Monday, February 28, 2011

Better than a bear trap?

In the next few weeks, I'll be going to Alaska for a week. It's not a vacation, but a business trip, which might not sound all that exciting, but a business trip with scientists and researchers is rarely dull.

When we asked what we should pack for a trip to Alaska in March, we were given a single item and it wasn't one that any of us was expecting to hear.  I mean, if you're going to Alaska and there is ONE thing that's essential for your survival, I'm thinking reflective blanket, a bear trap or maybe a grappling hook. I wasn't expecting rubber boots.

How can rubber boots be the Most Essential Thing I will need? I was under the rather strong assumption that Alaska is not a swamp or even a wetland. It's not below sea level, right? But when we asked for any other packing guide, we were given a stoic shake of the head and, again, the words: rubber boots.

So, I'm thinking this is pretty serious and I do NOT want to get to Alaska without the crucial piece of my wardrobe, but searching rubber boots on Google is about as useful as searching for comfortable bras. It's just not helpful.

Do I go for the standard, reliable rubber boot?

Something more fun and artsy?

Something trendy?

Or something totally industrial and uninteresting?

I just don't know. And I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. Like this ->  O_O

It totally depends on what the purpose is. Are these for safety and comfort? Or is this a fashion thing to keep us from sticking out like the big Kansan thumbs?

Do you wear rubber boots? Any insight to share with me? I'm listening.

Also, and unrelatedly, you can check out a short story by moi on Tangled Fiction today.  Every forth week we're each posting single-authored shorts to change things up a bit. Today, mine is Butterfly Girl.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Hey There, Edward Norton

I don't have a lot of complicated dreams when I sleep. Aside from being Haunted by Zombies*, I don't usually remember my dreams and when I do, they're short. Snippet style dreams that usually point to stress (as in the case of being physically unable to press the brake pedal as I approach a red light) or fears of being in some way inadequate (as in the case of when I know I should be able to fly, but can't get off the ground).

So imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning this week with a dream still in my head that didn't involve zombies, malfunctioning cars OR my inability to fly! What did it involve?

Edward Norton. In my kitchen sink.

Not spilling out, mind you, but in it to his shoulders like it was the Mary Poppins bag of kitchen sinks. You might be wondering what he was doing there. Nothing much. The usual, really. Chillin' and chattin'. I asked him if the water was warm enough and he assured me it was perfect.

When I told this to a friend, he asked, "Was he naked?"

To which I responded, "Of course not. He wore a leather jacket." Because that's just what Edward Norton does when he's in my kitchen sink.

So that's that.

And in news not related to my kitchen sink, you might be interested to know that Valerie Kemp is having a contest over on her blogger blog for copies of Linger by Maggie Stiefvater , The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff, and Across the Universe by Beth Revis all of which come with signed book plates.

That's all I've got. Happy Thursday, everyone!

* I don't recommend you read that tale if you, too, are stricken by zombie terror or have an unreasonable fear of Keanu Reeves.

Friday, February 18, 2011

A disjointed post of seemingly random things

First of all, there is a spaceship in the office below me. A veritable 1950's style spaceship complete with it's own 1950's style ringtonemusic that has been looping for 15 solid minutes. It is driving me c.r.a.z.y.


At first, I thought it was somewhere in the bottom of my purse, but soon discovered that the sound is coming up through the vent in the floor and straight into my brain.

I need tinfoil. Obviously.

Or a lock pick. Or a hammer. I'd settle for a hammer. Anything to save me from Plan 9 From Outer-Space!


And in other, totally unrelated news, I have two things to share.  The first is that Tessa Gratton  is giving away a copy of BLOOD MAGIC along with a few other upcoming releases, THE DARK AND HOLLOW PLACES (for a dose of zombie love) and WITHER (for some sweet, dystopian sugar in your coffee). Go! Enter! Read! You can also watch her read the complete first chapter in character. You don't want to miss it.

The second is that I totally fail at fire building and now there is proof. But what didn't make it in to this video was the moment I breathed fire.


Aaaaaand the spaceship is still going. One of us will not survive this day . . .

Monday, February 7, 2011

Things that have to do with writing

I'm writing this from beneath a giant moose head. And by giant, I mean, a moose head of EPIC proportions. It grows out of the wall complete with it's own forest. Giant, GIANT moose head.

What does that have to do with writing? Well, more than you'd expect, I suppose. He's the ever-watchful guardian of 23 writers currently challenging the strength of the internet and power lines in Branson, Missouri. He sees EVERYTHING. He knows EVERYTHING. By which, I mean he tweets - @FreddytheMoose. Follow him for the bird's eye view of this little retreat in the snow.

And now for things that follow numbers!
  1. On Friday, as I was madly scrambling to get my house and bags in order, I wrote a complete short story for Tangled Fiction and actually posted. It's called "Water Sacrifice" and I'm quite pleased with it. Here's the snippet meant to entice you. . .
  2. I was twelve the day my papa took me to the clinic in Old Ogallala. He left me in the small waiting room where green light filtered through the spill of lettuce, tomato, and green bean plants in the sky gardens outside while he disappeared down a narrow hallway to speak with the nurse. The air was filled with buzzing and the distant sounds of a radio, but the waiting room was empty except for the girl sitting behind the desk. She held a book to her face and made no signs of having an interest in conversation. I picked a seat and waited staring at a sign that read, “No Water Kept on Premises!”  
  3. Every evening we are here, there is a selection of authors doing a LIVE SHOW hosted by Jackson Pearce. Join in tonight, when Carrie Ryan will be reading a teaser of The Dark and Hollow Places (which is a zombie book and in spite of this, I am not afraid of her). Live chat show time is 8pm EST. Go here to see the show:
  4. I'm really and truly horrible at foosball. I didn't know this had anything to do with writing, but it does.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Brother Adam

The distance between me and my siblings (not to mention my parents) is geographically challenging. There is an ocean between me and my sis and the better part of a continent separates me from my little brother, who came into my life when I was 17 and in the lands of LJ goes by adamposadas (and this is where I tell you if you aren't already reading him, you should, or you're missing out on gems like this). We are an adventurous bunch, that is for sure.

We spent the holidays of 2010 with my family in the depths of Mississippi. We didn't get everyone together, but we did manage to get Adam, who climbs things. No matter where we are, he climbs things. And I didn't realize this until we became adults with organized photo collections and had the experience of flipping through them and going, "Oh, look who's climbing that ___" wherein ____ stands in for castle, tree, statue, snow bank, telephone pole, thing that shouldn't be climbed up.

That might seem like a tangent, but it isn't. As a detail, it's remarkably central to his character. It used to make me nervous to turn around and find him missing and know that the most likely direction to look was up. But it doesn't anymore. Now, I'm more likely to point out the impossible climbing objects, because it's just plain fun to watch him work.

I have several Adam-related stories from the holidays. I'll get around to them, but really the whole trip really boiled down to this other picture, in which Adam tolerates his sisters.