Your Smile On Fire : noveling

to do this summer: see friends

jordynt — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 04:08:00 GMT

So I know the semester doesn't end for me until June. (I know, so far away!) But considering that I'm getting impatient now that Becca's semester is over (or almost over...?) and Lisa just did that post about how she's out of school for a little while too, plus the fact that last time I talked to my cuzzie she said (most emphatically, might I add, even though it was only over msn messenger), "you need a FRIEND," and that I needed to get out more and go to parties.

Um... okay... whose parties? Going out would be a heck of a lot easier if I had people to go out with. You know, people I actually wanted to go out with and who wanted me around.

But I digress. All that has got me thinking of what I want to do this summer, which mostly includes lots of traveling. Word to the wise, this is what happens when none of your friends live in the same hemisphere as you. (Okay, okay, so hemisphere is stretching it. But it may as well be another hemisphere.)

I want Sarah to visit. I have to drill this into her head and get her to come out here!
I want Mich to visit. And I want to visit Mich. MEET HER FRIENDS! Yay!
And it goes without saying that I want to see Braddles and Maddies and go out to Arizona.
Also I want to finish the novel I'm working on now, or at least get a good part of it done.
Get a job! (Actually I'd like this to happen ASAP so that at least I could spend my money on books and stuff even if I don't have people to hang out with.
GO FISHING! And no, this is not summer-specific. I want to go fishing soon. Even maybe try ocean fishing? Fun.
I don't think the English class I need is offered during the summer (except from like 6-9 at night, which I so don't want to do) but if it were I would want to get it over with. So, summer classes?

Yes, I realize I can't visit everyone and get a job and take summer classes. I know that's a stretch and all those things take time and blahblahblah. But I can try, right?

Really. I want summer. And it's not even that I want to be done with school so soon, it's just that I want to see my friends.

Maybe I will be a hermit like Emily Dickenson. Just live somewhere all alone with, like, a bunch of cats or something. And no people. Just me. Okay kidding, I would go crazy. But I'm just saying... it's maybe starting to look more possible than I'd like?

books i don't like

jordynt — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 17:42:00 GMT

Hello friendlies. I'm sitting on my bed, in my jammies, listening to my mp3 player. WHICH IS NOT AN IPOD. But anyways.

I really have nothing to say, I just feel like writing.

Oh! Speaking of writing! My new novel-in-progress is up to... uh... 7,237 words. And it is going okay. I mean I'm having a lot of fun writing it but I don't know how good it is or if it is really just all sucky and boring.

Also, I did solve the book space dilemma, by pushing my Nancy Drews to the back and putting some hardcovers in front.

Hardcovers in front of my Nancy Drews: (in case you wondered)

An Abundance of Katherines
Sense and Sensibility
I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have To Kill You
Red
If I Have A Wicked Stepmother, Where's My Prince?
The Year of Secret Assignments
Girl at Sea
Better Than Yesterday
Define "Normal"

Sigh. I just spent too much time reading Meg Cabot's blog, which I actually enjoy even though I don't enjoy her books. And I can't ever pick up her books either, because it's the sort of thing where if I start reading it I can't stop even though the whole time I'm going why am I reading this, why am I reading this?? Ha sorries. I know there are a lot of serious Meg Cabot fans out there.

So just for fun? Some other books/authors I don't enjoy.

Meg Cabot
Gossip Girl series
Better Than Yesterday isn't so great
Nicholaus Sparks (or however you spell it)
The Hobbit
Sweet Valley series
Ender's Game

a rant on fluffiness.

jordynt — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 03:36:00 GMT

Okay. I have a few things to say tonight.

Remember how way back when I said I wanted to do a post on the bible and religion? Do you also remember how unlike the many prophecies in the bible, that never quite came to pass? Um, well. I am still working on it and still very much planning on writing it. The problem is that because I care about this subject more than any other, I really really want it to be good and well thought out and well written and overall the sort of post on the bible and religion that doesn't polarize people, which talk of religion/the bible tends to do. I'm trying to avoid that. Also it might be more than one post because there is a lot I want to say.
I am on LIPSTICKING, with a wonderous quote about kindergarten and growing up and Kelsey, who I don't actually talk to all that much anymore (cue sad face; she is an awesome person), but who is turning out to be exactly who she always knew she would be, which is awesome. (Haha actually we're both turning out to be exactly who we knew we would be. Amazing.)
I also have plenty to say about the re-release of the Sweet Valley High books and the controversial (and, um, awful?!) move of them changing Elizabeth and Jessica's size from a "perfect" 6 to a "perfect" 4. Puke. I'm planning on posting this particular rant both here and over at Page Numbered, which if you don't already know is my book blog that I am totally loving.
And NOW for today's post, which is something I've been thinking a lot about...

I know I don't exactly write high-brow stuff. I write about teenage girls and crushes and friendships and the little insignificant moments in life. I write about wanting to grow up and not wanting to grow up and all that stuff that I'm facing or will face or have faced.

I write young adult. And, okay, you can call it fluff if you want to. I know that (assuming my books see the light of day), I will never write something like To Kill A Mockingbird or anything else that makes everyone stop and think. I won't write anything that changes the lives of so many people and I won't be standing up and accepting the Pulitzer or Nobel prize. And I know, I know not everyone thinks the fiction I write is worth anything.

But here's the thing: call it fluff or nonsense or whatever you want, but I have to believe it isn't. I have to believe, for the sake of my sanity, that my words can hurt or help or change someone. I have to believe, and I do believe, that my words have power. Power that not everyone is going to see, but power nonetheless.

I have this notebook, purchased at Borders (R.I.P. and please don't die) for more money than I'd like to admit. Some spend $300 on a new pair of shoes, I buy a few sheets of paper for $15. But anyways. In this notebook I have quotes from books. By far the large majority of these books are fiction, mostly young adult, and exactly the sort of stuff that is considered fluff. I've got Maureen Johnson and E. Lockhart and Sarah Dessen and many others that you probably haven't even heard of. But the thing is... those lines, the "fluff" words in that book? They matter to me. They're lines, words, passages that spoke to me, that hurt or helped or changed me somehow. Honestly (and you can think I'm being kooky here if you want to) I think that words have this power. I think that everything we read has the ability to change us, to mold us just a little bit or help us see things in the right light. And I think it has that ability whether its nonfiction or fiction, classics or young adult - as long as it hits someone in just the right way, it's worth it. It matters. Mostly what I have in the book are quotes that capture emotions, that assure me I am not alone. For example, these few lines from the ARC of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, which I love love love:

It didn't matter that in her heart Frankie knew she was smart and charming.

What mattered was that feeling of being expendable. That to Porter, she was a nobody that could easily be replaced by a better model -- and the better model wasn't even so great.

Which meant that Frankie herself was nearly worthless.

Or this one, from The Truth About Forever:

You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.

I'm not sure quite how to transition from here and all I'm really trying to do is selfishly defend my own writing and maybe it is fluff and maybe it will never matter to anyone, but I don't think so. I think there are moments of realism and relatability and I think that it matters in a very small way and I refuse to think that what I want to do with my life and this great passion that I have for words and storytelling and creating characters that are real is entirely superficial. I have to believe it matters.

princesses!!

jordynt — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 21:25:00 GMT

I started a new novel. Um, yay me? I don't know. I think maybe the problem with the one I gave up was that I really loved the premise (and still do) but elements of it were too much like the novel I'm curently querying, and besides that it didn't have too much of an arc. This one I'm writing now basically defies the whole "write what you know" wisdom, but I'm hoping it'll work out. I think it will. (Cue the Little Engine That Could, "I think I can, I think I can.")

In other news, a while back my sister came in my room and pulled out all the books that she'd read so she could look at the way tall stack and be proud of herself. So now I have a bunch of books that aren't in my bookcase and it is driving me crazy. I don't mind so much that the rest of my room isn't exactly ***-n-span, as long as the books are nice and tidy. I am obsessive about my books. I am very envious of that one part in Beauty and the Beast, where Belle walks into the library and there's books EVERYWHERE. It is amazing.

In a related story, I finally saw Enchanted, and people were not joking when they said it was an awesome movie. I loved it, which is a lot to say considering my history with fairy tales is not exactly a lovey one. I mean, I like most of them perfectly fine. But not great or anything. The only fairy tale I really love love love and always have is Beauty and the Beast. I can't really take Cinderella, and Snow White is good but kind of eh. I don't know. I like the movies but I usually don't like the characters, if that makes any sense.

I mean seriously, couldn't Cinderella have found a different way to get out from under the thumb of her evil stepmother besides marrying this guy she didn't even know and inheriting this big huge castle and everything? Trust me, she would not know how to be a princess or a queen or whatever it was she turned into.

And Snow White? Eating food given to her by a scary-looking stranger? When she lives out in the middle of nowhere? How stupid can you be!? What she should have done was locked the doors and maybe called on her woodland friends to protect her from the creepy lady outside.

Okay, and let's move onto Ariel. She basically made a pact with the devil of the sea, which makes her even dumber than Snow White. I won't even get into what happens to her in the non-Disney versions (I love the Disney versions, actually), but trust me, it does NOT work out so well for her.

But actually I like Jasmine. Her and Belle are totally awesome.

(Ya, I know I forgot that Sleeping Beauty chick but I'm really not sure... have I ever seen that whole movie? All her role seemed to be was sleeping anyways so nothing exciting there.)

So this is why I don't read many fairy tales. I actually am reading Gail Carson Levine's Fairest though - I like her books. I'm weird in that I'll love some fairy-tale-ish books or stories and hate others. It's odd.

Happy Things

jordynt — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 22:52:00 GMT

Things I am happy for today:

The new B52's cd. Eeeeee!!!! I heart the B52's. They are made of awesome.
The book I'm reading, Deadline, which so far is amazing.
Making up both my test in psychology and the toddler observation in Child Development.
Writing just over 1,500 words last night. I was up way late, but omg sooo great.
Watching Reba from the beginning.
Thai iced tea. Which is odd because really I don't like Thai food but I love Thai iced tea.
The yummyful brownies with the yummyful frosting that I made last night.
Finally not being sick anymore, mostly.
Did I mention Funplex, the B52's new cd?

My Life? Um, No.

jordynt — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 04:05:00 GMT

Haven't wrote in here in a while I guess. I don't know how long, probably just a day, but it feels like a while.

In other news, I feel the need to write a short story. A flickr inpsired short story, only I can't decide which of my favorite pictures (I have a lot) to write it about. Um, yeah, never mind the fact that if I work on anything right now it should really be my novel-in-progress. I want to do a short story!!

So hopefully I will. Write a flickr-inspired short, that is.

In other news, I have hit on something that is, apparently, difficult for people to do. And that thing is to seperate the writer from the writing when they are very close to the writer. I realized this when my dad, in Georgia, sent me a text message wondering about the father-daughter relationship in my novel.

Ohmygoodness.

Okay I know fiction is supposed to have a grain of truth in it (like all good lies, lol) and that, yes, what I write is somehow intrinsically tied to myself. But really, friendlies, it is all just a string of things my overactive imagination came up with. I get "inspiration," if you wanna be cliche like that (and I do) from songs on the radio or something someone says or a picture on flickr. If I wanted to write about my own life and the people in it, I would. And I do, but that's what personal private journals are for. But no, I want to write about imaginary people with imaginary parents and friends and lives. And somehow I want to make those imaginary people real enough that they don't seem so imaginary anymore, so real that they might be someone you'd be friends with or have a crush on or avoid altogether. But it's just... fiction. False. Lies. Whatever you want to call it.

Here's something. Mostly my characters and the relationships between them are just in my stories because they work. I really don't don't don't want to write about the people I know because that's boring. I want to write about people I don't know, about people I don't have to deal with every day and people who aren't a part of my everyday surroundings. I want to write about the girl who runs away, the friends who reconnect after four years apart, the mystery life of a couple in a found photograph. I want to write about stuff that happens, stuff that could happen, but not stuff that happens to me. I live my life, okay? I don't need to write quasi-fiction about it.

And this is why I'm always wary of letting others - especially people who know me super-well, like my parents - read my stuff. Everyone seems to have the idea that it's my story about me, when really it's just the story I wrote. They look for hidden meanings in words that have nothing to do with them and think I have some "ulterior motive." And that's just really hard to combat. Has anyone else noticed this when they let ones close to them read their writing?

still haven't sent those query letters...

jordynt — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 21:40:00 GMT

Hello! Spring break is here!

Woot woot!

In other news, I'm at the marvelous word count of 10,570 for my novel in progress. And yes, I still need to send out the query letters for my last novel. The sad thing about this is that I HAVE THEM ready to go. THEY ARE SITTING ON MY COMPUTER, ready to be emailed or shipped off to wherever they go. And I've had them ready since the beginning of the year. So, uh, why haven't I sent them?

Possible explanations:

Most obvious possibility is the fear of rejection. Which is pretty stupid because I'm just assuming rejection anyways.
Less obvious is the fear of success, which is rediculous. Because though I have been afraid of MANY MANY MANY things, success has never been one of them.
Procrastination. Hm, I never much thought of myself as a procrastinator, but it's possible.
THEY AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH. Yep, it's this one.

I always think my writing is the suck. I mean, I like it ok but I never really think it's any good. After I sent Amy my essay I wrote back to her saying how awful I just realized it was, and I sent her another one. Which, by the way, I also thought was pretty awful after I reread it.

But yeah. I should definitely send those letters out.

this post comes in two parts and explains my two week hiatus

jordynt — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 05:27:00 GMT

Ok so I was totally going to make a post from the library at lunch today. But seeing as how it was practically pouring outside EVERY SINGLE COMPUTER was in use. So I went to eat lunch in my car and by the time I got to my car my jacket was soaked and my hair was so wet it was all slicked down to my head. It was quite the sight, I tell you.

And this post comes in two parts.

Part one: my two-week hiatus. It was not entirely my decision. It was really my dad's "suggestion" for me to take a break (a complete, clean, no-looking-back break) from writing and reading. The deal was actually for three weeks, but come on, I'm amazed I made it this long. I was starting to go a little insane. I mean seriously. Not being able to write about the stuff stressing me out was making me cranky and angry like you would not believe. Writing might be an obsession, but it's an obsession that helps keep me sane.

So what did this hiatus mean? It meant no blogging, no working on my in-progress novel or any short stories or poems. No writing in my many (many many) notebooks. No writing in my journal. No emailing. Which, truth be told, was quite probably the hardest part. I mean my best friend lives on the other side of the country for crying outloud. Email is one of my life lines to her. And all my other good friends? Um... Florida (hi Becca!), Northern California (Erika!), Arizona (Ash, Sarah! Bradison and Madison!), So the only one that really lives close by is my adorably adorable sister.

So yeah.

Saying this whole project was "difficult" would be an understatement of gigantic proportions. And you want to know why? Because my life takes place in words. These random lines will come to me during school and I'll write down stuff with my psychology notes that have absolutely nothing to do with Freud! (exclamation intentional, Friends reference) or Pavlov and his dog experiment (I could make an Office reference right now, I really really could).

But hey! I'm back now! My dad's hope was that taking a break would make me better or more creative when I got back at it. I'm not sure if it's worked or not because I think writing is one of those things that you have to consistantly be doing to maintain your ability. Like when I started writing again, yesterday? I could tell the words weren't coming as easily as they should have been. It was a weird feeling.

Part two: cheating. You know what? Cheating is wrong and I know it's wrong and we all know it's wrong but at the same time... I can kind of understand it. I mean honestly, why do we go to high school or junior high or college? In its simplest terms, whatever schooling we're doing right now is merely the means to an end. I want to teach kindergarten so I'm stuck taking these ridiculous general education classes that, I'm sorry, will never be of use to me once I leave the classroom. As my dad is fond of telling me when I get stressed over classes or grades or school in general, "You just have to play the game. It's all about checking the boxes." True. I just barely passed my World History class last semester but I did pass it. And now I never have to go through it again. (And trust me, that is a huge relief.)

But here's where the snag arises, and where I can really kind of understand cheating, especially (see below) if the person's not copying someone else's work. If it's all about checking off the boxes (and so often it is), if this is just a means to an end (again, it is), then the only thing that matters is getting through. No matter how you get through. I mean I'm not talking about med school or about your NCLEX exam (nurses), I'm talking about the classes (and there are oh-so-many) that don't actually matter but that you have to pass anyways. Without getting into the "unfairness" or the "ethics" of it, if school is just a means to an end then cheating is just a way to achieve what you've set out to achieve. No harm, no foul.

But then on the other hand, cheating grates at me. It annoys the heck out of me. Why? The classic response, really. And that is that I work really hard for the grades I get. I'm not getting valedictorian-worthy grades or anything, but I do pretty good usually, and it's no accident. I do the work. I show up for class, I study, I do my homework, and I do extra credit when the professors offer it. I put in the time and every A, B, C, D, or F that I get is a result of that. Today in art class my professor (who I think is awesome by the way) was talking about how she tries to make her tests difficult to cheat on so it will be "fair for the A-students." I thought that was an odd way to put it but I was glad that she brought up the subject of cheating.

And then I heard the girl sitting next to me - my "friend" (note the air quotes) - mutter,"F--- you," under her breath. Nice, huh? Later on this same girl took my take-home quiz that I'd just got back so she could copy down my answers for the ones she missed. And I took it back from her, which I'm sure suprised her because everyone's gotten to the point that they just let whoever wants to copy their answers and we barely even think of it as cheating anymore. But I put some serious effort into that quiz (which I then forgot at home and turned in late for reduced points, but that's beside the point). I probably spent over an hour on it and I wasn't just bsing my replies either. Maybe it's a selfish way to put it, but I hate the idea of someone else benefitting (sp) from the time and effort I put into my work. THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THEIR OWN DERN WORK!!

Oh and PS. Omygosh why is nobody blogging lately? Seriously. Practically no blogs have been posted SINCE I LEFT. I'm severely disappointed in you guys! (Haha, kidding. But for reals, what's up?)

on stories and also, if you watch the clip, THE CONE OF SILENCE

jordynt — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 03:09:00 GMT

Hilo. (Um, is that a real word? Probably nots. Oh well.) I really should be working on my query or something like that, seeing as how I've officially decided to stop working on the novel I was going to be working on. I just decided... not now. It's too... well, too something, I'm not even really sure what. But it's one of those ideas up in my head just waiting to be written. (Along with these other fantabulous stories, Daniel, Again; Mr. Wrong; Friendgirl; The Year of Ben; Girl #2; Ducky; Coffee Days; Past Perfect; The Bride... and more! No, but seriously, I've got like a zillions of these up there in my head. And they all have titles... I'll just probably end up changing the title like a million times, if I even manage to write it at all.) Point is, I figured I may as well work on the querying process while I'm still in the Ash Creek gear, you know?

Besides that, I actually don't know which story I'll end up working on next. I'd like to work on Coffee Days, but it's in verse and I really want to write regular prose right now. (Although I did write a novel in verse once. Yeah, it has like 30k words or something sad and small like that.) So I'm thinking maybe either Daniel, Again just because the idea for that one has been brewing for pretty much ever (at least since May of this year).

I have all these old starts of stories on my computer. Stories and poems and when I read them I think, oh! I should really finish that! but then I never do because it's a big task to take on. I think from this whole Ash Creek experience I've learned that I really just have to stick my nose to the grindstone and not let myself give up on a story in order to finish. Because there's always new ideas, always stories I want to work on, etc. So now I just have to find one, decide which story to write and then STICK TO IT!

In other news, I think the Get Smart dvds might be coming in stores during 2008. So yay! (Now if only I had a job to pay for them... hmm...). Oh, and click here to see a clip from Get Smart. Hee hee. Me loves this show.

on being a liar... uh, er... I mean, making stuff up

jordynt — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 00:24:00 GMT

Yes, I wrote a novel about a girl who hates where she lives. And yes, sometimes I'm not exactly on great terms with where I live either.

But this is the problem with writing fiction... EVERYONE THINKS I'M WRITING ABOUT MY OWN LIFE!!! And I'm not, even if there are similarities. What I am doing is MAKING STUFF UP!! LYING!! (Ha, I was watching the Stephen Colbert show once with my mom and he was showing the NYTimes bestseller list and he said, "these people wrote fiction, they make stuff up. You know what we call people who make stuff up? LIARS!" I thought it was hilarious.)

Now usually I get the idea for something I write from my own life. Not from the big stuff (okay, sometimes the big stuff), but just one little thing that happens. Like this one time I was talking to my sister and I had one of those moments where I can't believe we're actually related, and I thought, "huh. I should write about sisters who are different." So I did. Of course, the story turned out awful, but that's not the point. (Um... now I'm forgetting what the point was in the first place... oh yeah...) I got the initial spark of an idea from that one moment, but the story wasn't about me and my sister.

I don't remember where I read this or who said it (it was on 101reasonstostopwriting I think), but it was talking about the fact that it's the fiction writer's job to write the character's story, not their own story. So that's what I try to remember. Sure, all my ideas come from things that happen in my own life, but it's not my story. If it were my story it would be called nonfiction and it would be blithely boring. (Is blithely a word or did I just make that up? Discuss.) (Not that all nonfiction is boring... RED, anybody? But about my entire life, yes, it would bore anyone who isn't me. Or maybe Mich.) So whenever I'm writing something I have to be really careful to not turn it into my story, to not make the characters into me and my family. Which is why I'll probably be stopping the novel I started working on after the one I finished (which still has no name). It's very complicated to not make it GLARINGLY OBVIOUS where I got the idea from. Maybe I just need to wait a while, sort things out before I leap into writing it...?

Oh, and PS., the ironic thing about the novel I finished (which I'm just going to start calling ASH CREEK until I come up with something more creative), is that the inspiration actually didn't come from my life. It came from a song which bears no resemblance to my life. Anyone heard County Line by Sugarland? I wonder if this will let me embed a video...

If not, you can click here to hear the song.

on blurbs, pitches, and what needs to be done

jordynt — Fri, 07 Dec 2007 23:14:00 GMT

Hi. Today I'm looking at those blurbs on the backs (or inside flaps) of books. Trying to write a pitch thing for my novel, but first I have to figure out how to go about this business of writing what. Like, what are they supposed to sound like? What are they supposed to tell about the story? This type of studying is so much more interesting than the studying I should be doing right now. (i.e. studying for finals) So I have a pile of books on my bed, going over the blurbs in the back/inside flap.

Book #1 - ZIGZAG by Ellen Wittlinger

Robin can't believe it when her boyfriend, Chris, tells her that his parents have enrolled him in a summer program in Rome. It's their last summer together before he goes away to college, and now they won't even have that time together. It feels like the worst thing that's ever happened to her.

Since Chris is leaving, Robin agrees to join her aunt and cousins on a cross-country road trip, in spite of her reservations. She and her younger cousins have never really gotten along, and since their father's death they've become even more problematic than before.

Soon the four of them are zigzagging through the West on an eye-opening journey. They explore parts of the country Robin never dreamed existed - and she discovers inner resources she never imagined she had.

When you describe your novel in a query letter, isn't it supposed to be one paragraph? Or am I wrong on that? In any case, this blurb is (obviously) longer than that. The first paragraph sets up the background of the story (Chris going to Rome for the summer), the second paragraph sets up the cause, or the main event that sends the rest of the story forwards (Robin agreeing to go on a road trip with her aunt and cousins), and the third paragraph kind of discusses the effect - what happens because of her going on the road trip (she "discovers inner resources she never knew she had"). I like it. (On a total sidenote, I love the song California by Rogue Wave. The first line is disarming.)

Book #2 - DREAMLAND by Sarah Dessen

Ever since she started going out with Rogerson Biscoe, Caitlin seems to have fallen into a semiconscious dreamland where nothing is quite real. Rogerson is different from anyone Caitlin has ever known. He's magnetic. He's compelling. He's dangerous. Being with him makes Caitlin forget about everything else - her missing sister, her withdrawn mother, her lackluster life. But what happens when being with Rogerson becomes a larger problem than being without him?

One paragraph. That's good news for me. The first sentence basically sets up what the whole book is about - Caitlin's relationship with Rogerson. (By the way, this is a really amazing book. Very real. So real I had to stop reading it at times because it got a little to close for comfort.) The majority of this blurb focuses on Rogerson and what he is, but it also talks about the rest of Caitlin's life, the stuff she wants to escape from. And the last sentence is the clincher that made me want to know: what does happen in that sort of relationship?

Book #3 - AN ABUNDANCE OF KATHERINES by John Green

When it comes to relationships, Colin Singleton's type is girls named Katherine. And when it comes to girls named Katherine, Colin is always getting dumped. Nineteen times, to be exact.

On a road trip miles from home, this anagram-happy, washed-up child prodigy has ten thousand dollars in his pocket, a bloodthirsty feral hog on his trail, and an overweight, Judge Judy-loving best friend riding shotgun - but no Katherines. Colin is on a mission to prove the Theorem of Underlying Katherine Predictability, which he hopes will predict the future of any relationship, avenge Dumpees everywhere, and finally win him the girl.

Love, friendship, and a dead Austro-Hungarian archduke add up to suprising and heart-changing conclusions in this ingeniously layered comic novel about reinventing oneself by Printz medalist John Green, acclaimed author of Looking for Alaska.

Ah! Love this blurb! Too long for me (three paragraphs), but it's good. Sets up what has happened (Colin's history with Katherines), what does happen (the road trip) and what might happen (proving that love is mathematical and getting the girl).

So I guess this is what my pitch (or is it called a summery? Not sure...) needs to cover: the background (what has happened) the cause (what happens) and the effect (what will happen). Basically the beginning, middle, and end of my story. Only very quickly and succinctly. Ha. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll post some possible pitches (summeries?) here to get feedback from you guys.

In other news, I did start another novel. Although who knows if I'll keep at it or not.

chapter seven

jordynt — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 21:07:00 GMT

Okay, so I'm looking for a good part of my novel to share here... okay, chapter seven. (My chapters are kinda short, as far as chapters go.) Oh, and the story is about a girl who lives in this small Texas town and desperately wants to get out, especially after her best friend moves to Chicago and the guy she used to have a crush on gets a scholarship to a university out in California.

Seven thirty sharp is dinner time in my house. I set the table, Mom sets out the food, and Dad comes home from work to take a shower.

It’s all very old fashioned.

“So Kris,” Dad says to me over his plate of chicken in something-sauce, “how’s things?”

“Fine I guess.”

“I heard your friend Becca’s moving,” he prods.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“That must be hard,” he says.

I shrug, “She’s doing fine.” In general, my rule in dealing with Dad has always been: use the fewest words possible. Our relationship is amicable at best, but by no means anything great and wonderful like you see on Seventh Heaven or those cheap Lifetime movies Becca and I watch. We may live like this is Leave It to Beaver, but it isn’t.

“How are you holding up?” he asks. Holding up. Like he’s a freaking psychologist or something.

“Fine I guess.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Just goes back to the chicken.

And then Mom has to step in. Here’s the thing about my Dad rule: it works fine so long as certain people don’t interfere. And “certain people” means Mom. “Kris!” she says suddenly. So suddenly, in fact, that the milk I’m drinking spills.

“What?” I choke out.

“Why don’t you talk to your father?”

“I am,” I say irritably.

“Don’t take that tone with me young lady. You know very well what I mean.” Which is true. I do know what she means.

She means I never answer him with anything more than a (very) few words.

She means I am perfectly civil to him, but really

She means I don’t give him the time of day.

All assumptions are true. They are facts. And I don’t feel like arguing with her so I get up, dump the leftover food that is on my plate into the garbage, and lock myself in my room.

Through the door, I hear them talking.

“I swear,” my mom’s saying, “that girl has some learning to do!”

“Kerry, ease up,” Dad says. “She’s seventeen; give her some time.”

I can almost hear my mom rolling her eyes at this. “Seventeen my butt! What does that have to do with anything, Charles?”

“I’m just saying that when I was her age I was awful. Ten times worse than her. And you know it.”

“Christ, Charles, quit making excuses for her.”

“It’s not an excuse.” Another pause, “I just think she needs some time. She’ll come around.”

See, this is the odd thing about my parents. Dad’s the one I’m rotten to, yet he’s the one sticking up for me.

That says something about something, I’m sure. I just can’t figure out what.

I want to apologize to Dad.

Really I do.

But the thing is, I always do. But then I go up to him and start talking and he does another infuriating thing that gets me upset again.

Like this morning. When I wake up, Dad’s already at the shop, so I walk up there. My shoes make this empty, hollow, thud sound as they hit the dust, but I ignore it like I always have.

Then I get to his shop, push open the glass door that says, in big red letters, Charles Car Fixins! Like it’s a cheap barbecue place or something.

“Dad?” I say, looking around. The glass door swings open into his shoddily furnished office, where his computer, desk, and two chairs sit. Nothing else. Just those three things and a picture of him and mom when they were younger. “Dad?” I call again, opening the door to the actual work garage and poking my head in.

“Kris! Hold on! I’ll be just a few minutes!” He has to yell this over some machine whirring at high, high decibels. I swear, it’s a wonder he’s not deaf by now.

I take a seat in one of the chairs, crossing my legs over each other, then uncrossing them and folding my arms. Then unfolding my arms and sighing. Lordy, even being in here makes me nervous.

Finally, after what feels like eternity but has only been five minutes (I’ve been watching the clock on the wall) he comes in from the work garage. “So,” he takes a seat behind his desk. “What’s up?”

I start to open my mouth – really I do. But then his cell phone rings and he holds up one finger in the universal just one minute sign.

“Hello, Charles Anderson here.” He takes a pen and starts jotting numbers down. “Uh huh, yeah… sure… of course.”

So here I sit, twiddling my thumbs, resting my head in my hands, waiting for him to finish. I watch the clock as it ticks on. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes.

This is crap.

I wave bye to him and leave, making sure to give the door a nice hard SLAM behind me.

Did I mention he infuriates me? Because he does.

Okay. There it is. Any opinions?

officially happy dancing

jordynt — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 06:59:00 GMT

I. Finished. My. Novel.

And now I have to start my next one. Which means finding another good topic, another main character, another imaginary world just the same as our real world. It's going to be hard to top Kris and Johnson though, hard to top Ash Creek. Hard to top what I think might actually be... good. Or at least not sucky?

Wow. Did I just say that? About my own work?

Either I've got an inflated ego or I'm getting better. Bets, anybody? Bets?

a short one, mostly about confessions

jordynt — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 23:35:00 GMT

I have a confession. I can't help it: I love The Hills. I realize this is sad and pathetic, but it's also true. There's something about watching people whose lives have even more drama than my own that's kind of reassuring. It's like, "Hey! At least I'm not them!" Anyways. I also have another confession, this one even worse. Sometimes I read Meg Cabot's blog. I know, I know... it's pretty awful of me to do that. But I do. Sorry.

In other news, IT'S RAINING! AND IT'S BEEN RAINING ALL DAY! You have no idea how wonderful this is to me. I miss rain. I miss snow. I miss weather. Seeing water falling from the sky is good for me. But about my novel (yes, sudden, abrupt change of topic)... I think I may be stuck. Ahhh! This is very bad. Considering I'm so close and so impatient to read TWO-WAY STREET.

Come to think of it, I should really be noveling right now.

songs that remind me (maybe i'll post more later?)

jordynt — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 03:44:00 GMT

Wow. Okay, first off, bravo to Haley for attempting to write a novel of approximately 100k words. (Correct me if I'm wrong on that, Haley.) Because my goal is 50k, which I guess is okay since it's YA. It better be okay. But anyways, I was up until midnight last night working on it... the words were just flowing. So with all I wrote today I'm up to 41k. And I'm so excited!

There's only one problem. I don't know how it's going to end! I mean, okay, yeah, I basically know how it's going to end up. I know where the main girl is going to end up and all... the only thing I don't know is what's going to happen with her and the main guy.

And it's driving me practically insane. I mean, the author should know what's going to happen to her characters, right?

In other news, NOBODY HAS HEARD OF SUPERFIRE. I asked one of my friends last night and then asked Mich today. Neither of them had heard of it. Please, somebody. Save me. Oh, wait, I also asked another one of my friends a few days ago and he hadn't heard of it either. I forgot about him. And nobody has heard of it. I swear it's a real movie...okay, yeah, it was a made-for-TV movie, but still.

Ha. Okay, last night I was trying to think of songs that remind me of people/places/times. Like, songs that remind me of a specific something. And so I'm coming up with a list of them.

When I Think About Angels (Jamie O'Neal)
You're Beautiful (James Blunt)
100 Years (Five for Fighting)
L.O.V.E. (Ashlee Simpson)
Girlfriend (Avril Lavigne)
Who We Are (Hope Partlow)
Stay Beautiful (Taylor Swift)
Teardrops on My Guitar (Taylor Swift)
The Funeral (Band of Horses)
Fly (Sugar Ray)

And of course there are plenty more. But I listened to the opening lines to Teardrops on My Guitar. And, omg, it's just as sad as it ever was. So now I have to listen to Fly to cheer myself up. All of these songs have a story behind them and maybe some day I'll tell them. Some of the stories are good (Fly, Who We Are) and others are pretty sad (Teardrops on My Guitar, When I Think About Angels), and still others make me mad actually (L.O.V.E.).

Anyways. I would write more but I really do need to work on my novel. Figure out this whole "relationship" thing and what will happen with it.

Oh, and also, I really have been pretty happy lately. Good things are happening. Little good things and bigger good things, but basically just happy stuff.