The Next Big Thing

Thank you so much to CM Doporto for tagging me in the Next Big Thing. This blog hop asks authors a series of questions about their current manuscript. Be sure to check out CM at: http://cmdoporto.com/

It’s been a while since I posted, but hopefully this will break my dry spell. Here goes!

What is the working title of your next book?

Shifter

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I’ve been a huge Urban Fantasy junkie ever since the Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie version) came out…so a long time. Vampires have been thoroughly explored, but I wanted to take another look at werewolves—more specifically what someone would go through after being bitten and transforming into a werewolf. The idea seemed to be full of tension (a must for a good story) and endless possibilities. After brainstorming, I found my main character, Tessa. Shortly after that, the world Tessa lives in came into focus. The story snowballed from there.

What genre does your book fall under?

Shifter is a Young Adult Urban Fantasy with strong romantic elements.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Hmm. That’s a tough question. Having a husband who works in the film industry, I know that casting is everything. I think I’d leave that up to the producers. ;)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

In Shifter, a girl with visions finds out how dangerous romance can be in a werewolf-ridden town.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It’s too soon to say, but I might have an update on this soon. ;) ;)

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

The first draft took just shy of a year to write.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

There are a ton of YA Urban Fantasies out there, but I think anyone who enjoys Rachel Vincent’s Soul Screamers Series, P.C. Cast’s House of Night Series, or Annette Curtis Klause’s Blood and Chocolate would also like Shifter.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

I have always been an avid reader, yet dreamed of being a writer. After completing my first full manuscript in 2008 (a Young Adult Fantasy), I decided I needed to learn more about the craft. I found myself at Seton Hill University, where I received my Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Shifter was my thesis novel for the MFA program.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

If you like action, sassy characters with super powers, and a good helping of romance—not to mention werewolves—you might want to check out Shifter. Just sayin’.

Here are the amazing writers I’ve tagged to tell you about their Next Big Thing. Visit them on December 26th to see what's upcoming for them. And until then, I hope everyone has a very Happy Holiday!

Mary Karlik -- http://Marykarlik.com/

Brooke Linn -- http://brookelinnbooks.com/blog/

Book buying moratorium.

Every once in a while, my book buying appetite gets too big for my reading ability. But this time it’s gotten bad...as in a seriously over-sized to-read pile. I’ve singled out the reason: my Kindle.

I love my Kindle. Maybe more than actual books.

There. I said it. That's the first step.

I feel a bit like I’m cheating on books, but I’m not really. I just love being able to put all my books on my device and carrying them with me everywhere I go. Also, I love that I can buy as many books as I want and never have to give them away when my bookshelves start overflowing. With about a book per day reading habit, I cannot physically keep them all. Unless I had a mansion. But I don’t. Therefore, book hording on my Kindle > book hording in my house.

The problem is that until now, I hadn't fully committed to my Kindle. I kept buying hard copies of books and not reading them! I only read on my Kindle or on my Kindle app on my iPad and iPhone. But when my physical to-read pile gets too big for my “big frakkin bag,” it is officially time for a book buying moratorium.

Yep. That's my "big frakkin bag" (scored at the San Diego ComicCon a few years ago) overflowing with books. Next to it is another bag of books, but in a normal size reusable shopping bag.

So for now, I'm sadly putting my Kindle in my bedside table and not buying one more book. After I get through my to-read pile, it might be the end of buying hard copies for me. Unless I LOVE a book--I'll want those for my bookshelf, and plan to buy both digital and hard copies. 

But first—tackling my big frakkin to-read pile. :)

Nerd

A week and a half ago I wrote about trying something new. Specifically, seeing John Green and his brother Hank Green in the Tour de Nerdfighting here in LA. I was left with a number of impressions, but one was surprising to me…not to mention surprising to my family and friends.

Before I get into that, let me say that I was beyond excited to see them. They did not disappoint with their level of awesome and nerdiness. John Green read a portion of his latest book THE FAULT IN OUR STARS. After weeks of stressing over what section of my novel to read for my thesis reading and defense, I know that selecting a passage to read aloud is hard. There’s a lot to think about. Most importantly you want the audience to be able to follow along, to be able to jump right into the story, and to enjoy the writing.

I’m not an auditory person. In school, I was the kid in the back, furiously writing down everything the teacher said. If I didn’t, I’d get quickly lost and would have a hard time remembering what the lesson for the day was. So know this when I say I was on the edge of my seat, hanging onto every word John Green read. He picked an awesome section. It didn’t need a huge introduction. He didn’t jump around. I was simply sucked in to the story.

Afterward, he talked for a bit, Hank sang some songs, there was some Q&A, and a whole lot of fun. I left feeling glad I had gone and truly lucky that I live in a city where I get to do all kinds of fun things.

Here's their vlog about the tour for your viewing pleasure: 

But as I gushed to my husband about the event and the new friends I made, a feeling came over me—one that I am not very proud of…

I felt inadequate. It was the first time in ever that I was in what can only be described as nerd-envy.

“Oh my God,” I said to my husband. “I’m not nerdy enough. I want to be more nerdy. I have to be more nerdy.” My voice was more high pitched than usual and a little frantic.

My husband started cracking up, until he realized that I was serious.

If you knew me at all, especially in my grade school years (all of them—even high school), you’d think I’d lost my mind. Aileen=nerd. This fact was confirmed the next day when I went out with one of my oldest and dearest friends. I’ve known her since third grade. When I expressed my feelings, she too started laughing. Hard.

“Aileen. I don’t think anyone has ever questioned your level of nerdiness.”

Phew! Because I was seriously worrying.

But still, I had that lingering green emotional tinge. One that I really didn’t enjoy and wanted gone ASAP. But that meant exploring why I was feeling that way. Here’s what I figured out:

John Green is a young adult literary writer. His latest book is about two kids dealing with cancer. It’s deep, and so awesomely nerdy.

I write genre fiction for young adults--right now specifically young adult science fantasy. My writing is not so deep, and maybe it's not as nerdy. Or a different kind of nerdy.

When I explained this to my husband, he totally understood (because he’s awesome and gets me). He said he loves indie movies, but makes these big blockbuster, summer tent-pole movies. In theory, he’d love to make indie movies, but in reality—it’s not his bag. He’s okay with that. Instead, he takes elements he admires from indies (like actors and cinematographers and set designers) and hires them on his big movies.

“You know who you are. Don’t lose sight of that because you admire someone else,” he said.

How did he get so smart?

The evil green bug fled and I could breathe easy again.

John Green does his thing, and it’s amazing. And I do mine—which I’m working on making amazing. I have the ability to enjoy his writing, and be inspired by it.

So now, I’m once again glad I went. I had an amazing time and learned an important lesson about myself. Plus, I know more of where I want to end up in terms of my writing life. This will only make reaching my goals that much easier.

Oh, and also—I learned that no one doubts my nerd quotient. Good to know. ;)

Fear

Fear is a word I know a lot about. Being a shy person means being afraid of people. But I’m not just afraid of people. I'm also afraid of the dark, heights, demons, ghosts, parties, germs, going too fast, fainting, needles, the dentist, etc. When I think about trying something new, my imagination goes into hyperdrive. I guess that’s why I was always drawn towards men who were fearless, confident, and outgoing. I always found those traits (which I don’t really have) so admirable. I just had to find the perfect one—a man who was all those things but also giving, patient, caring, selfless, and tenderhearted.

Since I met him, I’ve tried a number of things I’d never even consider doing. But having this partner in my life really pushes me to not give into fear. He has this way of talking me into trying stuff… I can only say that it’s kind of like he sweet talks me up onto a cliff and then lovingly shoves me over the edge. And then jumps after me. After it’s over he says, “Wasn’t that fun?” And I give him a whine. Then he convinces me to do it again. The second time I try something, I usually have fun. He’s won me over. The jerk. ;)

Take this day:

 

That’s me after he convinced me to go ziplining in Costa Rica, but before I’ve actually gone ziplining. See how I won’t completely face him? My shoulders turned away and slouching down as if to hide? Yup, that’s me terrified. I’m kind of smiling in the photo because I’m trying to be brave. But my teeth are clenched. I’m terrified. I’d be hiding behind that tree if he’d let me. That familiar feeling of fear has already wormed it’s way into my stomach, making me nauseous. Don’t look too closely at the harness, because it’s totally rusted. And the brake glove stinks to high heavens. I thought I’d get a skin disease for sure if I put it on. Plus, I was reasonably certain that if I don’t fall to my death, I’d have bugs living in my hair from the helmet. (I didn't put either on until the last possible moment.) By the time he took this picture, I’m 100% certain this is the worst idea in the history of ideas. But I’m stubborn enough that once he’s convinced me to do something, I won’t back down.

Stupid, maybe. But it usually ends up okay.

This ziplining adventure wasn’t without it’s bumps. I was so scared that on the first line I used the break too much and came to a stop in the middle of it. I swear my heart literally stopped as I hung hundreds of feet in the air in the rainforest canopy. 

The men who operated the lines started yelling at me in Spanish to turn around and pull myself the rest of the way. I could barely hear them as the opening scene from CLIFFHANGER played over and over in my head. 

Remember that rusty harness I mentioned? Yeah, I did too.

As I inched my way over the length of two football fields, I thought, that’s it. He’s finally convinced me to do something that’s going to kill me.

But of course I didn’t die. I got to the other side, in near hysterics, but didn’t want to look dumb in front of all the men. So, I blinked away the tears.

“Ready to do seven more?” said my then-boyfriend, now husband.

Go down another one of these:

You’ve got to be effing kidding me!?!? I nearly hurled right then.

The zipline guys told me not to use the break. Not to even put my hand on the line. I nodded, and they sent me flying down the next one.

The second time was better. I didn’t stop. I just flew down the line. I thought I was going to slam into the tree at the end of the line, but the guys caught me. Everything was okay.

Third time was totally awesome. I had forgotten about the stinky glove, the rusty harness, and possible helmet bugs.

By the eighth line, I was ready to go back up the mountain and do it again.

What changed? I let go. 

Fear holds you back from really living your life. It’s an evil little worm that you’ve got to kill right away. Nip that sucker in the bud.

The past few years I’ve tried to ignore the fear worm. It’s still there, but it’s getting smaller. I tip my hat to it, but then keep doing what I’m doing. I’ve done things I never thought I’d do: quit my job to write a book, traveled to foreign places, got my MFA, been an extra on a movie… The list goes on and on. 

Tonight, I’m adding something new to the list. I’m going to the Nerdfighter Tour with my neighbor, who I only kind of know, and some of her writer friends, who I’ve never met. People I don’t know are scary to me. Going to a place I’ve never been before is also scary. Maybe meeting an author I admire, even more scary stuff. But I know when I get home, I’m going to be glad I went. Maybe I’ll have more writer friends in LA that I can talk to—which would be awesome. If I gather up my courage, maybe I’ll get my already signed The Fault in Our Stars novel personalized and tell one of my favorite authors that I enjoy his writing.  

There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, but I cannot and will not let fear run my life. 

If you’re like me, then the first time you try something new it's scary. Trust me. Do it anyways. It might just be the most fun you’ve ever had. And that’s something you don’t want to miss out on.

know when to ask for help

When you’re not good at something--and more importantly you know you’re not good at it--it’s usually best to ask for help. I don’t know why I have trouble with this sometimes. I feel like I should be able to do anything/everything myself. And I’m so stubborn that once I’ve decided I must do something, I won’t give up. I’ll drive myself crazy trying to go against the grain and do it all, even though it’d be done in no time flat if I just reached out. But I usually won’t. Especially if it’s something silly and girly that I feel, just by being a girl, I should be awesome at. It’s so dumb.
  

You see--I’m not a shopper. I’m not good at it and I hate--loathe--doing it. Facing a big store, with its huge inventory, quickly overwhelms me. I lose all confidence. I try on everything, hating it all, and leave feeling depressed and defeated. Still, every once in a while I decide that there is something I really, really, really can’t live without. Since September, this item has been boots. I wanted a pair of boots. Bad. I had been wearing the same pair for three years. (Partly because I loved them. Partly because I dreaded searching for a new ones...)
 

Shiekh 'Treva' Boot

I paid $35 for them, and they were starting to look pretty cheapy. The fake leather on the toe of the left boot had started peeling. Every time I put them on, I was kind of embarrassed. So, I decided I couldn’t wear them anymore. The search was on. I was determined I’d find some, yet completely lost as to what that meant. 

I searched for hours online and finally decided I’d found The Pair.
 

Frye 'Vera Slouch' Boot

 
I patted myself on the back, and said, “See. That wasn’t so hard. I don’t know what all the fuss was about.” When they came in the mail, I was so excited. I just knew they’d be great. I tried them on and instantly hated them. Every damned thing about them. Total let down. When I took them back (in person) to Nordstrom, I tried on almost every boot in the freaking store. (That’s a shit-ton of boots.) I hated all of them. My poor husband waited for an hour as I tried on boot after boot. It ended in me being super grumpy--almost to the point of tears--bootless, and I drove that poor sales girl mad.

The next week, my husband and I went out on a date and I put on my grey, worn out boots. I was embarrassed again, hoping that no one would look too closely at my feet. So, stomach in knots, I went back to searching.

I looked online at least once a day for a week. My frustration skyrocketed. How hard was it to find a damn pair of boots that I liked?

I went back to Nordstrom and decided I wouldn’t leave without a freaking pair of boots. I bought these:

Steve Madden 'Troopa' Boot

Yup. Returned them. I don’t know what I was thinking… 

I gave up. It just wasn’t going to happen this season. It took me a couple of weeks to recover from the defeat.

Then, I wore the stupid grey boots again. I started searching, once again. I thought briefly about these:

AllSaints 'Antigone' Boot

I liked them, but the price tag had me hesitating. Plus, the heel looked too tall. And I probably wouldn’t be able to wear them with boot cut jeans. Maybe if I had another pair and this one but... 

Then my sister called. She’d just bought a pair of over-the-knee boots and wanted my opinion. I confessed that I’d been looking for a pair of boots, but couldn’t really find a pair I liked. I sent her a link to the ones I kind of liked, and then we spent the next forty-five minutes talking. We emailed pictures back and forth as we chatted on the phone. And finally, she declared that what I needed was this pair:

AllSaints 'Shearling Hyde' Boot

She said, “Buy them! It’s free shipping. Trust me.” 

Well, they arrived last night. I tried them on, and sighed big time. Perfect heel height. Perfect with skinny jeans. Perfect with boot cut jeans. Perfect with tights and a dress. Just plain perfect. 

It took me four months to do what it took my sister forty-five minutes. Clearly, I’m way too damned stubborn for my own good. I should ask for help when I need it. There’s nothing wrong with reaching out. Especially when it involves shopping. I just get quickly overwhelmed and frustrated. Plus, my sister knows me well. She’s been doing this for me for years. I didn’t even go shopping for my high school prom dress. She went with our mom. Since we have the same body type/height/etc, she found one that looked “me,” fit her well, and said--here you go. She actually--gasp--likes to shop! (I have some amazing women in my family. I seriously don’t know where I’d be without them.) 

Learn from my mistake, people. When you need help, just ask. There’s no shame in it. Every person has different strengths and weaknesses. The key is knowing what yours are, being willing to lend your strengths when needed, and knowing when to ask for help. You’ll be saving yourself a headache. And, surprise, the person you ask usually won’t mind helping you one bit. They might even enjoy it.

the perfect writing chair

I know that having a specific set of needs in order to write is tantamount to giving yourself an excuse not to write. I’ve learned over the course of seven months of travel that I don’t have a list of needs, but I have a want. One large want.

My big, ugly, black recliner.

It’s a hand-me-down from my sister. She got it for Christmas when she was in middle school? High school? Not sure exactly. It’s not important. What is important is that when my sister moved to LA after college, I inherited it.

Yes, I moved the damn thing with me from Texas. After nearly twenty years of use, you’d think that it’d be at the end of its time… Hell, it’s from Ikea, and anyone who’s bought anything from Ikea knows nothing from there is meant to last. But this chair has been hanging on for me, and I’m keeping it come hell or high water…or meanie husbands.

Sure it squeaks when it reclines. The ottoman is missing a screw, which means it’s a little on the wobbly side. But it’s the perfect amount of cushion and reclining for me. Best part is that it’s got a lock on the recline. You can set it to the perfect angle, lock it in place, and bam--prime writing position every time you sit!

My husband hates it. He thinks it’s the most hideous chair in the history of chairs. When we first moved in together, he was determined that we would find a new chair for me and trash the eyesore. We went to store after store after store. I felt a little bit like Goldilocks, but only my chair was juuuuuuust right. They were all either too hard, too soft, didn’t recline enough, reclined too much, or I just didn’t weigh enough to keep it reclined.

After seven months of being away from home, I know for a fact that I don’t need a specific chair to write in, but I damn well want this one. I don’t care what he thinks. It’s the best writing chair. Probably ever.

Sad thing was that as soon as the car got unpacked, my beloved chair got covered with books and papers and odds and ends that needed sorting through and I had absolutely no time for sorting. It wasn’t until last week that I got my writing chair back.

No, I don’t need to be sitting in it to write, but it's sure as shit nice to be home and writing in my "ugly" chair.

1950's housewife

 

I love my life (and my husband), but sometimes I’m amused it.
  
Yesterday I got a call that made me so thankful for a certain sister. I’m not much of a shopper. I never really enjoyed it. But I like looking nice. So, my older sister told me that when I am shopping and in the mood to try something on and I like something--JUST BUY IT. Even if it’s expensive. Even if I think I won’t need it. Especially if it’s a dress. That way I'm never under pressure to find something, which never works out for me.

So a few weeks ago, I was shopping. I spotted this awesome black dress. 

AllSaints Aditya Dress

And even though I had no idea when I’d wear it, if I’d ever wear it--I tried it on. Hubby gave two big thumbs up. And I marched over to the cashier and said yes please. 

Thank God I did.

Yesterday, a little after noon, I got a call from a weird number--285-79. WTF is that? Oh yeah, it’s my hubby calling from his office.

“Hi,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” I said, already suspicious. He’s usually so busy that I never hear from him during the day.

“Cool.”

“How are you doing?” 
“Good.” Long pause. “Sooooo. How’s that dress fitting you? The one you bought a few weeks ago?”

“Same as it fit when I bought it.” I now know something is up. “Why?”

“So, here's the deal. We have to go to a black tie event tonight. So, go get a manicure, get your hair done, whatever you need to do. But can you be ready by 5:45PM?”

Sigh. I hate these kinds of things. “Yes. I’ll be ready.”

I felt like I’d been kind of transported into an episode of MAD MEN. I steamed out my dress. Got my nails done. Patted myself on the back for the haircut I got yesterday. I picked out a pair of fun heels, and there you go. Aileen is ready for the black tie in record time. And then I patiently waited for hubby to pick me up.

I’m a shy girl, so I usually freak out about these kinds of things. But this time, I didn’t have much time to freak out. I just had to get ready. And then when we got there, and saw our table number sticking up in the air in front of the stairs to the stage, I started freaking a little. But Jeremy grabbed my hand and led me through the masses.

The American Cinemateque was honoring Robert Downey, Jr., and various famous people (Jodi Foster, Jon Favreau, Jennifer Aniston, etc.) give speeches about how awesome Downey is for two hours. Micheal Douglas caught my gaze during his speech and held it. When I told this to my hubby on the ride home, he laughed.

“Maybe that’s because you look like his wife. Only younger. And hotter.” Awe. Thanks, babe.

Still, as this housewife rode home, I thought of all the housewives of the past. Their husbands calling, telling them the boss was coming to dinner or that there was an event to go to that they forgot to tell them about…and it made me smile. I like being a housewife. 

Don't get me wrong. At first, I hated that I didn’t work. That didn’t have my 9-5 to clock into. I thought it made me less of a person, especially since we don’t have kids yet. It was an adjustment.

But then I remembered. I’m a writer. That’s my job. And I’m a wife. That’s my other job. To be there to love and support my husband, who loves and supports me.

Housewife was a bad word for a little while. Back when women didn’t have a right to choose. But now they can choose. And so I'm taking that word back. It's a good thing. I chose this. For us, this is what works. And I love it.