Clarity plzzzzzz

So, here's a small tip for writers out there: you know those moments when you get a great idea and jot it down on the nearest ink-accepting object? Your hand; the pizza box; if it's a good day, a post-it note? Well: WRITE THE IDEA OUT IN COMPLETE WORDS, NOT SHORTHAND. You think you'll remember later what you meant. But you won't, really. YOU WON'T.

I was going through some post-it notes the other day, looking for ideas, and I came across one that said this: an experience that doesn't fit into real life (FW by CV; 12 Monkeys).

The "12 Monkeys" part, I got. Terry Gilliam's (awesome) movie Twelve Monkeys is definitely about an experience that doesn't fit into real life. But... "FW by CV?" What the hell does that mean? And the problem is, it matters. The reason I thought "an experience that doesn't fit into real life" was worth writing down was because of the way it intersected with how Twelve Monkeys and "FW by CV," whatever that means, made me feel. That's my jotting method, so I know that this note is supposed to evoke something based on those things. But until I figure out what "FW by CV" means, I'm not going to get back that feeling "FW by CV" made me feel, and the writerly thing that I meant this note to spark in my mind is not going to be sparked.

I wonder if any of you have figured out what "FW by CV" means?

I did figure it out, after a lot of wasted time, and I'll give you a hint: FW is a book by CV.

More hints: FW is a book with a fantasy feel, by young adult author, CV.

Young adult author, CV?

Last hint: this author won a Newbery, not for this book, but for another (wonderful) book.

Here's your answer :o).

Writers: DON'T TRUST YOUR FUTURE SELF TO DECIPHER YOUR SHORTHAND.

Pieces of Memory. Plus, the World's Longest Version of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm"

It's moving season here in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Today I watched neighbors lower furniture through the window of a third story apartment using a rope and pulley. This reminded me of seeing all the pulley hooks at the top of houses in Amsterdam when I was on tour last spring. Apparently, Amsterdam stairways are narrow!

Of course, it also reminded me of the babies and levers.

And it reminded me of high school physics, which was one of many bad experiences during a difficult stretch of time that I'm happy to have lived through, but that you couldn't pay me enough to live through again. Have I mentioned lately how much I despise adults who think that life is easy for the young?

I just watched (and enjoyed) Almost Famous, which brought me back to high school, too, and a music decision I had to make at one point: should I buy Tommy, performed by The Who, or Tommy, the Broadway cast recording? For those of you who love classic rock, I'm sure it's an obvious decision; for those of you who love Broadway musicals, ditto; but what about for those of you who, like me, love both? At the time, my sister, secret codename: Cordelia, already owned the version performed by The Who, plus, I'd just been to see the show on Broadway (adolescence wasn't all crap)... so I chose the Broadway version. 17 years later, I'm no longer in a position to steal Cordelia's CDs... and this morning I had some very tedious work to do on my computer... so I allowed myself to add The Who version of Tommy to my music collection. Today I worked while listening to both albums.

(In case there are readers on my blog who're too young to know who The Who are -- ever watched an episode of [the following links play music] CSI, CSI: Miami, or CSI: NY? All the theme songs are cut from classic songs by The Who. Kind of painful to listen to in some cases if you know and love the originals, especially the theme of CSI: NY, "Baba O'Riley," but anyway.)

Since I'm talking about memories -- I've been thinking about the excellent game my sisters and I invented when my sister, secret codename: Apocalyptica, was in the hospital in Finland: Sufficient Number of Questions. I blogged about it once, so I won't get into it here. But the reason I've been thinking about it is that recently Cordelia, Apocalyptica, and I sang the longest ever version of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm," which reminded me that often, when sisters are involved, necessity leads to epic inventions. This version of "Old MacDonald" began as a means of entertaining two fussy one-year-olds, but I think that by the end, we were mostly amusing ourselves. And possibly driving my upstairs neighbors completely bonkers.

With no further ado, here are just a few suggestions should you ever run out of barnyard animals while singing "Old MacDonald Had a Farm":

• snake (a great hit should one of the babies suddenly discover her ability to make a "ssssss-sssss" sound for the first time ever)
• laughing hyena (maniacal cackle)
• Animal the Muppet (AAAAAAAAAA!) (This began a lengthy series of Muppets, which I'll spare you)
  
• train (Toot-toot!)
• conductor (All aboard!)
• trapeze artist (Hep!)
• a suffragette ("With a 'Votes for women!' here and a 'Votes for women!' there. Here a 'Votes for women!', there a 'Votes for women!', everywhere a 'Votes for women! Votes for women!'" -- if you think that's a mouthful, keep reading)
• Mikhail Gorbachev (Glasnost!) (This began a lengthy series of political references)
• Ronald Reagan (Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!)
• Bill Clinton (I did not have sexual relations with that woman!)
• Seinfeld (Hello, Newman!)
• Hamlet (To be or not to be!) (This began a lengthy series of Shakespeare quotes, which I'll spare you)
• Stanley Kowalski (Stella!)
• The Graduate (Elaine!)
• Captain Von Trapp (Edelweiss!)
• Compatriots of Spartacus (I'm Spartacus!) (This one involved standing up)

Anyway, the babies seemed to enjoy it.

:o)

Input Versus Output: A Weekend off Leads to Monday Randutiae

Angel to the team: This may come out a little pretentious, but one of you will betray me.
(Spike raises his hand to volunteer.)
Angel (giving Spike a disgusted look, then turning to Wesley): Wes.
Spike (disappointed): Aw! Can I deny you three times?

As a writer who's also a workaholic, sometimes I need a particular kind of rest. Namely, I need to take a break from output and spend some time on input, as if I'm refueling. It's tricky, because when this happens, I need to find things to read or watch or do that will NOT encourage my mind to spin about my own work. IOW, I don't sit down with a novel or movie that has similarities to my own -- because that would not be restful. But I *do* watch Friends reruns, and maybe read some scifi or Peanuts or nonfiction.

My instincts tell me when I need this kind of rest, and I always listen, because not listening -- keeping working -- leads to burnout.

Consequently, this weekend, due to my fondness for Ving Rhames, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, and Billy Crudup, I watched Mission Impossible III, and let me tell you, this led to some deep thought. Here's what I concluded: there are a number of reasons why that mission would have been highly improbable for me. (Um, spoilers ahead, sort of?) I don't have much experience with guns, and no experience while hanging out of the open door of a moving car; I could probably be convinced to base jump off a building under very specific circumstances, but not as part of a robbery, not while being shot at, and not into traffic; I can't lip-read with superhuman accuracy, or even at all, really; I cannot climb a 500-ish foot elevator cable; I can't speak every language fluently and with no tell-tale accent; I can't pick locks with, you know, like, a potato; I definitely can't run around having adventures with my long hair flopping beauteously in my eyes (This is one of my least favorite action movie tropes. If she were in a shoot-em-up adventure chase, she would tie her hair back. For the love of god, TIE HER FREAKING HAIR BACK!); I can't imitate other people's voices; I can't win a fistfight against Philip Seymour Hoffman. But do you know why this mission would have been flatly impossible for me? It's because of that moment at the very beginning when Ethan receives his instructions. "Sylvester McMonkey McBean is tied up in a third-story bathroom at 1465 Succotash Lane in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan and must be rescued within 24 hours, after which you must call Virginia Cadwalader Throttlebottom at o11-33-3456-46747-343 and tell her to wire $349,000,005 EXACTLY to bank account 56534-4535 at routing number 129543230. This is your mission, should you choose to accept it. This directive will self-destruct in five seconds." What? Five seconds!? Wait! Where am I going again? Shanghai? How much money? Who? WAIT! And then, *poof*, the message self-destructs.

Seriously, I think the most impossible thing Ethan does during his impossible missions is transfer random names, numbers, and places from his short-term memory to his long-term memory with no problem, even when drugged or under duress.

Anyway. The movie was fun, it was what it was, and it was slightly less insulting than most "rescue the beautiful, helpless woman who didn't know you were a secret agent but will love you anyway despite your lies leading to her being kidnapped and nearly killed" plots. (Sad, how low your standards drop and how little agency the beautiful, helpless woman has to have for you to feel like the movie is better than average.)

I also watched the episode of Friends ("The One Where Monica and Richard Are Just Friends") in which (spoilers!) Joey keeps his favorite book, The Shining, in the freezer, because the book scares him. (It scares him less if it's trapped in the freezer.) Rachel finds the book in the freezer, which leads to a conversation, and the conversation leads to a deal: Rachel will read The Shining if Joey will read Rachel's favorite book, Little Women. The two spend the episode reading each other's favorite books.

At the end of the episode, Joey comes into Rachel's apartment, nearly in tears, because Beth is sick and not getting better. And so Rachel and Joey put Little Women in the freezer so that Joey will feel less scared.

Joey always was my favorite of the six friends.

And! I watched more Angel Season 5. There's a LOT of good stuff in Season 5. Even some of the things I was meh about in previous seasons improve in Season 5. For example (spoilers!), Wesley's a complex, super-interesting character (so funny and goofy, so dark and occasionally horrible), but I've never really been able to care about his unrequited love for Fred, because I've never been able to convince myself to care about Fred. If I'm going to get behind a super-smart but frail female Whedon character, it's going to be River Tam every time, never Winifred Burkle. But then -- Fred turns into Illyria! Illyria never simpers, she is no one's second fiddle, and her relationship with Wes is so much more interesting than Fred's. I like the blue look, too. Good job, actor Amy Acker (say that 10 times fast). And good job, Alexis Denisof, too, of course. I wonder if he ever won any prizes? He does a great job with Wesley.

I also read Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins. No spoilers here, I promise; I'll only say that I loved it. And some of my friends didn't; I'm looking forward to those conversations. I'll link you to a couple places where the book is reviewed or discussed -- note that you WILL find spoilers in both of these places. First: I like how Kirkus dealt with the Mockingjay embargo, and I agree with their starred review. And second: I've been enjoying the Mockingjay discussion taking place in the comments at Roger Sutton's blog.

I also read, and recommend, this article in the Huffington Post: "Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Weiner Speak Out on Franzen Feud." I doubt that many people in children's literature will be shocked by the suggestion that The New York Times Book Review can be condescending to those written genres that are not literary fiction?

Lest you think I did nothing but read and watch my TV this weekend (not that there would be anything wrong with that), I also went to a park I hardly ever go to, and sat on a bench. It was peaceful, and then an amazing thing happened. You see, there are 3 writing projects I'm really excited about diving into once I finish Bitterblue. On Saturday on my bench, I suddenly realized that two of them are the same project. Two different books melded into one, and I started to have IDEAS. The ideas were tugging at me... I began to jot them down... and then, eventually, I noticed that the ideas and I had switches places and now I was tugging at them, and at that point, I stopped myself and went away to do something else. Because I'd crossed over from rest to work -- from input to output. It's a blurry line sometimes.

******

One of my books has received a very nice honor in Italy: young readers chose Graceling as their favorite book in the "terza media" category for the Xanadu prize. Thank you, Italian readers! If you look at some of the other winners in other categories, you'll understand why my Italian editor asked me if I ever imagined I'd win a prize along with Jane Austen. :o)

In Which the Babies Discover Leverage

The Internets surely are dangerous today for people (i.e., me) trying to avoid the temptation of Mockingjay spoilers.

That's why I'm going to blog about twin babies!

So, here's the thing about twin babies: the ways they interact with each other are awesome. For example, the way the awake one tries to wake up the sleeping one: by patting her stomach, rolling around on top of her, and yelling, "ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Or, the way the cheerful one tries to cheer up the fussy one: by patting her stomach, rolling around on top of her, and giggling, until both babies are giggling and rolling together.

This is IMMENSELY awesome.

And how about when they work together as a team?

The other day, I was in the kitchen, throwing some yummy baby foods into the crockpot. The babies were in the (baby-proofed) office, with the double stroller, wheels locked, in the office doorway, blocking them inside, akin to a baby gate. The babies were being pretty quiet, hanging out together, occasionally trying to get out but not seeming upset about their confinement. Another thing they seemed to be doing, besides trying to get out, was getting behind the door and pushing it shut and pulling it open, together, over and over again. Ah, babies and their games. How mellow and content we all were.

Until I watched them for a few moments and realized WHAT THEY WERE DOING.

They were getting behind the door, pushing it shut, opening it, then coming out from behind there and trying to get past the stroller and into the kitchen. Then finding that they couldn't get out, then going back behind the door, pushing it shut, opening it, then coming out from behind there and trying to get past the stroller and into the kitchen. Why? Because they'd figured out that though the stroller itself was too heavy for them to move simply by pushing it, they could move it by USING THE DOOR AS A LEVER. Every time they closed that door, they were moving the stroller forward an inch or so.

THEY WERE A TEAM OF BABIES PLOTTING AND EXECUTING ESCAPE.

Oh, it made me so happy. They have no idea how awesome they are.

Why I Haven't Been Blogging Much

Sometime in July, I got a massage. Before we started, as usual, I gave the masseuse a rundown of all the little aches and pains, pulled muscles and bruises I had so she would know what she was working with. It was a longer list than usual, and then, after we'd started, she kept pointing out problems I hadn't even realized I had. Finally, when she pointed out that my knee was puffy, I said, "I'm a wreck!" And she said, "Nah, you're just using what you've got."

This summer, I've been using what I've got, all the time, to the extreme. I've been working really, really hard, and I've been playing really, really hard. Some of the time, I was working so hard that I had to stop trapezing because the pace of writing hurt my arms too much. And some of the time, I was up to my ears (well, more accurately up to my lower thighs) in HEAVENLY BABIES.

So.

This is not the most earth-shattering post ever, I know. I just wanted to explain my semi-absence and apologize for the lack of substantive stuff in my brain and on the blog. Work has been hard, family and friends have been plentiful, and life has been awesome. I am a lucky ducky.

The trick below is called a set whip, and I'm proud of myself for pointing my toesies.

Perspective for a Friday

I continue to have the will to blog but not the time. Since I don't want to leave you all with nothing, here's some instant perspective:


Source: Hubblesite.org

Can you believe that beautiful thing exists in our world? (It's called the Sombrero Galaxy and you should really click on it to make it bigger.)

I always find it comforting to realize how tiny we are. Tiny doesn't mean unimportant; it only means tiny. I like to think of myself and everyone else as a tiny, important part of an enormous gargantuan world.

For a slideshow of some of the Hubble's best work, go here.

"Angel's just feeling a little off... and... he's not in the mood to... you know... butcher a camel."

So, I've still got those posts I want to write about writing, and I have a little time tonight... but I just don't have the brainpower or the heart. Or, rather, I do have the heart, but it's otherwise occupied. Brain, though: definitely absent.

In the meantime, in the world of the Internets, books, and television...

Internets!
Why on EARTH would Katsa and Hermione be fighting to the death? I keep trying to weigh their strengths and weaknesses and decide who would win, and I just end up giggling, because this is a fight that would not happen, except in the most bizarre circumstances. I'm thinking it would either need to involve a tragic misunderstanding that would lead to horrible guilt for the winner... or a weird circumstance in which the only way for one to save the world was to kill the other (i.e. -- BUFFY SPOILER! -- Buffy sending Angel into a hell dimension by plunging a sword into his heart)... which would lead to horrible guilt for the winner. Anyway, if you go over to vote, for that or any other match, do think it through. It's not about who we *want* to win; it's about who *would* win. Right? WE SHOULD ALL BE VERY LOGICAL ABOUT THIS. Or anyway, it shouldn't be a popularity contest, because those aren't fun. I'm loving the comments in which people argue for their winner.

Speaking of logical, I'm not sure why when my *book* is in a contest, my instincts tell me to stay away, but now that my *girl* is in a contest, I seem to be enjoying it. I guess I feel confident that Katsa can take care of herself.

Books!
I just finished rereading To Kill a Mockingbird. I hadn't read it since high school, so it'd been a while. I was supposed to read it in grad school, but I confess that it is the one book I was assigned in grad school that I didn't read. Why? Because it came up in a week in which I was also assigned The Wizard of Oz; Peter Pan; The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe; The Perilous Gard; The House on Mango Street; Wrestling Sturbridge; 145th Street; and The Bluest Eye, plus turned in a paper called "Defining the Impossible: What is Fantasy?" There was... a lot of reading the semester I took Fantasy and YA together. Go to Simmons. It's awesome.

Anyway. So, I don't have the brainpower to say anything deep and meaningful about TKAM, in addition to which, it's probably hard to find things to say about it that no one else has said before, so I'll just report that I enjoyed the reread. I'd remembered that it was about Boo Radley, I'd remembered that it was about race and prejudice and injustice, and I'd remembered that Scout wore a ham costume. What I hadn't remembered is that it is, essentially, a book about a girl who loves her father.

Now I'm reading, and enjoying, The Greengage Summer, by Rumer Godden. Rumer Godden is magic. I think my all-time favorite of hers is A Candle for Saint Jude, but I've also read and loved China Court and In This House of Brede.

Television!
Yay Lauren!

[Angel Season 5 spoilers ahead!]
So, my subject title today is something Fred says in Season 5 of Angel, in an attempt to comfort Harmony, after Angel yells at Harmony for having a camel delivered to the office. Poor Harmony. How was she supposed to know that Angel wouldn't want to ritually sacrifice a camel in the lobby of Wolfram & Hart?

Here's another favorite line so far from Season 5: "If you separate yourself from the ones you love, the monster wins." This is something wise Angel says to a young woman werewolf whom I'm pretty sure was cast because of how she looks in a wet t-shirt.

Without a doubt, Angel is no Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But I am enjoying Season 5 so far. Partly because it's not Season 4. (Almost every time I sat down to an episode of Season 4, I felt like I was taking one for the team. I'm so glad that's over.) And partly because (!!!!):

Welcome back, boys!

At the moment in my viewing, Spike is rescuing people from vampires in dark alleys, after which he verbally abuses his rescuees for walking through dark alleys at night while wearing impractical shoes. *sigh* My hero. Lindsey, the... ex-attorney weirdly-tattooed guy?... is lurking around being gorgeous, mysterious, and possibly pointless. So far, so good.

You know why else I like Angel?

For those who've never watched Angel, Lorne, the green guy pictured above, is an empath demon who can read minds and hearts and destinies -- if he hears the subject singing. In earlier seasons of the show, Lorne owned the most awesome karaoke bar where people came to sing for him, then get his life advice. He calls everybody by pastry endearments and I ♥ Lorne.

Yay, Angel Season 5!

And that's what's going on here.