooo, what happened?” And even though I know that, in the end, things will be okay, it doesn’t stop me from reading the book. Which is totally not what my gut reaction is to already knowing the main characters are safe and will make it home.

I encountered this same technique in Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. Death narrates this haunting tale of a young German girl living in World War II Munich. Throughout the whole story, Death keeps giving away the end with lines like “It’s a shame he didn’t know he’d not be around to see it…” or “If only she would have known he’d be gone…” etc. I was kind of mad, like “why are you telling me this???” But then, the end happened, and despite the spoilers, I was totally engrossed in the story and even shocked by what happened. I knew it was coming, but Zusak had left a few surprises at the end.

When considering where to start the novel in my own work, a question all writers pine over for what seems like ages, I have to consider this “start at the end” approach. Do you think it’s more helpful or harmful to readers? I think if done right, it can have a mind-blowing effect. Like, here’s something you’ll come to expect and then, BOOM! Here’s what really happened – an angle you would have never thought I’d take – which is exactly what happens in Zusak’s novel and what I expect will happen in Almond’s. But my natural inclination as a writer is, “Ooo, I don’t want to spoil it!” What do you guys think?

I know, I know – Don’t judge a book by its cover (or title), but I just couldn’t help myself! It just seemed to scream “take me home, you know reading this book will be like looking in a mirror.” And for the most part, I wasn’t disappointed.

According to B&N: Maddy’s life couldn’t get much worse. Her parents split and now she’s stuck in a small town and at a new school. Most of the time, she retreats into her manga art, but when she gets into the Fields of Fantasy online computer game, she knows she’s found the one place she can be herself. In the game world, Maddy can be the beautiful and magical Allora and have a virtually perfect life. And she even finds a little romance. But can Maddy escape her real-life problems altogether, or will she have to find a way to make her real world just as amazing as her virtual one?

 I found a lot of my teen self in Maddy, and I know I probably wasn’t the only reader that felt that way. Her geekiness resounded with me and my interests. Yeah, I was really into World of Warcraft for awhile and shared a lot of Maddy’s feelings of loneliness and being misunderstood by peers. All this to say that I felt like Maddy’s problems were very realistic without being too over the top, which I appreciated. She learns to stand up for herself in front of the mean kids at school as well as to her negligent dad.

What I didn’t appreciate was the overabundance of clichés. Maddy develops a crush on Sir Leo, a guy she met in-game. She’s also crushing on the unattainable Chad, who is part of the popular crowd that calls her “Freak Girl.” The dangers of online predators aside, this book is riddled with improbabilities and cliché teen fantasies. The cute boy who’s friends are jerks but who is “different” at heart – maybe even *gasp* a little nerdy! Who would have thought?! And then he turns out to also play the same Fields of Fantasy game that she does! It’s way too obvious who Sir Leo really is way too early on in the story. It makes Maddy seem just a bit too clueless. Maddy also plays into the clique stereotyping game. She doesn’t want people to judge her solely on her dark makeup and artsy converse, but she’s just as quick to turn around to call the “preppy” kids “Amberzombies” because they wear Polos and slacks. Well, except for Chad of course. He’s not an Amberzombie. He’s different.

What do you guys think? Is it okay to use clichés in a teen novel? Is it almost necessary to play up those clichés to appeal to that age group? Thoughts?

I’ve been following her blog since before she got her agent and have read and watched (she vlogs all the time) her process, getting more and more inspiration for my own writing, from editing tips to what not to do in the world of publishing. I’m currently in the middle of her novel Sisters Red and I love it.

According to the website: Scarlett March lives to hunt the Fenris—the werewolves that took her eye when she was defending her sister Rosie from a brutal attack. Armed with a razor-sharp hatchet and blood-red cloak, Scarlett is an expert at luring and slaying the wolves. She’s determined to protect other young girls from a grisly death, and her raging heart will not rest until every single wolf is dead.

Rosie March once felt her bond with her sister was unbreakable. Owing Scarlett her life, Rosie hunts fiercely alongside her. Now Rosie dreams of a life beyond the wolves and finds herself drawn to Silas, a young woodsman who is deadly with an ax—but loving him means betraying her sister and has the potential to destroy all they’ve worked for.

The dual first person narrative is teaching me a lot about how to handle the possibly-confusing point of view in my own novel (i.e. label the chapters based on who’s POV we’re in – totally a lesson I should have picked up from Maggie Stiefvater’s Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy). Pearce’s balance of description and internal thought keep me in the world without making me feel like the character is just a pawn to move the story along (glares at Water Wars).

I also love that one of the main characters, Scarlett March, is more than just a sexy babe werewolf killer – she bares the scars of her line of work (including a missing eye) and I love her for it. It’s something unique to see in a main character. And best of all – it’s real.

The way Pearce balances the contemporary setting with the “fairytale” aspects is epic. The March sisters live in a cottage in rural Georgia and walk/take the bus to the city for groceries and supplies. Their grandmother is German and gets killed by a Fenris at the beginning of the story, echoing the fairy tale inspiration for the novel. The small city has an apple festival, and their neighbor Silas was ousted from his family for not dropping out of school and following the “woodsman” way. They fight with axes and knives, yet wear jeans and sneakers. There are DVDs and televisions, yet there are forests and werewolves. The balance is perfect and has me thinking about how to take a contemporary novel (a genre that isn’t my favorite to write about) and infusing it with fantasy and sci-fi elements.

I’m only in the first third of the book, but I’m already in love with it and can’t wait to see where it ends up.

This book was great! I usually shy away (i.e. avoid like the plague) from paranormal romance-type books, but this one really captured my attention and kept me turning page after page. I loved that Sophie wasn’t full of angst, didn’t hate her mom, and aside from a few backfired spells she used to try to help her classmates, she was a well-balanced teenage girl just trying to fit in. That was really refreshing to see and made the book enjoyable, proving that main characters can be well-balanced and still be interesting to read about.

The one thing I didn’t like in this book was that when Hawkins was presented with a risk, she backed out. Early on in the novel, Sophie curses what I suppose is an F-bomb, however, the author writes “’Screw them.’ But I didn’t say ‘screw’.” Instead of just using the actual curse word, Hawkins backed out, whether out of fear for backlash from readers or for some other reason. It may have been the publisher. I don’t know. But it jarred me as a reader. It made me feel like I was reading a censored account of the story, rather than the truth as it happened. I’d almost prefer that Sophie had actually just said “Screw them” and left it at that.

Jackson Pearce’s novel As You Wish, about a girl who finds a genie and then falls in love with him, had one F-bomb in it. It was warranted and fit perfectly with story. However, some readers weren’t as appreciative of that realism, as was evident in their Amazon reviews. However, Pearce stood by her decision to include the word because it makes sense for it to be there. Pearce took the risk and it paid off.

Bottom line: If you’re going to include something risky, even in a marginal way (i.e. only one word) then go all the way with it. Don’t make it half way and then retreat.

• The exposition was extremely minimal, with Hannah narrating and then a few lines of Clay either speaking or thinking through his feelings. I thought this would make for “Talking Head Syndrome,” but that wasn’t the case. Asher infused just the right amount of exposition and narrative to break up the dialogue and/or thought bubbles. I felt lost in the story, rather than jarred and I knew exactly where Clay and/or Hannah were at all times. I was never lost or confused. It’s an art form that I made sure to log a few notes about.

10.     The tone

• Asher takes his message very seriously. With a topic like suicide, it’s a no-brainer. When I first picked up the book, I thought I was going to be depressed, but, although there were times that my eyes watered up, it was a pleasant read. He never let the tone get too dark or depressing and made sure to add moments where the reader could take an emotional breather. I really appreciated the tact Asher used in this. Never once did I feel that the author was making light of the situation or not giving it the solemness it deserved.

11.     The awesomeness (did I say this one already?)

12.     The risk

• Writing about suicide for a teenage audience – partly from the perspective of a girl who already took her life – is a pretty gutsy move. So many things can go wrong – so many people can get offended. And worst of all: the important message of reaching out to those who need it could be lost. Yet Asher jumped head first and tackled the story with great success. Reading an interview with Asher in the back of the book, I learned that it wasn’t easy for him, but he took the risk anyways. It was pretty motivational for me, as we’re always taught in this class (and most other creative writing courses I’ve taken) to push boundaries and take risks with our work. Asher did it and it paid off tremendously. The same could happen to any of us.

13.     It was great and I highly recommend it!