I got caught in the rain on my way home from the post office. I swear the closer I got to home, the harder it poured. By the time I got back, I was sopping wet, and my socks were squishy inside my shoes and I was gushing water everywhere. My arm got really wet and looked like a soggy monster arm:

Those light brown flecks are dry spots.

I failed to get a picture of me in my new glasses. I am horribly unphotogenic in indoor lighting, and in the pic I took, I looked like I’d smeared mustard all over my face, and I don’t even eat mustard. The glasses looked great, but I didn’t, so I’m holding out for a daytime pic, which might be a while since I’m not awake much during the day right now. (Having an abnormal sleep schedule is frustrating, but that’s life.)

Or at least my book is. It must be a pop culture collectible, since you can buy it on this pop culture collectibles site. You do not know how happy it makes me that you can buy Batman and Harry Potter merchandise in the same place you can buy my book (excluding Amazon, of course, where you can by EVERYTHING, so it’s not the same). I mean, you can buy Indiana Jones collectibles and Hellboy collectibles and a Domo-kun fedora and a plush Murloc and all sorts of TV and movie and other pop culture collectibles, and boy do I love collectibles, especially of the pop culture variety. This place is practically the Chelsea store, it has so many things for me to drool over. So how super awesome is it that I opened up my google alerts today to find that amongst all that stuff, they’re selling my book?

In other news, I have my first Goodreads giveaway going on. You pretty much just press a button to enter and you can win an advanced copy of The Rise of Renegade X. The contest runs for a month and then Goodreads picks a winner and tells me where to send it. It’s easy sauce for everyone involved and makes the book visible to a lot of people.

My glasses also came today, so expect another post with pictures later.

I suppose since this is my blog and since finishing a book is a big deal, that maybe I should, you know, mention it on here. I *did* mention what I was doing after finishing–i.e. wandering aimlessly and having no purpose in life–but I haven’t talked *about* the book. Did I even mention I was writing one? I don’t even remember–the last couple months are a huge blur. But, I mean, a few years down the road, you might be holding said book in your hands and going, “Wow–I want to know more about how this book was made. I want to read all her blog posts where she talked about the agony of writing it and the brilliant moments where everything came together and just… how and why and when.” (I have these thoughts when I read books. Don’t judge.) And you will look and… there won’t be any. >:/

I put that angry face there, but really of course it’s my fault if there aren’t any blog posts. And really I don’t want to talk about the book. Why? I spent three months on it. Three months might not sound like a lot of time, but this is, you know, all day every day for three months. I’m clocking in at least 700 hours on this, and that’s not anything to enter into lightly. It’s my tenth finished book (there are way more than ten unfinished ones *ahem*), and I love it very much.

And it’s also probably the greatest undertaking I’ve ever undertaken, so thinking about it also makes me all kinds of nervous. (It feels kind of good to admit that. *phew*) You know I majored in Latin, yes? Scisne me Latine dicere? Sic? Well, good. So, um, I wrote a historical. (Yes, I know, it’s “an” historical, but whatever. I already told you I majored in Latin–how stuffy do you want me to sound?) And it’s set in ancient Rome, which I have studied a lot. Sort of. I had to study it a lot more to write the book, and I had to do Research, with a capital R. Lots and lots of Research. I am not a research person, but this book was special and important and I had to, so I did. (And for the record, I enjoyed it and learned lots of cool things.) I also don’t write historicals, or paranormals, or books with real people in them. And I especially don’t write them in first person.

But, um, I did. I wrote a paranormal historical set in ancient Rome (84 B.C., towards the end of the Republic) involving some of my heroes fighting ghosts, natch, and my Latin teacher will probably barf when she reads it and that’s something I’ll just have to live with. Somehow. It’s also probably the best idea I’ve ever had and right now it’s called DEAD ROMANS and I am a-freaking-mazed that I wrote it and the dialog is pretty snappy and the characters are fun if I do say so myself and it’s got real events interwoven with completely made up–but based on what *could* have happened–paranormal stuff. And even if I can point to those 3 months/700 hours and say “That’s when I wrote it,” really it represents a cumulation of years of my life. Years of study and reading and thought and love and mixing ancient ideas and ideals with modern ones and mashing it all up into a fine stock for awesome sauce.

So, you know, it’s BIG. And while I love it, I don’t know yet if it’s good or not, and neither option would make it less scary, so it kind of doesn’t matter. I’m at the point where there is too much room to think about maybes and what ifs and OMG I WROTE THAT?!? So my coping method is to just not think about it at all. Which is easier said than done, and also very weird. I mean, I spend 3 months on something, and one day I’m working on it and it’s pretty much my life, and then the next day I’m not working on it anymore and I’m not thinking about it and it’s just over.

But like I said, that’s how I’m coping, so it’s all right. I’m taking some relaxation time and letting new ideas drift in while I wait to hear what my agent thinks of it.

***

And now for the other updates, which don’t seem nearly as important after all that. But they would seem even less important if I gave them their own post, so here they are.

I got Disney contracts today! W00T! They came through the e-mails and I had to print them out and get them notarized. It was all very official and the guy at the bank had to stamp a giant seal on them. They are now sitting in a plain manilla envelope (one I bought a million years ago for sending out query letters, back before I realized folding them wasn’t grounds for rejection and before e-queries were all the rage). On my nightstand on top of a pile of library books and research books for latest novel (see above), there is a very plain envelope that you would never think had anything important in it, but it has something very much the opposite of not important inside. It has, like, these important papers for this thing I never thought would happen to me. Crazy, yes? O__o (Yes.)

Also, I finally had an eye exam and my glasses should be coming soon. I’ve probably needed them for a long time, but I refused to give in. But the aforementioned 700 hours of computer and reading time have done me in and I can’t pretend I don’t need them anymore, because I get eye strain something fierce and it’s just not worth it. I mean, what am I trying to prove? That I can have headaches every day? -__- I can’t wait for the glasses to get here, and then there will definitely be pics.

So, I finished the novel I was working on. The last three months blew by in a blur of frantic research and worry and pounding out word counts and now that it’s done I get to wake up for a while and be a real person who showers on a regular basis and changes her clothes once in a while. There was that moment of OMG I FINISHED IT! when I got through the first draft, and then again when I got through the revisions. There was a beautiful, sparkly moment where all the months of hard work culminated in something awesome and now I’m like, “Wow, did I really write THAT novel? But… I never thought I would, and can you imagine, ME, writing one of those?”

But after spending months thinking about how great it will be when the book is DONE, that’s D. O. N. E. FINISHED, I have to say it’s never all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more thrilled about being DONE and having a book with a beginning, a middle, and an end to send to my agent and to have under my belt. And I am glad to have a break. But… Not having anything to work on is kind of unsatisfying. Reading, playing video games, watching shows guilt free, and even catching up on much needed chores is all fairly meaningless. Because if at the end of the day I’m getting ready for bed and have no word count, then how do I measure my worth? How do I know how satisfying the day was? There’s a certain fulfillment that comes with creating. I could miraculously burn through my entire TBR pile, and I’d still think, “But what did I DO today?”

It’s a purposeless existence, being in between books. It’s like being a knight with no dragons to slay. But it’s also good to take a break, and another book could strike at any moment, so I’d better get everything else done while I can.

Can you believe there are only 100 days left until The Rise of Renegade X comes out? It sounds like a lot, but then again, it’s only a little over three months, and when I first got the offer from Egmont, I had over 400 days to wait, so relatively speaking, 100’s not that much. (I remember when there were only 200 days left like it was yesterday.)

But more importantly, to celebrate I’m posting one of my favorite scenes. It’s from Chapter Four, and Damien, overcome with curiosity after discovering the father he’s never met is one of his mother’s superhero nemeses, is determined to track him down.

***

The next morning, I’m on the trail of the Crimson Flash. It was a little more difficult to track him down than the others, since he’s out wandering the streets of Golden City with his camera crew at half past the crack of dawn—did I mention I hate getting up early?—but I sweet-talked the secretary at the TV station into telling me what neighborhood he’s visiting this morning.

The Crimson Flash is a right upstanding citizen, and I so don’t want him to be my father. Not only can he fly and not only does he do good deeds all the time, but he has to go blasting it all over television. If one of the others was my dad, I could forget about it and not have to have the shame rubbed in my face all the time.

I catch up to the Crimson Flash on the street. He’s with his film crew, getting exciting footage of rescuing a kitten from a tree in someone’s yard. Square jaw, neatly combed hair that does not look anything like mine, even if it is the same shade of black, and a billowing cape. When he’s not out raising money to save orphanages and helping people down from flaming apartment buildings, he’s on TV, helping lost kittens out of trees.

I cross the street, ignoring the sounds of the man in the next yard arguing on his cell phone and kicking his lawnmower, which apparently doesn’t work. I approach the film crew and act like I’m a curious bystander, edging my way closer. Then I pretend I don’t notice what’s going on and walk over to the Crimson Flash. The camera guy’s assistant sticks his arm out to block me. He doesn’t say anything, just jerks his head in the other direction, indicating I shouldn’t get too close.

Damn. This is going to be more annoying than I thought.

“Don’t worry, kids,” the Crimson Flash says, pointing straight up at the mewling kitten, “the Crimson Flash is on the job.”

“Excuse me, sir!” I say, before he can fly six feet in the air and pull the fluffball to safety.

Everyone turns and looks at me, like they think I’m nuts if I don’t realize they’re filming.

I run up to the Crimson Flash, beaming at him. “You’re all about helping people, right?”

Genuine concern wrinkles his brow. “What can I do for you, son?”

Son. Great word choice. “I need a hair sample, if you don’t mind. It’s for school. For a project.” I’ve never been to school. That makes it harder to lie about it, but saying you’re doing a project seems to make people listen.

The Crimson Flash frowns. A breeze tugs on his cape. The kitten mewls nonstop in the tree, and the camera crew mutter angrily to themselves about how they’re not going to get out of here on time.

“A hair sample,” he says, eying my gloved hands with suspicion. He knows that a single hair could prove fatal for him if an enemy got a hold of it.

“Please, mister Flash, I only need one more. Everyone else in my class already has theirs.”

His mouth slips open as he ponders my request. He’s about to give in, and then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, son, but I can’t do that.”

The camera crew breathe a collective sigh of relief now that they can get rid of me and get back to work.

“I’ll make a bet with you,” I say as the Crimson Flash readies himself to save the kitten. I nod at the tree. “If I can safely get that cat out of there without moving from this spot, will you give me the sample?”

He looks up at how high the branch is, then raises his eyebrows at me.

One of the crew mutters, “I gotta see this.”

The Crimson Flash thinks it over. Then he folds his arms, a superior smile on his face. “All right,” he says. He doesn’t think I’ll win; he’s probably a man of his word, he’ll probably give me the hair sample when I do, but I’m not taking chances. “And what if you lose?” he asks.

“I won’t.” I bend down and pick up a pebble. I squint at a branch in the tree, pinching the pebble between my forefinger and thumb, getting ready to shoot it. I take my left glove off and lick my forefinger, then hold it up to test the wind. Everyone is mesmerized. Nobody makes a sound except the cat in the tree and the neighbor in the next yard, too afraid of interrupting my calculations. Carefully, I position my hand, lining up the stone with the tree and muttering to myself about angles and carrying the one.

Then I shoot. The pebble sails through a pair of branches and over the white picket fence, beaning the neighbor on the head.

“Ow!” he shouts. “Who threw that?” He forgets about his lawnmower and glares at me.

I hold out my hand. “I need to borrow your phone. It’s an emergency!” I left mine at home. Plus bothering this guy is more fun.

He eyes the film crew suspiciously. He doesn’t seem to notice the man in full superhero garb standing next to me. Maybe he doesn’t realize it’s a TV show about the real thing. Finally, he says, “I’ll call you back,” and hangs up, then grudgingly tosses the phone to me.

I catch it in both hands and dial a couple of numbers before going, “Oh, oops, that’s not how you work this thing…” I bare my teeth at it and keep pressing buttons. I hear everyone around me groan, except the Crimson Flash, who stands patiently beside me. Finally I finish dialing. Before the phone stops ringing, I hold it up to my ear and start talking into it, as if there was another person on the line. “I’ve got an emergency here. You’re going to need to send a truck out right away.”

Mom answers the phone. “Hello?”

“Er, hold on…”

“Damien? Is that you?”

I cover the receiver end with my hand and turn to the Crimson Flash. “What’s the address here?”

He scrunches his eyebrows together in distrust. “Who are you calling?”

“Just the fire department. Do you know the address or not?”

“The fire department?! Kid, you can’t…” He takes a deep breath, all flustered, and grabs the phone from me.

“Hello?” he says. “This is the Crimson Flash. I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. We don’t need any—” All the blood suddenly drains from his face. He swallows.

Damn. I shut my eyes, hoping this isn’t happening, but when I open them again, he still has the same reaction, which is more revealing than a DNA test. He stares at me, his expression completely blank. His hand goes limp and the phone slips and lands in the grass. I can hear my mother’s voice.

“That boy! I can’t believe he told you. I don’t know how he knew. I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t put him up to it, believe me—”

I reach down and hang up, then toss the phone back to the neighbor across the fence. The Crimson Flash probably would have kept his word about giving me the DNA sample, but I don’t want promises, I want results.

“You okay, boss?” the camera man asks.

“Let’s take a break,” the Crimson Flash says. The camera crew shuffles off, groaning, but he paces in front of the fence, his head in his hands.

When no one’s watching, I take out a portable laser from the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. It’s not the kind of laser jerks use to point at the screen with in the movie theater. It’s the kind of laser you carry around so you can make jokes like, “I have my mother’s eyes.” Well, if you’re me. (And then people glare at you like it’s not even a little bit hilarious.) I point it at the tree and tap the button. There’s a quick joop sound as the laser slices through the branch, then a yowl as kitten and branch hurtle through the air. I reach out and grab the kitten before it can hit the ground.

I turn and grin at the Crimson Flash. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You can keep the hair sample.

Fellow Tenner Christina Diaz Gonzalez, brilliant author of The Red Umbrella and my release-date-sistah, has challenged me to post a list of ten things that make me happy. So here goes!

Ten Things That Make Me Happy

1. Finishing a novel – I’ll admit I’ve got finishing on my mind as I’m mired down in the middle of two novels and haven’t finished anything in a while, but nothing beats that feeling of getting to the end of a project. It’s not just the feeling of accomplishment, but also of opportunity and potential. When I finish a book, I’m free to dream about what great things might happen to it, before the rejections and reality start rolling in. Anything could happen. It’s an awesome feeling.

2. Word flow – I can’t finish a novel every day, but meeting my daily writing goals without wanting to bang my head against the wall is the next best thing. Even better is when the words just flow and I can’t wait to write scene after scene and get frustrated when I need to stop to do stupid things, like eat or sleep.

3. Reading a foreign language – Reading foreign words and knowing what they mean will NEVER cease to amaze me. Sometimes I still can’t believe I majored in a language. Not that I’m fluent or anything, but my reading levels in Latin and French ain’t bad, and it’s enough to keep me happy. Reading Latin is still as thrilling today as it was the first day I was introduced to it and learned you could have a whole sentence with just a word. (No, like, seriously, how cool is that? Your first day of Latin, and you can say whole thoughts. Simple ones, but still. AMAZING.)

4. Taking a walk on a nice spring day – I don’t think this one needs much explanation. It just feels good.

5. Knitting – Not to say that knitting comes after taking walks, because they aren’t exactly comparable (and sometimes I walk to the knitting store, you know?). It’s a creative pastime, but one where I don’t have to think too hard. I can follow a pattern and watch TV like a mindless drone, and yet at the same time I’m making something. (I love making things, but sometimes after putting so much effort into novels, it’s nice to just follow someone else’s pattern and not have to do too much thinking.)

6. Watching shows – Again, after spending so much time working on my own stories, it’s very relaxing to get to sit back and just watch other people’s stories unfold. I love the feeling of finishing an episode of something and wanting nothing more than to click next and watch another one. Pure bliss.

7. A happy dog licking my face – I get the feeling most people don’t like this. And I’m not saying all dogs, because some dogs are all slobbery and gross, but SOME dogs I’ve met are not too slimy and are very enthusiastic about showing their love through licking my face. And I’m okay with that.

8. A cat kneading me – Preferably through a layer or two of blankets to avoid getting clawed, but otherwise great.

9. Unexpected days off – This doesn’t happen so much as a full time writer (and any interruption in my work schedule is annoying), but when I had a day job or was in school? Getting out a few hours early or waking up to a snow day was HEAVEN.

10. Books that won’t let me put them down – When I was younger, I had immense patience for books. I would read very long books that today would bore the hell out of me, and I loved them. Nowadays, though, I don’t read as much or as quickly and my patience for slow or boring books is very low. But when a book really grabs me and I can’t put it down and HAVE to know what happens next the whole way through, it makes me feel like I used to when I was a kid, devouring any and all books I could get my hands on.

Cross-posted from the Tenners LJ:

Okay, so for the past couple weeks I’ve been talking about Sekrit Good News I couldn’t share, but now the wait is over. I tweeted the basics, but here’s the detailed version of the story.

A couple weeks ago, before the holiday break, my phone rang. It was Hollywood calling, natch. I almost didn’t answer it, because it was noon and I maybe, uh, keep weird hours and wasn’t really awake. If it had been anything but a 212 number, I wouldn’t have answered.

It was my agent. She told me she had good news for me. I was thinking it couldn’t be anything big. Then she said so-and-so had called and I immediately interrupted because I didn’t recognize the name and was like, “WHOZAT??” She said the film agent. THE FILM AGENT had called her with good news for me, so then I was all, “Ohhh… Go on.”

Apparently this had been going on for a while already, but she very wisely didn’t want to bring me into it until it was real. She told me Disney was going to make me an offer to option the film rights by the end of the day. I told her if I dropped the phone, it was because my hands were shaking. O__o

Then she told me they had writers attached, and she told me who they were, and that part I believe is still secret, but let me tell you I SQUEEEEEED. (Actually, here might have been where I told her if I dropped the phone, it was because my hands were shaking. It was true, but to my credit I did not drop the phone.) I will tell you I was recently rewatching a TV show they’re involved in and thinking to myself how much I’d been influenced by the earlier seasons and how much I loved the show and how awesome it was. How BIZARRE is it that possibly at the same time I was thinking those things, they were liking my book? The universe was on crazy sauce, I tell you.

The deal is with Disney Original Movies, the same people who made High School Musical and Camp Rock. So right now if they make it, they’re intending for it to be a made for TV movie ON FREAKING DISNEY CHANNEL. (Have I mentioned that my parents only watch Disney Channel? I mean, like, before this deal happened. I don’t think my dad has slept in weeks, he is so excited.)

Now I can’t stop thinking how cool it would be if the movie made from my novel launched the career of the next Zac Efron or something.

At first the reality of all this hit me like a ton of bricks and I was super STRESSED out. Like, totally freaked. You’d think only really awful bad news would have that affect, but IT TURNS OUT that crazy good news, almost-too-cool-to-be-real-but-is-real-anyway can do that to you, too. Now you know. I’ve had a couple weeks to calm down (and get back to work on the new WIP–writers know what I mean when I say it’s annoying to not get anything done on the WIP, even if you can’t work because you have something good going on (or at least I hope other people feel that way, so I don’t sound like a Scrooge)), so now I’ve calmed down and it just feels very surreal, more like it’s happening in a story than like it’s happening TO ME.

But OMG. The news will be appearing in Publisher’s Lunch, and I will of course keep everyone updated as I get new secrets and the go aheads to spill them.

So 2009 was a pretty good year. I got a good agent, sold a novel, and made tons of new friends. A year ago I wasn’t sure if The Rise of Renegade X would ever find a publisher, and since then I’ve held it in my hands as a real book. Crazy sauce!

In the last year I also:

Discovered the Vampire Academy books by Richelle Mead, and now I’m not sure how I ever got by without them.

Watched all of Arrested Development, The Office, and Community (I may have watched all the episodes of Community three times now…) and ABSOLUTELY LOVED all three, so don’t bother telling me The Office is stressful or that Arrested Development got canceled for a reason, because I’m not listening.

Became brave enough to take pictures of the books in the store. I used to be terrified of this and thought it was illegal somehow or that I’d get in trouble, but now I just flash my “Official YA Author” badge and everyone leaves me alone. (Lies.)

Finished reading 45 books, which once would have been a low number for me but now is sort of large.

And that brings me to 2010, which is going to be a big year for obvious reasons. My book’s coming out and I’m going to BEA and probably lots of other stuff will happen, too. I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions, because I tend to fail at them, but I’ll at least admit I have goals for 2010.

I want to read 100 books this year.

I didn’t finish writing any books in 2009–that needs to not still be true this time next year, or I will go crazy. I’d like to finish at least two books, and since I’m in the middle of two right now, finishing them would do nicely. Ideally I’d like to finish them up in the next couple months, then take some time off and write another one in the second half of the year. (But even just finishing one will send me into fits of ecstaticness and relief.)

I’m going to at least try using my drop spindle, even if it’s terrifying. (It’s not really *that* terrifying, it’s just a wheel on a stick, but I have a feeling there will be a lot of failure involved before succeeding, and also the magic of turning wool into yarn with just a little wheel on a stick seems too good to be true, even though I saw someone do it.)

I’m going to finish up the knitting/crochet projects I’ve been working on for other people.

And I think that’s it! Sounds doable, right?

It’s Agent Appreciation Day across the internet, and let me tell you, I sure appreciate my agent, Holly Root.

You see, I used to have a not-so-good agent. One who didn’t talk to me and ignored my e-mails and couldn’t get the names of my books straight. I thought good, wonderful, OMG-perfect-for-me agents were for other people who were living the dream. So when Holly and I found each other, I was a little like my friend’s ex-stray dog who thinks eating garbage is a way of life. (Okay, I wasn’t that bad…)

Holly’s awesome. She answers my e-mails, and with real answers about what’s going on with my books. I’m not afraid to e-mail or call her any time, and she always sounds glad to hear from me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been having a long, wonderful conversation with her on the phone, laughing together or speculating on the future, but expecting to get rushed off any minute now or grumped at for taking up so much of her time. But I think all my agent mates will agree that that would be so not Holly! She’s always there to talk to me, and it’s never a chore or a waste of her time.

There are a lot of ups and downs in publishing, but Holly makes them all sound like ups. She can put a positive spin on anything and always makes me feel like I rock and am just teetering on the verge of world domination. (She knows me so well, lol!) She *gets* my books, my voice, and my sense of humor, which are all very important to me. I know she’s always got my back if trouble comes up, or even if I just imagine that troubles coming up. Now that I’m working on a new project, I’m getting to see that Holly is there for me every step of the way, from going over book ideas, and updated book ideas, to reading first pages.

A good agent has such a huge role in making a good book a publishing reality, I can’t even tell you. I knew they did more than just make deals, negotiate contracts, and count their money, but I had no idea how important they were every tiny step of the way. Whether it’s helping me figure out my next project, hooking me up with wonderful editors, negotiating contracts, answering my questions about publishing, life, the universe, and everything, squeeing over my book cover with me (yes, I did call her to squee), delivering bad news and making it sound like the best thing that ever happened to me, or just updating me on what’s going on with my books–I honestly don’t know how I’d do it without her.

So, in honor of Holly, I have ripped off composed this short poem:

Agents are sharks,
authors are blue,
book deals are sweet,
and so are you.

Thank you, Holly, and all the other wonderful agents out there who are there for their authors every day. YOU rock, and I’m pretty sure you’re the one teetering on the edge of world domination.

If you’ve been following my crochet adventures over the last month (and you have, haven’t you?), you’ll know I was crocheting a bunch of kittens. Jen Nadol of the Tenners is hosting monthly giveaways for non-traditional swag for Tenner books. (The Debs did this for 2009, so if you’re familiar with that, that’s what this is.) Anyway, you’d think thinking up superhero/villain swag would be ridiculously easy, but not so! I really wanted to participate in this contest, but I had a lot of trouble figuring out what to do.

Eventually I thought of the “rescuing a kitten from a tree” scene in the book and decided to crochet 12 Kittens Stuck in a Tree (Tree Not Included). And here they are:

From Drop Box

These guys were sitting on my floor, STARING at me all month! (Staring at me while I made more of them… creepy, no?)

Some may have turned out cuter than others, but heroes have to learn to save all kittens, regardless of their cuteness.