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

In the past five weeks, I've been in Alaska, Western Mass, Vermont, New York, and Pittsburgh, all while continuing to orchestrate a house and office move here in Boston and gear up for a book release. Next week, I go to ALA in Chicago. Meanwhile, the news continues along in its horrible way. Somehow I've managed to protect my writing time, more or less... but I'm tired.

So yesterday, I took the day off from writing. I finalized some things in the old apartment; I mended some clothes; I listened to the podcast Buffering the Vampire Slayer (in which Jenny Owen Youngs and Kristin Russo rewatch, and talk about, every episode, and then at the end of each episode, Jenny releases her recording of a wonderful song about each episode! It's THE BEST). And then I went to Sofra and read Tamora's Pierce's upcoming Tempests and Slaughter while outside the windows, it poured.


I hope you are finding moments of peace.

Revising, as I've mentioned, is really intense right now, so I'm making sure I take breaks whenever I need them. Today at midday, I decided I needed a walk to clear my head. However, it's 41°F (5°C) outside today, a heat wave the likes of which I've apparently forgotten how to cope with; I put on my longjohns, my wool socks, my arm warmers, my scarf, my hat liner, and spent the first few minutes dying of heat and pulling off layers. It's amazing outside! The river has been iced over for weeks, but today there's a sheen of melted water on top. The geese are walking around on the ice in the usual manner, except that it's more slippery today, so each step includes a little unsteady slide which doesn't seem to cause them the panic that sort of thing causes me. I suppose if my center of gravity were six inches off the ground and I had webbed feet bigger than my head and could fly, I wouldn't panic either.

Because of the sheen of water, each goose had a …

I am getting some much-needed rest and rejuvenation with the help of some little girls in Florida. Recent conversations:

Codename Isis (aged 3) (in the living room, building a puzzle): Where is the other puzzle piece?
Codename Phoenix (aged 3) (thoughtfully): Science will solve this mystery.

Isis (in the park): How will we get these ants off the tree stump?
Phoenix (thoughtfully): A woodpecker will solve this mystery.

Isis and Phoenix (in my bed this morning): Kristin, Kristin, can we help you put your tooth protector in its case? (That's the mouthguard I wear when I'm sleeping, being a tooth grinder. For some reason, of all my possessions, this is their favorite. It has fascinated them for years.)
Me: Of course!
Phoenix: It doesn't fit on our teeth.
Isis: It only fits on big people teeth.
Me: Actually, the dentist made it so that it only fits on my teeth! It doesn't fit on anyone else's teeth in the world.
Isis (extremely grave): That's sad.

***

Last night at…

If you've never seen a movie by Terrence Malick, The Tree of Life (out in theaters now) might not be the best one to start with; I worry that this tale of family relationships in the 1950s and today, starring Brad Pitt, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, and Sean Penn, might lose you 'round about the time it flashes back to the era of the dinosaurs. :o) Then again, maybe not; my first Malick movie was Days of Heaven (1978), which is also pretty abstract and plot-free, and I loved it from the first frame. Malick's movies are abstract, poetic, musical, beautiful, and always deep character studies. I love them and I loved The Tree of Life, including the dinosaur part; do try watching one at some point, if you never have. It might not be your thing (a guy stormed out of the theater in a huff partway through), but it also might be your favorite thing ever (there was one woman who stayed to watch all the credits, just like me). The other three Malick movies I have…

When I'm really, really tired and trying to juggle too many balls (metaphorically), sometimes my short-term memory completely vanishes. For example, I'll be walking along the street, see the cash machine, and think to myself, "Maybe I should get some cash just in case I need it at the airport tomorrow. Should I? Shouldn't I? Yes, I should!", I'll think, proud of myself for making an important travel-related decision. Then I'll look around in confusion, wonder why I'm having a conversation with myself on the sidewalk, and walk home. Forgetting all about the cash. Or, something that just happened 15 minutes ago: I'll let myself into the lobby of my building, and then, as I'm walking the short distance to my door, put my keys away in my bag, proud of myself for this excellent example of multitasking. Finding myself at my door, I'll stare at the door in confusion, remember I need the key to get inside, then panic for a moment, because I can…

Hello everyone. This is your friendly author Kristin here. I wanted to let you all know that I have lost my mind. Here is an emoticon of me standing next to my disembodied head. I am thinking of using it as a soccer ball.

/|\
/\ O


Here is an emoticon of me bravely using my laser vision to vanquish a flying apple while balanced on a yoga ball. When you've lost your mind, you think it's normal to do things like this.

o~-~-~-~-~-~-~ß|O


Here is an emoticon of me on the flying trapeze. This is actually a sane thing I like to do from time to time, though my mother might argue otherwise.

|__|
|o|
8
/\


Ah, those were carefree days. Not like now. Here is an emoticon of me dead from too much work, in profile.

O_____,


Wait, she stirs!

O\/___,


Again, she stirs!

O__\__,


Is there hope?

O_____,


No.

O_____,


There is no hope.

O_____,


Diagnosis: DEAD.

O_____,


So, this is what we've been reduced to on the blog. Here's the deal: I am not actually dead. However, I don't have a lot of time or energy right …

Oh, December. At least you're predictable.

Last year, I took most of December off from the blog. This year, I might as well turn it into a tradition. I don't know about you, but for me, December is always twice as much month as any other month, and I have a whole lot to do before I'm ready to get on an airplane and venture to a yet-to-be-determined location for Christmas. For example, I need to determine a location. :o)   Anyway, between trapezing and Bollywood, my last few posts were so long that some of you might need all of December to read them.

One note to anyone thinking about buying signed copies of Graceling or Fire as Christmas presents: I'm pretty sure I'm going to be 1,158 miles away from my local bookseller during the week before Christmas... *measures arm* ...way too far away for me to reach the title page with my pen, so get those orders in soon.

To those who have celebrated, are celebrating, or will be celebrating a holiday: peace and joy to you. For…

Just for the record, if I were standing on a mountain counting my money and some guy came along, first produced a pistol, then produced a rapier, and said, "Stand and deliver, for you are a bold deceiver! Musha ring dum-a do dum-a da, whack fol the daddy-o, whack fol the daddy-o, there's whiskey in the jar!".... I really would have no idea what he wanted.

So, in case you didn't believe me on Monday when I said I'd been to Prince Edward Island, well, that would be weird of you, but anyway, I just got the pictures from my Mom, and you'll find you can't argue with this photograph.


Now do you believe me?

(It's my toes in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.)

(Click any of the pictures to enbiggen.)

At the dunes in Greenwich, no dogs were allowed.


Thank goodness, polar bears were. (Presumably. There were no signs indicating otherwise.)


I crossed the walkway over the dunes.


Then I gestured to the right.


Then my Dad and I took off our shoes.


Isn't this the best photo journa…

Here's the story of my vacation: I went to Prince Edward Island. Now I'm back.

la la la la la

Hey, listen, I am not a travel writer, okay?

Actually, I do expect to have some things to say about the trip, but I'm waiting for the pictures from my photographer, also known as my mom. In the meantime -- I read lots of books, listened to lots of music, went to a ceilidh, and *bought* lots of music (all of which tend to happen when I'm in PEI) -- so here's the report.

I Read and Recommend:
The Ballad of Lucy Whipple, by Karen Cushman. MG historical fiction, takes place in California during the Gold Rush (mid-1800s).The Fire-Eaters, by David Almond. YA realism, takes place in 1962 (the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis) in the north of England (in and near Newcastle).How Green Was My Valley, by Richard Llewellyn. Literary fiction, takes place in southern Wales in the 1800s, around the time coal miners unionized, whenever that was. This is a classic you may have read in high sc…

I'm still away, but I set this up to post while I was gone. A friend gave it to me just at the moment when I needed it most. Thanks, Sandra, for sharing these lyrics with me:

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
urgent for a finish line --
and I have been missing the rapture this whole time
of being forever incomplete.

Ever unfolding, ever expanding --
ever adventurous and torturous --
but never done.
They're from the song "Incomplete" by Alanis Morissette. Here she is singing it:

A Dunder Mifflin staff meeting, called because Michael Scott, Regional Manager, wants to change things up in the office, create some new excitement:

MICHAEL: So, what we need to do is we need to get things going. We need to get percolating a little bit. Anybody have any ideas of what we could do? Any suggestions? Yes -- Andy?

ANDY: What if we changed our outgoing answering machine message so it just had a little more ZING and a little more PEP?

MICHAEL: Zing and pep! See, those are the kinds of words we're looking for! Who else? Yes -- Jim?

JIM: What if we did an even newer voicemail message that had even more zing and pep?

MICHAEL: Now we're cooking! I like this!

I enjoy the spirit in which Jim enters into the idiocy of his office even though he himself is not an idiot. Maybe, surrounded by all those... unique... people, he would go mad if he didn't.

So, I'm going away to cooler climes for the week, in search of zing and pep -- the zing and pep that come from good food, goo…

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 …

In keeping with my blog break, here's a link from "The Big Picture," which tells news stories in photographs -- but I'll warn you that it might break your heart. It's photos of what BP's oil spill has done to the Gulf of Mexico. Some of them are gorgeous and all of them are depressing. Here's a preview photo for you. It's not one of the beautiful ones, but it's the one that made me furious. If you've been reading my blog for a long time, you might know why.


Thanks to my pal Jen for the link.

I wonder if anyone has ever written a paper about the wanton destruction of property and how it relates to the concepts of home and homelessness in the Buffyverse? Everytime I watch a "home" that I've grown fond of get torn up or chopped down or blown apart (for example -- spoilers! -- Buffy's living room; the library of Sunnydale High; Sunnydale itself; Angel's first L.A. office; various parts of Angel's hotel; Lorne's club over and over again), I think about it. It'd make an interesting paper. I'm not sure if there's such a thing as "home" in the Buffyverse.

And a more serious matter: I wonder if anyone has ever written a paper about how completely outlandish it is that Lindsey McDonald was voted number eight on the list of the Top 20 Sexiest Men in the Buffyverse. Eight? Seriously? I won't argue with Spike at #1 (even though I think of him as "generally fabulous" more than I think of him as sexy), and I can'…

Well -- once she's dealt with the surprise and disappointment -- she hoards it, like a squirrel hoarding acorns for winter. In three weeks, you see, I fly to Italy and start my European tour, and I'm going to be gone for almost a month. I don't have a lot of weekends at home in my near future. And weekends at home are the absolute best for writing, because on the weekend, distracting businessy things stop, and it's easier for me to focus.

As I write this, the weekend is still happening, so I'm going to stop writing this now and get back to hoarding. I leave you with part of a lengthy text message exchange I had this weekend with my sister, secret codename: Cordelia, who is highly fond of a particular song from The Sound of Music:
Me: At trapeze class there's loud music. Yesterday, Sound of Music medley. Have had Climb Every Mountain in head ever since, except in yr voice instead of reverend mother's.

Cordelia: I hope you have it in your head every day of y…

Breaking my blogging fast to give you a present: perspective.



Thanks to my pal, secret codename: SBPWK, for the link.

Some wise friends of mine have convinced me to take an internet break until January. Therefore, this will be my last scheduled post until the new year. I wish you all a peaceful, thoughtful, and joyful December.

For anyone wanting bloggy reading while I'm gone, I've compiled a Best of the Blog list, randomly chosen by yours truly. Many of these are posts I wrote a long time ago, before my blog was getting so much traffic -- which means that they might be new to you. It's kinda long, the list, but... well, it's only for you to read if you want, so ignore it at will!

I Heard There Was a Secret Chord That David Played...February 14: Interplanetary Be Who You Are DayOver-Optimistic Are Those Who Have Not Seen and Yet BelieveA Trip to the Library Has Made a New Girl of Me...Who Are Your Character Crushes?Who's Up for a Labor Day Rant?Blessed Are The Meek, for They Shall Be Scratched Behind the Ears
I Believe in Little Things, Like You and Me...I ♥ FinlandIn Which Karma…

(Or so sings Lou Reed in one of the best songs ever... except that it sounds so sad when he sings it. I don't mean it so sadly!)
Last week was a tough one. You know those times when you're contemplating everything you've done in the past year, and then suddenly you realize you did all that stuff in the past month?

Anyway, Wednesday night, I went to bed completely rattled, burned out, and beat. Thursday morning, I woke to a phone call from a lady at my credit card company, who was calling to verify suspicious activity on my account. She was right: I had NOT purchased a song online for 99 cents the day before. (Though I had three days prior, making it a particularly clever theft for the perpetrator to have perpetrated -- but, um, still a bit underwhelming? 99 cents? Is it really worth going to all the trouble of being nefarious to buy one song on iTunes?). Why, I asked the lady, would anyone steal my credit card info and then spend 99 cents? I dropped my credit card in …