This Is My Secret: The Blog and Website of Writer Kristin Cashore

I have been working hard on a LONG speech (60 minutes) I'm giving next week in Chicago, and I feel like I should write something here about speech-writing and revising and timing and practicing, but, you know what? I'm too damn tired. Also, I've been researching the American health insurance industry and, well, do I need to tell you how mindbogglingly infuriating and dispiriting that is? For-profit health insurance companies make me hope hell exists.

I'm too tired for serious blogging.

Hence! Would you like to see some pictures of my new favorite movie star?



Why do I like Shahrukh Khan? Well, his acting, OBVIOUSLY. Here he is in the role of "Cloned Man Jealously Guarding His Necklace."



Here he is in the role of "Tiny Chess-Playing Man, October 2009."



Here he is in the role of "The Bad Boy." I can tell because it says so on his shirt. In glitter. It is impossible to argue.



Oh, that's better. Here he is, my new favorite movie star, in th…

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 …

1. The following is an email exchange between Becca, Amanda, Jess, and me.
Me: Guys! I sprained my ass on the flying trapeze. Now I'm sitting on a cold compress.
Becca: I read "cold compress" as "golden compass" and was considerably puzzled.Golden compass explanation.

2. The following is an email exchange between Mike and me.
Me: I love Peeta like crazy, but I have to be honest: I don't love his name. Especially since he's the baker's son.
Mike: I agree. It's a little like naming your kid Phlatbred.
Peeta Mellark introduction.
3. The following is (another) email exchange between Becca, Amanda, Jess, and me.
Becca: I saw a bunny in my parking lot yesterday.
Me: A bunny! You remind me that I saw three bunnies in the business school the other day.
Becca: I wonder what business they plan to go into when they graduate.
Me: Garden vegetable retrieval?
Me: There was also this guy walking along, and a bunny crossed his path, and he barely even glanced at it. The…

Warning: trapezey photos ahead!

And an apology: this one got long!

But, first: Gollancz, my UK publisher, is releasing YA editions of my books under their new imprint, Gollancz YA. (Prior to this, my books were published in the U.K., Australia, and New Zealand for the adult market only.) And here's the Graceling cover ----> click to see it bigger --->

So. Back to business.

Here's the thing: sometimes I find it difficult to take breaks from my work. Writers, of course, are not just working when we're physically writing. We're working when we're wandering around the house trying to remember where we put our pen (answer: in our hair). We're working when we're reading. (Oooo! How did this writer just make me feel that way? Can I do that to my readers?) We're working when we're out for a walk. (Ooooo! How can I describe that sky?) We try to watch some TV, and then Sophie on Leverage describes a con that gives us an idea for the scene we're tryin…

At midnight ET, when this post is set to publish, I will (presumably) be in the sky, flying to France. You know what was invented in France? The flying trapeze! Obviously, this calls for a trapezey post.

Warning! To those afraid of heights: this is a trapezey post!

(Hello. Those of you who've been reading this blog for a while know I get a little batty before trips, right?)

(Bat: another thing that flies! See, there's a THEME here.)

Okay, *ahem herm* let's get serious. The flying trapeze was invented in 1859 in Toulouse by a Frenchman named Jules Leotard. Guess what he wore? Instead of a net, in the beginning Leotard used a swimming pool. I bet a soaking wet leotard is clammy and cold.

And that's all the history you're getting, because I'm about to leave for France and I haven't packed yet and I DON'T HAVE TIME.

So, I've got two videos for you today. The first is a little local news piece about my trapeze school. I can't seem to embed it, bu…

Hello! Your floopy author here, jumping in on a Tuesday eve with stuff and things.

Check it out -- the cover of Fire, Catalan edition, published by Grup62! Click to see it bigger. I secretly love it, even though it, um, has problematic associations in English :) ----------------->

So, as everyone knows, the best time to decide to write extra things is when you already have way too much to do. This is why I've written a guest post for the lovely Justine Larbalestier. It's one I promised some time ago, about trapezing, writing, and trust, and you can read it on Justine's blog here, complete with silly pictures.

Finally, over at Sarah Miller's blog, Sarah is trying not to let the pigeon procrastinate. (If you're a fan of Mo Willems's Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, this video will be especially delightful, but it's damn cute even if you've never encountered the belligerent pigeon.) It's only a minute and 15 seconds long, and it will make…

A friend recently told me that she can't bear the flying trapeze pictures on my blog, and was even starting to wonder if she was going to have to stop reading my blog because I kept springing trapeze stuff on her. You know, here I've been, completely oblivious in my love of jumping off things, not even realizing that I could be causing problems for my readers who are afraid of heights. I really am sorry! From now on, any trapezey posts will start with a warning of trapezey things ahead.

This post is NOT about the trapeze.... this post is about... I'm not sure, exactly. There's a lot going on these days, and I've been feeling ruminative. (Not to be confused with feeling ruminant.)


There were a lot of cows where I grew up. My favorite thing was walking past them while they stared at me intelligently, unmoving, with grass hanging out of their mouths. Every once in a while, one would move, and you would feel as if you'd been let in on some rare secret cow under…

So she sat still and quiet
As an unexploded bomb.
That's a poem called "Sit Still," by JonArno Lawson, from his poetry collection Think Again.

Here's a conversation I had with my sister, secret codename: Apocalyptica the Flimflammer, early last week:

Me: I have my third trapeze lesson in a few days. I'm so nervous!

Apocalyptica: Oh? Why?

Me: I keep having these flashbacks to junior high, when we were picking teams for gym class, and the kids picked me last every time, week after week, for years on end.

Apocalyptica: I know what you mean. It's like pre-calc for me. You find a thing that's hard for you for some reason, and it colors your sense of your own capabilities for the rest of your life!

Me: Exactly. And the funny thing is, looking back now, I don't think the reason they always picked me last was because I actually was bad at sports. I think it was only because they hated me.

At this point, Apocalyptica and I began to laugh hysterically, because thin…

So, at TSNY Beantown (the trapeze school), there are signs that say, "Forget fear. Worry about the addiction."

I had my second flying trapeze lesson last week. (If you missed my first, I talked all about it here.) Click on the photo below to see just how silly that silly face is:


(The white bar near my left foot is the trapeze I'd just sprung off of.)

Today I'm going to be explainy about the trapeze, what it's like, how it works. In addition to a staff member helping you on the platform and one on the floor who is both calling commands and managing your halter lines, there are two people taking part: the flyer, who is you; and the catcher, who is a professional, and who sits and swings in what is called the catch trap. Basically, in every class, you, the flyer, are learning a specific flying "trick." For the majority of the class, you're working on your trick by doing a lot of practice swings without the catcher. The goal is to get good enough at th…

How do you choose your early readers -- the ones who give you helpful criticism while you're still writing and revising?

This is a really important question and is a process that can take some experimentation. Here's what I've decided I need in an early reader:
A person who reads books often and intelligently.
A person who is willing to tell me thehard truth.A person who, nonetheless, tells the truth with respect, i.e., delivers criticism in a way that fortifies me, NOT in a way that tears me down.Intelligence, truth, and respect. That's what you need from an early reader. The person who doesn't read lots of books? Might not have opinions that will be of much value to you. The person who tells you that your manuscript is perfect? Is either lying, loves you too much to see the flaws, or is not the discerning reader you're looking for. The person who laughs at your work, tells you you're stupid, and suggests that you're wasting your time? I advise you to…

I watched the Youth Media Awards webcast live with a second tab open to my library account so that I could put books on hold as they were announced. Congratulations are flying around the internet, of course, and I'd like to add mine. Especially to Rebecca Stead and Francisco Stork for When You Reach Me and Marcelo in the Real World, winners of the Newbery and the Schneider, respectively, because (1) I love those books, and (2) we three share an agent, so in some silly way, I think of them as my writer siblings. Congrats to my agent, too!

A list of the award-winners is here.

My weekend rocked (you did see the the trapezing shenanigans, didn't you?), and now that things are settling down, Bitterblue is tapping and tugging. I like activity, and then I like the calm and focus that follows the activity. Time for a winter writing blitz!

One last thing: Massachusetts Democrats, get your butts out and vote for Martha Coakley today. I mean it!

See this rig?


See these authors?


Don't you think these authors should jump off that rig?

Well, anyway, they thought so.

Sarah Miller and I fly on the trapeze (S left, I right; click to enbiggen):



Sarah and I reach for the catcher.




The catcher snatches us out of thin air:




Not done yet! Here are videos (practice swings, sans the catch):





For those interested in trapeze lessons, check it out. It was SO MUCH FUN. In particular, the moment when you're flying upside-down like crazy and suddenly a swinging man appears, grabs your wrists, says, "Gotcha," pulls you off your trapeze, swings you back really far, swings you forward really far, and then flings you into the air: AMAZING.