Friday Obsessions: Yo-Yo Ma, Blogging Ahead, and Peeta's Bread

Happy Friday, sweet readers!  

It's actually been a pretty decent week! I mean, I'm still in the query trenches, but I didn't have to eat any trench rats this week (translation: nothing made me cry) so we're calling that a WIN.

In less pleasant news, my ankles are the size of my head.

The upshot is that I pretty much have to sit on the couch with my feet up at the end of the day. Which means my WiP did not suffer for word-count this week.  Another WIN.

Anyway. Enough about me. Let's get on with talking about my obsessions.
(I know, I know. Self-centered, etc. But it's my blog, you see?)


Everything I was obsessed with this week. 
Because I know you want to know. 

1. Yo-Yo Ma. Very little makes me emotional, music-wise. The things that most get to me are my MS's playlists (duh) and then artists like Yo-Yo Ma, who is an unquestionable MASTER in his field, and plays so beautifully.

His treatment of Bach's cello suites is absolutely astounding, and definitely the music I listen to when I need that weird mix of neutral, calming, and energizing, all at the same time.

But, you guys. There's MORE. Watch this video of him playing. He's an expert, yeah, but check out how HARD he works to nail a piece that he's played a kajillion times - a piece that he's famous for. You can just tell that he is trying so hard to get better - AS IF HE COULD GET BETTER - each and every time.

This is inspirational, y'all. I only hope that I work this hard at everything I write.


2. Blogging-in-Advance. Probably about a month from now I'll need to take a short hiatus (a few weeks at least) from blogging. I'd like to continue to post at least twice a week. Lord knows I have a pile of drafts sitting on my dashboard, but they need to be finished and shined up before I can post them.

Also: I'm looking for guest posts. Especially from those of you who are my favorites. You know who you are. Or even IDEAS for posts I should write. No, seriously. I'm obsessed with getting a backlog done so I can just hit "publish."

Thanks. *kiss kiss*

3. Peeta's bread.
So....my Wisconsin baking bestie Amanda Stein, who runs The Challah Blog, is just as in love with The Hunger Games as I am. (Not just as in love with PEETA, mind. No one loves Peeta as much as I do. Seriously. You may think you do, but you don't. Step off.) 

Anyway. She invented a recipe for Peeta's bread - you know - the kind he burned on purpose to give to Katniss so that he could save her life and then....*sigh*

Anyway. I made some. A couple batches, actually. Want a loaf? I will trade one for a guest blog.
 (*kiss kiss*)



And last but not least, Chrome. Chessie shamed me in a word war on Wednesday - like, cleaned the internet's floor with me, and it's DIRTY down there - so I figure might as well show something for it.

Here's a part of a scene from when Havah visits the Iver, who live underneath Chrome City.

An Iver answered the door. Her clothing looked like a sack - brown and loose and tied with a sort of makeshift belt. Her hair, wiry and dark, was cropped short, like all the peoples’ seemed to be down here. Men and women, the same. 

She peered out the door, and a sheen of sweat coated her brow. Havah grimaced. There was an odd, unclean sort of smell coming from inside the little room. Sweat, and something else. Something warm, something heavy.

“Here for a routine transgression check,” the bionGuard barked at the woman.

Havah swore the woman’s lower lip trembled. “Yes,” she said softly, “of course,” and stepped backward inside.

She stared down at the ground as she gestured toward the tiny, dimly-lit room. There was a single table, three chairs, and a wide white mat on a slightly elevated surface in the corner.

“Do you…live here?” Havah asked.

The woman gave her a strange look, then a curt nod. It seemed to Havah that she didn’t breathe. That she was holding a space open with her silence. Like she was waiting for something.

Just as a bionGuard looked at the woman and said, “Thank you, Iver 3476,” A strange, high sound pierced the air.

The bionguard stopped in its tracks, and the Iver woman clapped a hand over her mouth. Her body heaved with a silent sob.

The high sound crested through the air, again, longer. Coming from nowhere.

The bionguard looked at the Iver woman, then strode straight to her cupboard, snapped the lock off, and flung open the door.

Inside stood a wide-eyed child, the space under its nose glistening with something wet. Its eyes bugged wide, as it stared at the bionguard. The child reached up a chubby hand, strangely stuck to a spindly arm, as if to touch the bion’s sleek silver face.

The bionGuard crouched down to the child’s eye level. A blue light emanated from its eyes, sweeping down over the child’s body. A scan.

“Female,” the bion announced. The Iver woman let out a keening wail and fell to her knees on the concrete floor beside Havah.

Yikkkkkes. I'll tell you right now - this isn't going to end well for anyone.  (Thanks for reading!)

Okay, sweet readers. Your turn - What were YOU obsessed with this week?

Friday Obsessions: A Girl Who Reads, No Envy, No Fear, and Fountain Sodas

Happy Friday, sweet readers! It's been another week of lows sprinkled with a couple of sparkly little highs in the query trenches. As I say, it could always be worse.

Writing itself is going pretty slowly, I'm sad to say, and I'm looking for a voice-finding breakthrough to strike me this weekend. When I was drafting One, Merrin's voice just flowed, and this one....? I know it's in there somewhere, I just have to figure out how to get it from my brain into my heart, you know? My CPs have had some suggestions, and I'd love to hear yours- at this point, I'll try anything.

Anyway, that's the update. Without further ado...

Everything I was obsessed with this week.
Because I know you want to know.

1. Spoken Poet Ryan Grist on a Girl Who Reads. (Warning: Begins and ends with a couple of slightly objectionable words for body parts. WORTH IT.)

I don't normally go for spoken word poetry, but this is AMAZING. Might make me reconsider. I know it's annoying when people say "just watch the video," but...just watch it. (I've hit "replay" at least 30 times this week.) Yum.



2. Joshua Radin's No Envy, No Fear. Just another calming song for another tumultuous week. Plus, I like the idea - "No envy, no fear." A good goal for a writer, even if I'm far, far from it.




3. Fountain Soda. 
Oh, fountain soda. Pop from a can is one thing, but there's something about the way the fizzies diminish in just the right way and the ice so perfectly chills it that makes me OBSESSED with fountain soda. I don't know if it's a blame-the-fetus thing, but I'm craving it even more now. Especially the ice. Lots and lots of ice.



And now a bit from the WiP.  You might be able to tell what a struggle it's been...*shrugs.* I think I'm going to try some writing exercises this weekend (guh. I've never needed exercises) to get the juices flowing.

In the meantime, meet Princess Laila. She's Havah's big sister, and they're getting ready to walk the carpet into a club for Laila's eighteenth birthday extravaganza.

“Besides,” Laila said, “With as often as you sneak away, you should be wearing an EMP too.”

Havah snapped her head around to look out the window again before Laila could see the flood of red to her cheeks.

“Who are you seeing, anyway, when your bionguards lose you? What are you doing?”

Havah was quiet.

“It had better not be a boy. Mother would kill you.”

“What does Mother care about me and parties? Or boys, for that matter? If there were any. And what do you care? We all know you’re the one everyone’s watching.”

“Havah,” Laila’s voice became softer. “I may be the next Queen, but I’ll always need you.”

Havah turned back, blush gone, and smiled. She leaned in, reaching for Laila’s hand and threading their fingers together. “I know.” Then she wiggled her eyebrows, darted her face toward Laila’s, and smacked a big wet kiss on her cheek.

“Havah!” Laila screeched. She moved to swipe at her cheek but stopped her hand at the last moment, patting gently at it instead. “My paint!” She glared at Havah but didn’t pull her hand away.

Havah giggled. “You’re lovely, Lai. Paint or not, and you know it.”

Laila glared. “Princess Laila once we’re outside. Princess Havah.”

“Of course, LaiLai. Will you calm down? Let’s just have fun. Okay? Party time, birthday girl.”

Friday Obsessions: Imogen Heap, Pinterest, and Spiderman Trailer

Well, friends, it's been a tough week in the querying trenches. (Which, as my CPs know, is a serious understatement.) So, I'm just gonna pretend the trenches don't exist. Manuscript? What manuscript?

Please join me in going to my happy place, as I bring you....

Everything I was obsessed with this week.
Because I know you want to know.


1. Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek"
So, someone suggested this song as a calming thing for me last week. If you just sit back, crank it up, and let the sounds wash over you, it's perfect for calm. But the lyrics are quite sad.
I realized that it fits perfectly with a certain sequence of scenes in the WiP, and so I've begun to associate it with that mood - that of a tragic inevitability. Awesome.



2. Pinterest
Not so much an obsession as a happy discovery at the outset of this WiP. When I write, I'm really inspired by visuals, and so Pinterest is AMAZING - You can pin All The Pretty Things up on one board! That you can access anywhere! It basically lets me paint the scenes of my WiP for reference any time, anywhere, and has already been invaluable.

(Check out my board for Chrome. Awesome.)

3. The Spiderman Trailer
I'm just psyched for this movie summer in general, but oh man oh man. Spiderman. The wit! The drama! ANDREW FREAKING GARFIELD. Ahem.

Just watch it. (Sorry. I can't find one without an annoying ad before it.)



Annnnnnd the WiP. I haven't done very much good work on it, so you know what that means. I need some tough love. If you can find it in your heart, leave some in the comments. Thanks. <3

(Meet Sarra. She's one of the Iver - the slave class that lives underground.)

“Nedda,” Sarra breathed, “Thank you.”

Nedda smiled wearily, and led her in to the tiny room, that held twenty small girls. They huddled around bowls that fit in the palms of their hands, focused on getting every last morsel into their mouths. One of the littlest ones, Brona, who must have been about four years old now, squealed, jumped up, and threw her arms around Sarra’s waist. Nedda caught her by the arm, leaned down. “Shah, Bron. We don’t want anyone to hear.”

The girl looked down, blinking back tears. Sarra crouched down to her eye level, feeling soft and full of love for the first time in days. Weeks, maybe. She kissed each of Brona’s cheeks and hugged her tight. The girl’s body relaxed against her, then clung to her as she slung her arms around Sarra’s neck.

Sarra couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure the girl’s excitement to see her brought. The poor sweetheart had lived her entire life in the cold, cramped quarters, and if she could still find warmth in her heart, Sarra wasn't about to deny her that. She’d never shush one of the little ones for showing love. 
Sometimes, she thought that love for each other was all the Iver had left. Especially these girls, who held the Ivers’ future in their hands, though their existence was a crime.

Friday Obsessions: David/Mary Margaret, the Breaking Dawn Soundtrack, and Chanukah!

(Before we begin: a Special "Hiiiiii!" and hugs to my new followers! You are amazing. Yep! YOU.)


Everything I was obsessed with this week. 
Because I know you want to know.

1. David and Mary Margaret from "Once Upon a Time." Don't groan. If you follow this blog, you're gonna hear about these two in more than one Friday Obsessions post. Just go with it. Let the awesomeness sweep over you.

I've decided that in an alternate universe David/Prince Charming is my boyfriend and Mary Margaret/Snow White is my bestie. (Yes, I know it might get complicated. That's okay.) He's so gorgeous! (Watch his lips move. Juuuust watch 'em.) She's so adorably pretty! He's so heroic! She's the best friend a girl could ask for! What's not to love?

Watch this scene and just try to tell me, in all seriousness, that your heart doesn't break. JUST TRY.


2. The Breaking Dawn Soundtrack. Don't hate. (And CPs, prepare yourselves, you're all getting a burned copy for Christmas. I'm an evangelist. Love me or leave me.)

Oh! You want my favorite tracks? I thought you'd never ask.
Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years" (makes me think of my mains from THE TRAVELERS, tears my heart out every time.)
Cider Sky's "Northern Lights" (makes me think of the happy times for my MCs in ONE - noticing a pattern here?)
Iron & Wine's "Flightless Bird, American Mouth - Wedding Version" (Guh. Gorgeousness.)

3. Chanukah. 
I'm normally opposed to getting too psyched for Chanukah before, well, Chanukah.
Here's why. Not only is Chanukah eight nights long, but we do pretty much the exact same thing every night. (Light the candles, sing the songs, fumble to pry chocolate coins out of their foil wrappers before the children eat us instead.) So, my fear is that the kids will get all blase about Chanukah by, like, night five, and by the end of it, they'll just kind of lay on the carpet, stare at the menorah, and say, "Oh, that again?"  (Remember, my kids are only 4, 3, and 18 months, so I don't have decades of experience here.)

In past years, I haven't hauled The Chanukah Box out of storage until the day of candlelighting #1. But this Wednesday (T-13 days till Chanukah) my doula called looking for some dreidels for a Boy Scout thing, and I was set to facilitate a Chanukah prep program for area interfaith families that required I bring my own menorah, so I had to crack The Box open way early.

Of course the kids hover over any box to come out of storage, sweet little vultures that they are. Their chubby hands hauled out the glittered Jewish-star garland from preschool last year, dreidels in all shapes and sizes, our copy of "A Rugrats Chanukah," every Chanukah toy on the face of the planet, and all ten million of our Chanukah books, along with copious amount of wintertide cheer. As I watched my them spend hours (seriously! hours!) stuffing candles in  the plush menorah and flipping wooden latkes, and then poring over THE RUNAWAY DREIDEL and CHANUKAH BUGS, my heart grew three sizes and I let them keep all the stuff out for a few days.

And of course, now I'm kind of obsessed with Chanukah too. Two weeks too early. Oh well.

Here's a shot from last year at our house, in case you want to catch the Chanukah warm-fuzzies too.



Okay, my dears, it's your turn. What were you obsessed with this week?

Nailing the Soundtrack

Have you ever had a moment when you hear a song and think, "How did that singer know what my character was thinking?"

Or have you ever heard a song lyric that sparked an entire scene, subplot, or entire story idea?

I'm one of those writers that NEEDS music to write a story. Whether each song acts as inspiration, encouragement, or support for what the characters do and why they do it hardly matters. The songs and my scenes are so closely linked - whether by emotion or concept - that I can't remember, for most of them, whether I wrote the scene first, and then added the song, or heard one line of a song that sent me into a writing frenzy.

For me, the work of building a book's playlist is just as slow, thoughtful, and full of heart as the writing itself. I add a bunch of songs, take most away, listening over and over, feeling them out to see what rhythms, lyrics, melodies, and progressions make my heart soar or ache. I add songs and write according to what rings true.

It's not unusual for me to write a scene, song blasting in the background, with tears streaming down my face. Sometimes when I'm completely lacking inspiration, I get in the car and speed down a long stretch of highway (you can do that in Ohio,) soundtrack blasting, and then pull off an exit to pour scenes into my netbook.

The mood of the songs changes according to the part of the book I'm writing. Sunshiney happy love songs may be on endless repeat for weeks while I'm writing first kisses and joyful discoveries, but when the character's Black Moment comes up? You can bet the songs coming out of my computer speakers reflect her  fears and, at their core, her determination.

Now that I'm revising ONE, I've fallen in love with its soundtrack, in its entirety, all over again. Here it is:

 

And just like there's one grand, sweeping theme for every novel, one song always comes to the fore of my head and heart as a book's "theme song." Here's that one:

What about you? Do you write to music? What does it do for you and your book?

Friday Playlist! Arcade Fire, the Fray, and the Postal Service

I have an obsessive personality (I think it takes one to write something book-length, no?), and so it's no surprise to me when I realize that I've listened to the same few songs on repeat for pretty much the entire week to inspire writing, revising, polishing, etc. I think I'll put the list up every week - sometimes it's one song, sometimes it's ten - just for fun.

Here we go!

Arcade Fire: "Wake Up." - This is one of my all-time favorite songs to put on the car when you're driving down the freeway with windows open. It's driving, powerful, and feels like a freefall every time it's on. Love it.  Perfect for the "your characters just kicked ass but now are kind of scarred by it" muse.

The Fray: "Ungodly Hour." - So haunting, so sad, just like all the best Fray songs. Still there's a deep love in here. Perfect for writing the gut-wrenching stuff.

The Postal Service: "Brand New Colony" - Words can't describe how much I love this song. Optimistic in the face of suckiness, and we all have days when we need  that, right? Right?

Have an awesome weekend, you guys! I'm planning a reading binge myself, with Hourglass and Blood Red Road on the front page of my Kindle.