This Would Be A Sweet April Fools. But It Isn't.

Ah,  American health care.   Truly, you are an admirable foe.  One of your many mysteries in the Flex Spending Account.  Supposedly at the beginning of the year we intuit how much money we will spend on health care the following year, and if we predict correctly, we get to use  it tax-free.  If we guess incorrectly, the money is gone.  You, my friend,  are like a Japanese game show. My Flex Spending Year was winding down, yet money remained.  A lot of money.  Which begged the question, which part of me to fix?  I made a list of what was wrong with me and then played MASH until one thing remained.  Which is how I ended up in physical therapy.

My first day of PT I filled out a  questionnaire and I swear, it's like they were reading my mind:

Do everyday activities make you dizzy?

Do you find yourself walking into walls, furniture, and and other large objects?

Have  others mistakenly thought you to be inebriated?

Amanda, my physical therapist, rocks.  Her assistant, Adam, not so much (ha!  That's just a joke in case any of the fine people at Performance West read this).  After a few visits, I realized I was bringing down the house with my mad skillz, yo.  Never before had I felt so coordinated.  Then I spied this brochure in the office:

If you'll note the couple in the above picture , then multiply it by 10, you'll get an idea of Amanda's clientele.

And me.  So the rock star.

In other rock-star-but-not-really news, I am featured in the latest issue of the ALAN Review, a journal for the Assembly on Adolescent Literature of the National Council for Teachers of English.  The article, titled "An Intersection of Meaning:  A Conversation with Emily Wing Smith," is by the lovely and talented April Brannon.  April is an English  professor at Cal State Fullerton who chilled with me at my first ALAN conference two years ago.  Thanks, April.  Enjoy your month.

And you enjoy it, too.

Winners Announced! And A Mad Tea Party

The moment you've all been waiting for...the winners of  the WIFYR giveaway are:  Laura, Kaylie and Lana!  Congratulations!  Please email me with your address and choice of book!  This is where my friends say:  "Email address in the sidebar," but I don't know if my email address actually is in the sidebar, so it's just: emilywingsmithATgmailDOT com. In case you wondered how the winners were "generated" it was by a complex algorithm in which I wrote down everyone's name as many times as they entered and then played MASH until only three names remained.  This provided some quality entertainment during the less interesting portions of church yesterday.

In Friends Reading My Mind News:

I recently inherited my grandmother's china.  Inherited is the wrong word, I guess, as my grandmother is still alive.  So that's good, but it did raise the question why give it to me now?  I mean, it should have raised that question.  Of course  I didn't actually think about it until my husband asked me:  "Why did she give it to you now?"

Um, because she loves me?

But whatever the reason, I am now the proud owner of a lovely tea service, and as I removed each delicate piece from its bubble-wrap I thought what a shame it is I don't give tea parties.

What should happen the next week, however, but some of my writer friends and I decide to get together and I offer to host.  And Sara Z. says, "how about a tea?"

Bingo!

Right-side-up photo courtesy of Sara's iPhone.

The top photo features our original writing posse of me, Anne Bowen, James Dashner and the lovely Sara Zarr (who is, in this picture as in life, head and shoulders above the rest of us).

But wait, there's more!  Who should grace us with her presence that day but terrific writer and local celebrity Ann E. Cannon.  In fact, she's head and shoulders above the rest of us, too.

I need a bigger couch.

A Brush With Stardom

If you haven't already, check out my uber-swank contest promoting the Writing for Young Readers Conference this summer!  Yours truly will be teaching the beginning novel workshop,  so for all you writers out there, sign up!  You will be hard pressed to find a better value for your money out there.  And I'm all about  value for da money, trust me. If you're not a writer, or just can't swing the conference this year, help promote it and be eligible for the same great prizes!  The contest ends on Friday, so enter now, while you're thinking about it.

So, remember how I want to be a TV extra?  This is actually not a totally random whim (of which I have many) and it's not for my love of the spotlight (which is a lukewarm love at best).   It's for a writing project I'm working on and have been planning for awhile.  Then, luck of luck:  I discovered that the show I wanted to be an extra for was actually filming an episode in Utah the very NEXT WEEK!

Then the luck ran dry. My husband, who is rarely sick, fell victim to a nasty flu.  Determined not to let it affect me, I avoided this flu by getting 12 hours of sleep a night, drinking plenty of fluids,  bathing in hot water with Epsom salts, and getting close to Daniel only to give him my miracle-cure apple cider.

Unfortunately, I avoided this flu until the day BFF Brodi and I were heading up to Park City to be part of the action.   After a prolonged, boring exchange with the Film Commission and our various "contacts" we learned that the show already had more than enough extras.  Which was good, because although I deluded myself into thinking I was healthy that day, when I washed my hands at Brodi's and saw myself in the mirror, I said (not just to myself, but audibly) "I look sick."

Indeed I did.  In every sense of the word.

Worse still, once in Park City my ears clogged up, my hearing not to return until the end of the day.  Oh, and it was FREEZING.  Brodi noted my lack of  usual "sidling skills."

B:  So what do we do first?"

ME:  Well, first we should...you know...wait, what did you just say?

But the day wasn't a total waste.  We chatted with an actual extra, and managed to get close to the filming due to our "contacts."  Of course, I didn't take a picture then.  No, I waited until we were walking away.

Awesome pic, right?  In case you were wondering, yes, I did take this literally as I was walking away.  I figured it couldn't be worse than the blurry photos I take while standing still.

The best part was when we stopped for lunch and a hot beverage:

Besides it being a fun time, lunch was also where I met Stephanie, waiting for a pick-up order.  I knew she worked for the show immediately because of her accent specific to the region where the show filmed.  Not, of course, by the puffy vest she was wearing with SHOW'S NAME embroidered on the back.  Stephanie was the tutor for the little boy in the above picture (not Brodi.  The one above that).  This struck me as the COOLEST JOB EVER.

Which is probably why I will never be famous.

Princess Parties And Free Books

When I was five, I was invited to a princess party for my friend Emily P.'s birthday.   Even though I was then, as I am now, not a huge princess person, I waited for the party with bated breath.  Seriously, bated.  And then, one day, as I was expressing this anticipation to my mother for the zillionth time, she said, "Wait!  The party's right now!" This wasn't just a cruel joke.  She had FORGOTTEN about the party and by the time we got there, it was over.  Oh, the humanity!  Emily P. opened my present even though the other guests had left.  I hesitate to go into details, lest my mother read this and have one of those "I'm-a terrible-mother" moments mothers are prone to, but let's just say it was somewhat of a let down.

But all is not lost!   Because on Saturday afternoon, nearly twenty five years after the fact, the universe corrected itself and I was able to attend the best princess party ever.

Imagine me living vicariously through one of these  happy kiddos, enjoying candy necklaces, tiaras, and other goodie bag shwag at the amazing Lindsey Leavitt's PRINCESS FOR HIRE  book launch at fave indie bookstore the King's English.  Her book is fresh, funny, and the first in a series.  What more could you want?

Lindsey and I have been tight since we bonded over a quick lunch together one of the last times she was in the SLC, and kept it up in LA at the SCBWI conference where we cried like babies over Richard Peck and strutted our stuff at the Blue Moon Ball .  Our next plan is to rock the Vegas at Barrypalooza '10.  But back to Lindsey's special day.

Here we are holding uber-princessy copies of PRINCESS FOR HIRE.  I'm holding two, because I bought one copy for me and another as a prize for my terrif  WIFYR contest!

I'm holding the contest to get the word out about the fabulous Writing for Young Readers Conference this summer at its new venue in Sandy, Utah.  You can sign up for it or just help spread the word and win free books!  But you must hurry, because this contest ENDS!

Yep, people have asked if there's an actual end to this contest.  I was like, "why bother?" but then I realized it had to end sometime, or else no one could win.   So the LAST day to enter is THIS FRIDAY March 26.  And although I should be using all my typing-time this week to finish the edits on my forthcoming novel (!) I will be rockin' the time management skills and blogging, too!  To remind the world of this contest, and to share some hilarious stories that have made March a Month to Remember.

As if the princess party wasn't enough.

Register Once, Win Fource (What Is Four Times Called?)

I am a bad, bad, person and didn't post last week.  That's right. Lately my goal has been a mere ONE POST PER WEEK.  And I couldn't even swing that. I hate myself sometimes.

Especially times like this, when I had something really, really important to blog about.

I'll be teaching a beginning novel workshop at the annual Writing for Young Readers conference this summer.  This is one of the premier  writing conferences for writers/illustrators of kids/YA books.  PREMIER!

The thing is, this year instead of being held at the traditional location (BYU in Provo, Utah) WIFYR will be held at the Waterford School in Sandy, Utah.  And this change in venue has led to a lot of people thinking the event's been canceled.  Not so!  So  The Six, my writers group/BFFs/misc., who  are all  WIFYR fans, determined to spread word of its greatness to writers far and wide.

And YES, aspiring writers count as writers!  So if you are one of those people who just think of yourself as a "wannabe" writer, this is for you!  Especially my morning workshop.  I don't mean to shamelessly self-promote...no, really, I don't...but my class is aimed at "wanna-be" writers.  The ones I meet at book signings, and when I ask if they're a writer, they pause, turn red, and say, "not really."  I have found that in 100% of cases I've seen, not really means, "I'm not a real writer because I don't have anything published, so if I say I'm a writer you will probably yell at/scoff at/laugh at me."

I do NONE OF THE ABOVE, because I too was an unpublished writer once.  Guess what?  All "real" writers have been unpublished!  Then, we went to conferences like this one, learned more about our craft, made connections, and here we are.

Anyway, The SIXers are holding giveaways in order to spread the word about this conference.  This is where my shame comes in, because technically, Kim's contest is already over.  She was the one to come up with the idea, which is this:  sign up for the WIFYR Conference ( June 14-18 )and be entered to win one of many book-related prizes!  Now, if you sign up for the conference, enter Kim's contest and tell her it's my fault you're late.  She will let you enter anyway...I will make it my business to see she lets you enter you anyway.

Meanwhile, Valynne's contest is still open, and she's (surprise!) giving away books too!  And if by chance you can't personally attend the conference, all is not lost!  You can still enter in myriad ways (not radio-contest ways, like sitting on a block of ice or swimming in Jello.  Much easier ways).

And, of course, Brodi's contest.  Sign up for the conference, and you will likely win one of five...wait for it...free books!

Now, to add to the fun, I am also having a contest!  This is my first official contest/giveaway on this blog.  Not that I've ever unofficially given anything away on this blog.  Truth be told, I'm pretty cheap, so giving away awesome things like brand-new books?  Um, why would I do that?

For WIFYR, of course.  I'm doing it all for WIFYR.

I bet you can't guess that my prizes are...

An autographed copy of BEAUTIFUL CREATURES.   I bought this copy at the Salt Lake City BEAUTIFUL CREATURES  launch party and had authors Kami Garcia and Margy Stohl sign it to NO ONE lest I ever hold a contest.  Now the day has come.

An autographed copy of THE DARK DIVINE by fellow member of  The SIX Bree Despain.

An autographed copy of PRINCESS FOR HIRE by Lindsey Leavitt, which isn't even officially out yet.  I know a guy.

Of course, winners can also choose an autographed copy of my own THE WAY HE LIVED, if they so desire.  And, you know, it's cheaper for me.

To be one of the FOUR winners in this very generous contest (with equally generous prizes):

--Leave a comment showing your support (of WIFYR, The SIX, me personally--it doesn't much matter) +1

--Blog, Facebook, Tweet about this contest and conference +2 each

--Register for the full conference and tell me in the comments +10

--Register for the full conference AND register for Emily Wing Smith's workshop (again, NOT shameless self-promotion; I saw Valynne was doing it and wanted to be like her)  +15

TrainBuddies And Other BFFs

Those of you who know me, or are regular readers of this blog, know I love me a good Game Night.  And my game of choice?

Ticket to Ride, or "Train" as it is affectionately known by the Friday-night Train group consisting of me, Daniel, my sister Juliana and bro-in-law Reo.

The best part of Train is when two players build on parallel tracks and call out "Train Buddies!"

As you might have guessed, this is not actually a rule.  In fact, I doubt anyone else does it.  But in our group it's a long standing tradition.

I was reminded of Train Buddies when a picture surfaced from YA writer extraordinaire  and French-fry sharing-BFF Sarah Ockler.

This photo was taken at lunch one day during last year's National Council for Teachers of English convention in Philadelphia, and it is full-color proof that I am, indeed, BFFs with Rebecca Stead, this year's Newbery medalist.  If you'll direct your eyes to the back row, from left to right, you will see famous authors Rebecca Stead, Sarah Ockler, and then ME!  On the bottom row, David Macinnis Gill, Jo Knowles, and of course, Sara Zarr (who is my friend in real life, so she doesn't really count.   Let's get back to the imaginary friends, shall we?)

Now, you might think that we were all eating lunch on a train, because, you know, why else would this picture of buddies remind me of  Train Buddies?  Alas, this picture was taken at one of those boring stationary restaurants.

The picture reminded me of Train Buddies because I took the train from my hotel to the conference every day, and it ended up being one of the best parts of the trip.   Unlike my imaginary buddies at this table, who likely don't remember my name, my buddies from the train...well, they probably don't remember my name either.  But we did get to bond over  our jaunt into the city.

I met two English-teachers from Arizona who taught at an almost entirely Spanish speaking school.  I met a girl from SoCal who was following Phish on their comeback tour.  I met a local who worked for the fine state of PA, who was one of the most gracious, caring women I've ever known.  I met a teacher from Ohio who knew all about Mormonism--because of what she had learned in a scrapbooking magazine!

Too bad it's so abnormal to take pictures of the inside of a train car.  I'd love a picture of those buddies most of all.

My Computer Skillz This Week

I found this photo a long time ago and loved it...but it is only now that I have summoned the savvy to share it.

What do you think?  Will this image hold true much longer?

What's Your Love Language?

Happy Post-Valentine's Day Post!  I hope everyone is feeling adequately loved, or at least adequately comforted by chocolate.  These cupcakes were made by my oh-so-talented sister Juliana and they rest upon an old-school Strawberry Shortcake paper plate.   Remember old-school Strawberry Shortcake?

I so don't get why they made Strawberry Shortcake look all different now.  She had a good look going.

This Valentine's Day was unique because I had  conversations with various friends about  their "love language."

For those unfamiliar with the love language concept, a brief synopsis.  When Daniel and I got married, we received two copies of this book called THE FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES.  According to the author, everyone speaks one of five love languages.  So, to truly show love for someone, you must determine what says LOVE to them, and then act accordingly.  I have to admit I did not read this book, but I think the languages are: gifts, acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation and something else.  I don't know, look it up--supposedly this is a very popular book.

Because I am obviously anti-love, this book, and the concept never spoke to me.  I think Chomsky would say I lacked the "love language acquisition device" early in life. Case in point:

THINGS THAT MADE ME FEEL LOVED THIS WEEK

1.  THE WAY HE LIVED got great reviews from the fine bloggers at Fire and Ice,  Writers Butt Does Not Apply to Me, and Reading List of A Book Pusher.  Every time a reader connects with my book, it feels like the first time ("It feels like the very first time").  Someone gets it.  I've been able to touch someone as an author, which has been my dream for as long as I can remember.

Not to mention the AMAZING review I got this week at  The Internet Review of Books. In her essay, fiction editor Julie McGuire lists THE WAY HE LIVED as one of her top 10 favorite YA books.  Ever.  Like, on the same list as John Green and Laurie Halse Anderson and Neil Gaiman and Suzanne Collins and even--wait for it--Sherman Alexie.  (I was going to link to one of my other posts about my obsession with Sherman Alexie, but which to choose?).

Me, sharing space with Sherman Alexie?  Feel the love.

2.  When he learned I was having trouble finding the sock drawer organizer I wanted, Daniel made me one!  While  I was online, trying to decide whether or not to pony up the $9.99 (plus shipping), he constructed a similar organizer from a cardboard box.  He knows how much I hate to spend money and thus hate traditional "gifts."  So this was like an act of service/gift/quality time hybrid.  As love languages go, I guess this was like speaking Esperanto to me.

3.  I get nightmares.  Every night.  And I wake up screaming, and Dan has learned that, much like a three-month-old, it is rare indeed for me to sleep through the night.  I remember my nightmares.  Vividly.  I also remember that some people have happy dreams, because why else would we call "dream come true" a "dream come true?"

I wanted a happy dream.  And this week, I had one!

If you haven't read about my awesome encounter with Sabrina, the current girlfriend of my high school crush Adam,  you must check it out, because in addition to it being the best story ever, it provides background for this dream.  So, for some reason I was back in high school, but this time it was chill, because for some reason I was happy to be there, and I was just walking along and I saw Adam and Sabrina (in real life, I don't know what Sabrina looks like, as we've never met).  And they were like, "hey!  Do you want to organize the prom?"  and I was like, "Heck yes!"

So for the prom the high school held a dinner, which was a traditional Sedar, because, you know, there's a big Jewish population in suburban Utah.   Afterward we had a dance, DJed by a rabbi who taught us a bunch of traditional Jewish dances.  In the dream, I was an excellent dancer, and I also knew the difference between left and right.

This is my love language, right or wrong.

Missing Vegas, Chocolate, and Barry

I haven't even been back a week yet, and already I miss Vegas.

This picture, taken outside the lovely Mandalay Bay, was one of the last ones I managed to squeeze out of my camera before the battery died.  I have nary a photo of the chocolate desserts I ate on this trip.  And believe me:  I ate MANY  a chocolate dessert.

For anyone who wants to read a great synopsis of the trip from the POVs of three pretty darn funny writers, check out these entries by  Brodi, Sara B., and Valynne .

I'd offer a synopsis of my own, but I have a grand total of three pictures from the trip, and one is just of Brodi's hand.   Now, I did ask my friends to take pictures in my stead.  And they did, because they rock like that.  But then they didn't send them to me.  How can this be?  I know when I get home from a trip the first thing I want to do is email my friend approximately 3 gillion gigabytes of chocolate cake photos.

Now, a word about Barry Manilow:

For those who might not know, my dream is to see Barry Manilow perform before I turn 30, on October 14 of this year.  And it turns out there are more people than I though who actually would want to go see Barry, too.  Thus the Barry Committee, headed by me, is making plans for a Barry Pilgrimage, of sorts, in which we all convene at his new showroom in the Paris, Las Vegas.   Time and dates are TBA, but chime in here in the comments if you'd like to join us.  It will be a rollicking good time, I guarantee it.  Even if nobody plays a single penny slot.   But I probably will.

Thanks to all those who came to Authorpalooza on Saturday!  It was great to see old friends, meet new ones, and see the amazing amount of literature coming out of Utah.  This is the place, dawgs.

Why You Should Never Lease Your Pants

I'm so excited to announce that yesterday I guest posted on Throwing Up Words, the excellent new blog by by writer BFFs Ann Dee Ellis and Carol Lynch Williams.  This week they're discussing my alma mater Vermont College, home of the Fighting Pens (Just kidding.  I don't even think we have a mascot.  But it's nonetheless a fine, fine school).   There are lots of great, informative posts.  Mine is about how much I love exchanging pants.  And also about VC. I'm not gonna lie to you, it's been a tough go of it for me and pants.

It started out last summer, when I went shopping with my established-writer (and thus very, very, wealthy) BFF Sara.  I needed pants.  I don't like shopping for pants because I'm oddly shaped.  My torso-to-leg ratio is apparently way, way off, so jeans hang several inches below my ankles.   I'm short, but I'm not that short--just my legs are.  So jeans also hang several inches below my waist.  Which would be A-OK was I a thong sportin' type of girl, but I am not.  Thus, the all-day search began.

We ended up at Nordstrom, where my wealthy friend was appalled by my inability to pay a SALE PRICE of $85 for a pair of jeans that fit.  So I threw caution to the wind and purchased them.

They were similar to this, except they had had small copper studs on the pocket.  These studs promptly fell off, one after the other in sad-after-sad wash.  The jeans now looked stupid.  I had paid EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS for them!  On sale!  An exchange was necessary.

However, they no longer manufacture these jeans, because, you know, they were on sale.  Why make sale-jeans year round?  So I found the similar-looking jeans not on sale and asked to exchange them.  Which I could, but only for the NOT ON SALE price!  So instead I returned them and came home with $85 and no pants.  I mean, I had pants on.  But that was it.

I was indignant when I relayed the story to my husband, who recapped my 45-minute saga into this:  "So you bought a pair of jeans, wore them for six months, returned them and got back the exact amount of money you paid for them?"

I could sense a trick.  Like he was trying to make me look like the crazy one in all this.  "Yes, but now I don't have any pants!"  (Again, don't misunderstand:  I was wearing pants).  "I just wanted pants for pants.  And they wanted to charge me an additional$30 to do so!  Making my pants a total of $115!  I can't spend $115 for a pair of  jeans.  Who am I, Blair Waldorf?"

He ignored the lame Gossip Girl reference and pointed out that actually, I was getting a pair-and-a-half of jeans for $115, since I'd already worn the other pair so thoroughly.  "It's like you were leasing your pants," he explained.

Everyone knows leasing is a rip-off.

In other news, check back soon for my next post, in which I explain why SIXer and writer BFF Brodi Ashton went on a hunger strike every day on our trip to Vegas (Hint:  she was protesting the fact that we weren't seeing Barry Manilow, until we reminded her that he doesn't start performing until March 5--mark your calendar now!  The next day she would forget again, and the hunger strike resumed.  Oh, Brodi.  We never actually ended up eating until after 3 p.m).