The Past: Or, Why I Have So Many Issues

Today I have been going through boxes upon boxes of what I've always referred to as memorabilia but is, in actual fact, better referred to as accumulated random stuff.  And "random stuff" could probably be replaced with a word that would make this post PG, or one that would make it PG-13.  Anyway, it is a long, arduous process and now this stuff is scattered about my office floor, which I hate.  So I must take a break to clear my mind from the clutter-demons that haunt me, along with the ghosts of the past. It all started last month when I was searching for a picture from this very past of which I speak.  The sheer number of possibilities as to where this picture might be led to the decision to consolidate "memorabilia."  Plus, I wanted to find some of my childhood writing samples to share when I visit schools.  Hence, today's project.

Items I've unearthed so far:

--A mint-condition Madame Alexander doll circa 1992.  I call her my "retirement doll" because I've never even taken her out of the box, to preserve value.  I estimate that if I retire in approximately 85 years the doll should provide me enough income for a taxi ride to stand in line for government cheese.

--The Rowland Hall-St. Mark's Lower School Student-Parent Handbook for the 1990-1991 school year.  No, I never attended this school.  Yes, I dreamed of it.  Enough, apparently, to request a student manual and then keep it for nigh unto twenty years.

--A program for the Salon Selectives Back to School Style Fashion Event.  Unfortunately,  exactly which back to school year this fashion event took place is unstated.  I'm guessing about 1993, thanks to descriptions like these:

ACTIVE WEAR

Enuf eggplant pull-on short, Enuf puff logo T

DENIM AND WHITE

Zena over-dyed jeans, white spandex bodysuit

CLASSIC BACK TO SCHOOL

Violet plaid short, white shirt with plaid details, crocheted beret

THE GYPSY LOOK

Tiered chiffon skirt, velvet bolero

and, of course:

HOMECOMING PREVIEW

Red stretch lace cold shoulder dress

I should mention that most of the stores sponsoring the Fashion Event no longer exist, which of course is also the sad fate of "Like you just stepped out of a (Salon)" Selectives.  RIP.

Through all of this "memorabilia", all of this hopeless dreaming for schools I would never attend, clothes I would never wear and a retirement that makes even today's 401 k look promising, one thing has emerged:  a constant love for writing.  A passion so consistent and deep it would get me through anything.

So here it is, and here I am, working away at a dream that's seen me through everything.  And in just a few weeks I will be able to celebrate as a Utah Book Award finalist at the Utah Literary Awards Ceremony where THE WAY HE LIVED will go tete-a-tete with the phenomenal SWEETHEARTS by the equally phenomenal Sara Zarr.

It will be held at the Salt Lake City Public Library on October 22 at 7:00.  If you'd like to attend such an event (with your respective TEAM SARA or TEAM EMILY t-shirt, of course) you are all invited!  Since we're trying to get a head count, let me know (via email, the comment section, whatev) if you're interested.

P.S The t-shirt is not  required.  Wearing a top of some sort, however, would be appreciated.

Fashionable, Girly And An Awesome Friend

Those of you who know me know I love a bargain.  In fact, some have even asked me to share my most humorous money-saving strategies/stories here.   And I will.  But after I tell everyone about my latest find:  a year's worth (that's THIRTEEN issues) of Seventeen magazine for only ten bucks! I kid you not.  For less than a dollar a month, you can keep up-to-date with the life of Selena Gomez,  steal Beyonce's look, AND pick the perfect snack.  Also, if you're like me, the bill will be addressed to your parents (because, you know, what adult would want a subscription to Seventeen?).  Maybe unlike me, you will tell your parents to foot the bill, making the cost to you a whopping zero dollars!  Now that's a deal.

Now the October issue is here, because that's how magazines work: reading them makes living in the current month null and void.  Which is cool, because according to Seventeen, my birthday is right around the corner.  Wahoo!  Again according to the source, as a Libra girl I am fashionable, girly, and an awesome friend.

Proof positive:

FASHIONABLE

Over the weekend I was a panelist at an SCBWI Southern Idaho conference  and met TONS of cool people.  Most of them lived in southern Idaho, and you might be tempted to think they were the ones who displayed a lacking in the fashion department.  Do not be fooled by stereotypes, my wise friends.

In this picture I'm standing next to Brian Farrey, the publicist-turned-editor at my publisher, flux!  As you can see, Brian has no problemo showing off his classy flux tee (he refused to give me one, btw.  If you, too think this is an outrage, I'm sure Brian would appreciate hearing from you).  Please note coordinating sports coat.

With friends like these, how can I NOT be fashionable?

GIRLY

Okay, so I couldn't figure out how to rotate this photo, but that's girly, right?  To be incompetent?  What?  No it isn't because that's a stereotype?  I fail at being girly.

Proof positive:

I had no idea why this woman was walking down the streets of downtown Boise holding an inflatable objet d'art until her friend yelled "She's getting married tomorrow!"  To which I said, "Congratulations.  Why is she carrying an inflatable objet d'art down the streets of downtown Boise?"  Then, others had to point out to me that this was actually not an objet d'art, but  instead a blow-up man (which I still find hard to believe, frankly, especially upon viewing the picture a second time).  Also what had to be pointed out to me:  why someone would carry  a blow-up man down the streets of downtown Boise simply because she is getting married the next day (frankly, still a mystery).

Which brings me to:

AN AWESOME FRIEND

To some, my complete lack of savvy is endearing, or at the very least, amusing.  To those people I say, I hope I am an awesome friend.  Otherwise, I don't think I make an awesome friend--I just happen to make awesome friends.

Proof positive:

Friends old and new:  Sydney Salter, Valynne, Neysa Jensen, and David Ward. Not pictured are a bunch of other peeps I'm honored to call my peeps!

Ah, astrology.  About me you are never wrong.

P.S Shout-out to Brodi, who unlike me is celebrating a birthday in the REAL month this Friday.

A Post I Wrote On Friday

I'm sitting here at the Salt Lake City public library, or, as I have come to know it over these past months, my second home.  Seriously, today is the third time I've been here this week. Technically, this isn't my library.  There are others closer to my house.  But the creepy thing about the library closest to my house?  It’s the same library I went to as a teen.  Even more pathetic, the YA section is still basically the same as it was ten years ago.  Sweet Valley High, anyone?  Anyone?

I just finished a scene for the revision of my new novel (coming out from the lovely and mega-talented Julie-Strauss Gabel of Dutton Childrens Books.)  Now I'm spent, though, and it’s… hmm, 11:28 a.m.  Which does not exactly bode well for my productivity the rest of the day.  Luckily, who am I sitting next to but BFF Sara Zarr, who suggested I write a blog post with my newfound free time. Brilliant! But then, what else would you expect from her?

Now, I try to keep the bragging on this blog down to a minimum, really I do.  Yes, I'm friends with Sara Zarr, but is it really polite to continually make reference to it?  No, it is not, but today I will anyway because Sara gave me one of her author copies of Once Was Lost this morning! And it is beautiful. The cover is that great matte-with spot-gloss combo and I dig the whole color scheme.   Plus, Sara’s shirt matches her cover!  I’d love to post a photo of the two of them together, but alas, no camera.  And I refuse to jump into 2005 and get a camera phone, mainly because I tend to break things or otherwise maim them.

DANG IT!  This was supposed to be a picture of SARA!  From my picture archives, of which there are many of Sara, one that was perfect for this post!  Instead there's a picture of  me serenading a stuffed giraffe.  I look like an idiot.  Why do I even have this picture?  Blah.  This is not my day.  (Author's Note:  The day that is not my day is today, Tuesday.  Friday was a perfectly lovely day).

Speaking of both my famous friends and my uncanny ability to maim (particularly myself), I am honored to be directly mentioned in three of Bree Despain’s highlights from the SCBWI LA conference. Go read about it, because I'll never get around to typing the whole story and it's actually pretty funny.  FYI, This post is not typewritten, because after a brief and very sad period in which my ink cartridge ran out, Wonder-Pen is back! And better than ever!

Anyway, I am pleased, proud, and still a little shocked to say that my friend Bree is going to be the Next Big Thing in YA literature.  I'm not shocked that Bree’s debut, The Dark Divine, is already getting so much buzz--Bree’s a fantastic writer who can plot like no other.  But I'm still in awe that I've known her since the beginning, back when we were both just punk kids eating Cup o' Noodles at BYU.  Yay, Bree!

(Author's Note:  This is where I was going to insert a picture of Bree, but after the last fiasco I'm just not feeling it.  So adieu).

Why You Must Never, Never Speak Ill Of The Prom

Remember in my last post when I mentioned that the Blue Moon Ball might possibly have been more fun than the prom? Well, the universe found out and had to immediately correct itself, because not even a day passed before this review for THE WAY HE LIVED was brought to my attention.

Okay.  So a New-York-based book blogger reviewed my book, which is great.  I love book bloggers, which many of my book-blogger friends already know.  She liked the book, and from her review seemed to really get the book, which is always heartening.   Her name is Sabrina Banes, and she's a former journalist who now writes YA lit.

But the part that kind of blew my mind?  Her boyfriend, Adam, was my Junior Prom date.

I asked Daniel if he thought it odd that Adam once went to the prom with an aspiring YA author and is now in a relationship with an aspiring YA author.

Daniel did not think so.  To him, I suppose, being a YA author seems a common aspiration.  But to me it does not.  Neither does it to my peeps The Clique.   They demanded to see photographs, perhaps doubting that I indeed had a date to my Junior Prom.  Not that I blame them.  The whole thing does sound just a little too coincidental.

I looked for evidence.  I had a photo.  I distinctly remember getting it taken, beneath a cheesy trellis-type thing inside the prom venue (which was the showroom of a car dealership.  Classy).   You didn't get a choice about this--at our high school,  custom mandated you stand in line for hours to get your picture taken under insanely hot, urine-colored lighting.  Everybody got a page of wallet-sized photos, which you collected from your friends like baseball cards.

However, those of you who knew me in high school know I was tremendously popular, and I must have given away all of my official pictures.  The best I could come up with was this:

Yes, Sara, I know.  Try to ignore the Utah-hair and instead focus on the 100% Utah-dress.  Ah, memories.

Other prom memories that resurfaced with the picture-hunt:

~ I drove.  Adam didn't know how to drive.  In fact, he probably still doesn't, if he lives in New York.   And I of course don't know how to drive, either.  So it was a grand time!  But I jest, because what happened actually wasn't even a little bit my fault.  I parked in the parking lot, where I was supposed to.  But like I said, we had our prom at a car dealership, and there wasn't sufficient parking for 1,200 couples.  So someone parked directly behind me (and of course, someone parked directly in front of me, too.  But that was a legal parking space, so they're cool).   I backed out in like a seventy-five-point turn.

~ We had dinner at the Olive Garden.  Adam ordered root beer, which came in a fancy bottle, and he called it the "Beverage of Kings."  The two ladies at the next table were drunk, and they laughed at us.  Not because of the Beverage of Kings comment.  Or maybe so.  But more likely because of my hair/dress.

Oh, and I almost forgot the most important memory (not that any of these memories are important; however, this one is relevant).

~ For our Day Activity, or pre-date date (again,  customary) we went to an art museum.  Well, art "museum."  In fact, "art" "museum."  It was a community art center, identical to the one Lissa visits in THE WAY HE LIVED.  We walked through this high school art exhibit (sound familiar?  If it doesn't, read my book.  Seriously, I can't believe you've even waited this long).  The painting we passed of Beauty and the Beast was untitled, and Adam said, "Well, it's Sleeping Beauty, obviously."  Or words to that effect.  So thank you, Adam Parrish, for contributing that line of dialogue.

Just to clarify, that is the only part of the story where the real Adam and the character Adam say/do the same thing.  Unless you count taking the bus.  Or, I guess, wearing gray sweats.

But this post is  supposed to be about the prom, not whether or not wearing clothes counts as actively doing something, so let me end by saying this:  Blue Moon Ball, you had a good run.  But what could rock as hard as prom night at Tony Russo Chevrolet?

Boogie Nights At The Blue Moon Ball

Because once is just never enough, I am again posting about my trip to LA.  Besides, in this post we are all just so dang good-looking, who wouldn't want to check it out?  We look hott (double-t courtesy of Brodi's husband Sam, who taught me that this is what the cool kids are saying.  If you don't know Sam, he is nothing if not cool).

Anyway, on the night of the much-fanfared "Blue Moon Ball" many inappropriate adventures took place.  Many of them were not my fault.  Not to name names, but  most of them were Brodi's fault.

Brodi teased me with the promise of putting my hair in a chignon (SHEEN-yon) for the event, then reneged, claiming she had no idea how to do such a thing.  Well, neither did any of us, so Brodi was chosen to fake it.  And look how awesome she did!  So despite the inappropriate nature of going back on a promise to a friend, she was redeemed.

However, she then proceeded to dress for the ball.  I watched in horror as she pulled on a pair of shorts.  The horror did not come from seeing her change clothes, because that's the way I roll.  I'm inappropriate, and immodesty is no big deal to people like us.   No, the horror came because SHE WAS ACTUALLY PLANNING TO WEAR BLACK BERMUDA SHORTS TO THE  BALL!

Admittedly, I know very little about these sort of soirees.  Admittedly, Brodi did wear pants to her senior prom. But even I know black Bermuda shorts are not acceptable attire when your companions are wearing dresses.  Can you say "inappropriate?"  And NOT the good kind.  In the above picture, Brodi is wearing a black skirt she borrowed from me, a blue camisole she borrowed from me (she actually wasn't going to wear blue to the Blue Moon Ball.  Tsk, tsk), and a necklace borrowed from Bree.  Doesn't she look fahbulous?  Also above is our friend and regional SCBWI advisor Sydney Salter (shout-out!).

Here are a few more Kodak moments (is that even an expression anymore?):

With buddy and fellow Utah writer Matt Kirby (note the "moon" in the background).

Me with Varian, aka "Magic", Johnson.  Don't we look like we're going to prom?  Oh, and also that the year is 1978?

Anyway, besides the fact that his physique is similar to that of Magic Johnson, and the obvious racial thing, Varian is magic because:

a) he knows everybody!  And he remembers everybody!  Namely me, who he only met once, at a late-night party a long time ago.  That gave him permission to at least forget my name.  But he did not.

b) like me, he got his start publishing with Flux!

c) his forthcoming book SAVING MADDIE (Delacorte, March 2010) is amazing!  And the cover is gorgeous!

This is not multiple-choice, people!  "Magic" is all of the above!

And of course, the lovely and talented Lindsey Leavitt, who is actually such a star I'm technically not even allowed to be her friend!

There is a distinct possibility that this was more fun than any prom I've been to, Bermuda shorts or no.

Inappropriate

For those of you who don't know (and why would you?), when my book THE WAY HE LIVED debuted, a random blogger/book reviewer deemed its subject matter "inappropriate."   I say random book reviewer because I no longer even remember who it was, it was of such little consequence.  But still, inappropriate?  That hurts.

Or at least it did, until my friends shared their stories of woe.  Brodi's book, with its kick-A heroine and alien attacks, was called both vulgar and violent--by family members, no less (I'm sure they meant it in a good way).  And Bree's upcoming THE DARK DIVINE (Egmont, December of this year!) was called blasphemous by a fellow writer (not me--I swear!)  (I swear all the time.  That's why I, too, am blasphemous.  And inappropriate.  *&%#).

Anyway, we decided that we'd print up shirts and own up to our stigmas, loud and proud.  So we did, and wore them to the SCBWI LA conference.

Little did I know that keynote speaker Sherman Alexie, when given one word in which to encapsulate his very being, chose "inappropriate"!

Imagine me with a speech bubble:  "Being inappropriate sure isn't  lonely anymore!"

The conference was one memorable, inappropriate event after another. I helped Brodi procure antibiotics for her crazy-painful ear infection, attempting to use my own insurance at one point.  Note:  This is illegal.  Also, if you plan to do something illegal, do not announce it to the guy at Walgreens and then ask him to take your picture.

I met Little, Brown editor Jennifer Hunt and asked her if she was giving away any ARCs of  BFF Sara Zarr's ONCE WAS LOST, and if I could somehow rig it so I got one.   She said yes, that I could go buy one in October like everybody else, fool!  J/k, though, because although that's the response I deserved, she instead was much nicer to me.  If it's the last thing I do, I WILL procure an ARC of that book!  (Procure seems to be a theme in this inappropriate post.  hmm).

Me with Jennifer Hunt.  She's even better-looking in person!  Would it be inappropriate for me to email and ask her if she ever made a "How to be Hot" list?  If so, I'll wear this shirt while writing it.

More updates in my next post on Monday!  Have a great weekend!

In Which I Am Yet Again Mistaken For Someone Cool

I'm leaving for LA early tomorrow morning. I'm talking earlier-than-I've-been-up-since-my-stint-teaching-high-school-debate early. But since the conference itself starts tomorrow morning, leaving early is a must. In preparing for this trip, I couldn't help but remember the last time I went to a national SCBWI conference which was, by and large, a fiasco. The year was 2006. I was going to the SCBWI New York conference with Carries Jones. This was prior to Carrie becoming the world-renowned author she is today. In fact, it Was during this conference that she received the call that started everything. Although she wasn't at the conference at the time. But I'm getting ahead of myself. In February 2006, Carrie and I were Vermont College students who planned to be NYC SCBWI roomies (technically, she was rooming with her husband, while I'd be rooming next door, with her daughter).

I made the rookie mistake of flying into JFK, and then of prepaying for a super-shuttle, where I sat next to some old guy from "So-Cal" who obviously thought he was a Big Deal. As the shuttle waded through traffic thick as water, I kept daring myself to ask this guy why, if he was Mr. swank, he was riding in a super-shuttle.

I never did.

Once I arrived at the hotel and was checking in, I found out that because of a family emergency, Carrie et. al would not be coming to the conference (fear not; Carrie's family was fine after some TLC). This left me on my own, which was cool, except I hadn't planned to be on my own. I took the elevator up to my room, catching sight of my stringy-haired, red-eyed, all-together-rumpled appearance in the highly-polished doors. I stood next to women wearing SCBWI nametags, smiled at them, and pressed the button for my floor. They just stared.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," one said, still staring.

"I'm exhausted," I offered by way of pleasantries. "You?"

The other one nodded. "You'd better rest up," she said. "Aren't you presenting tomorrow?"

"Um, no, "I said. "I'm just, you know, attending."

The next day, as I wandered through the hotel ballroom searching for someone I knew, a woman I did not know ran up and hugged me. "Emily!" she said. "So nice to finally meet you!" She spoke rapidly and without pause, while I struggled to figure out who she was. Finally she said: "Wait. I don't think you're the Emily I'm looking for."

"No," I said apologetically. "I don't think so."

Apparently I look similar to another, higher-up Emily, who I was mistaken for the duration of the conference.

It would have been better if Carrie were there.

Will anyone reading this be in attendance? Let me know!

I didn't take any photos at the conference, but here's me at American Girl Place, which I toured at my leisure since I had no hommies along to cramp my style. I'm standing next to Samantha, my favorite (now retired) American Girl. Aren't we cute?

Oh, Samantha, what could have been had I the riches to afford you and your swank Victorian accessories...

A Glimpse Into My Personal Style

I decided to write this blog post with Wonder-Pen, to see how well it translates into WordPress. So far, it's worked really well in Microsoft Word... it just capitalizes k's and w's in the middle of my sentences. I'm working on making my lowercase w's more loopy, and we'll see how that goes. I have no idea how to fix my k's--I guess I'll simply have to stop using them. Thank you all for the comments on my last post. I promise it Was not just a desperate plea for compliments. But hey, I won't turn them down. You see, I place my self worth in the hands of others. Very healthy.

For anyone wondering about my second reason for becoming hot, this is it. Recently I've developed interest in working as a "background actor" (i.e "extra") in a television show. Don't ask me why. Anyway, this dream seemed likely to go unfulfilled, until the other day, when it occurred to me that I'd soon be in Los Angeles, where stars are born!

In a couple of weeks, I'm going to the SCBWI LA conference, an annual event for Writers to hear famous authors speak, meet agents and editors, and most importantly, mingle with each other. When exactly I'd have time to be an extra during this jam-packed event is beside the point.

I found out that the only show (auditioning extras) filming anywhere close to my hotel was the ABC Family series Greek. I've never actually seen this program, but judging from the posting I read, it appears to be an in-depth look at the often misunderstood World of college sororities and fraternities.

To be an extra on Greek one must be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four (which technically already put me out of the running, but since I'm mistaken for a teen all the time I was willing to keep reading).  Also, one must be hot.  I am not substituting my own word here, it read: ''Between 18-24, hot," on the notice.  Also, to audition, you needed to show up to get your picture taken wearing "hot, trendy clothes."  Again with the hot!

By now I realized that even if I was to become hot and acquire a hot wardrobe by August 7, there was no way I could devote the time to this endeavor that it so obviously required. I mean, I could, but then I'd miss the conference. And if, by chance, anyone missed me, and  asked my friends, "Hey, where's that one girl in your clique?,"  I'd have to put my peeps in the awkward position of saying:  "She's trying to become hot enough to stand in the background of a make-believe frat party."

And friends don't make friends say that. Ever.

Me, in my idea of hot, trendy clothes.

Hot

Advance word of warning:  The computer has once again gotten into the setting where I can only see thumbnails of the photos, really small ones.  I can't guarantee that all the photos I post will actually be the ones I want to post, but hey, it's all part of the adventure, eh?

This picture is in fact the one I wanted to post.  It's The Clique, aka my writing/critique group, on our first-annual-with-potential-to-become-semi-annual Retreat to Brodi Ashton's Bomb Condo in Midway.  Thank you, Brodi!   You are the hostess with the mostest!  Follow up:  If anyone clicks on Brodi's link and reads about the things she learned at our retreat, please know that I didn't incessantly talk about nipples.  Only two or three times.  And always with good reason.   Also, what's wrong with making a to-do list of How to Become Hot?

Here are some photos my friends took during  my first stab at becoming hot:

Okay.  I just realized these are not the best pictures to post at a time when I can't preview them first.  Picture #1 is pretty good though, right?  But if you've never met me, picture #2 is more what I look like on a daily basis.  Thanks to Bree Despain, who curled my hair and did her best to help me smile "normal," and Valynne for doing my make-up and saying:  "Never do that again," when I tried to smile without any teeth showing.

Why the obsession with becoming hot?

I have decided that the better looking you are, the better you are treated.  This is probably obvious to most people, but I am so far from being like most people, this didn't even occur to me until recently.  See, the other day I FINALLY got new contacts after almost a year of wearing only glasses.  My last doctor prescribed soft lenses (I've always worn hard in the past) and they were fine, except they'd rotate everytime I blinked, and when they rotated I couldn't see.  I tried to stop blinking, but that was a no-go, as I am not superhuman.  So anyway, this new doctor prescribed me soft lenses that don't rotate in my eye, producing the desired outcome:  sight.  Even when I blinked.   Alas, my bad hand can't help me open my eyes wide enough to put in soft contacts, so after all of this, I'm going back to hard ones.

But I digress.  My point is, whenever I was wearing my contacts, people were nice.  The construction men building houses in my neighborhood waved at me.  People said hi to me at Target, even if they didn't know me, or weren't kids, who don't count because they always say hi.  Random strangers smiled at me, like we were tight.

The next day bad hand was super-shakes, so I couldn't put in my right contact and had to wear glasses.  Fewer people smiled at me.  No random people said hi.  When I drove past the construction workers, they just scowled at me (reason for that is still unknown).

Anyway, I decided that by becoming hot, I will slowly become friends with all the people of North America, one person at a time.  Then, by the time my next book comes out in January 2011 (mark your calendars!) everyone will be my friend and thus buy my book.   So really, this is a marketing campaign.

There is a second reason but this post is already too long so I'll have to mention it some other time.

Wonder Pen

On Monday, when I promised to blog more regularly, it was because I knew that very soon, I'd be spending a lot less time typing and a lot more time writing with this new pen, leaving me time for two posts a week, no problem.What exactly is so amazing about this pen?  What isn't amazing about this pen!  I simplt turn it on (yes, you can turn the pen on, and it even has a small screen on the side.  Seriously, check it out.  You turn it on, start writing on this special paper (which looks just like regular lined paper except for the teeny-tiny dots on it), and then later, you can hook the pen up to your computer.  Then the pen will show everything you've written with the pen on your computer screen!  Then, it will convert what you've written into typeface!

I've had a chance to try this out after two mega-writing days this week, and I'm in awe.  The pen reads my writing easily, and converts it to Microsoft Word with little problem (sometimes it Captializes random Words for some Reason, but I can tortally live with that).

The whole thing is unbelievable, like learning that chocolate chip cookies are actually health food or something.