Jackhammer

So these guys have been digging up the parking lot right in front of my condo in search of some leaking pipe. Three days later—no luck finding supposed leak...lots of loud jackhammers/diggers making my house shake and my head hurt.

In attempts to stay sane, I've compiled a few descriptions of what it's like to have a jackhammer about three feet from your window.

• It's like being inside a headache. Like, if a headache could consume your entire body.

• It's like a mild earthquake. Having been in one when I was younger, I'd say about a 4.0/5.0. Enough to shake the picture frames.

• I imagine a blender has the same effect on the bowl when you mix cake batter.

• If giants stuttered...

• If you magnified the sound of a hummingbird's wings times three thousand...

• And, because I can't resist, it's how hard my heart pounds whenever James Keane comes to visit, teehee.

Running From Magic

I really don't want to bore you with how boring I am right now. I'm pretty much doing nothing. Just taking a break of sorts. (If you consider waiting in a nervous fit a break, which I kind of do.) Hanging with the kids. Reading. Leveling my night elf priest in WoW. Forcing myself not to edit/write anything. Ya know.

So, it's excerpt time. Go figure. I'm pulling from Void today, since I'm in the process of editing this MS for the gazillionth time. Little summary for those who haven't read it:

Coral Starfall is Void—shameful when your parents are two famous wizards. Sick of being pitied for her magic-less state, she runs away to the modern world so she can delve into her true passion: technology, which the wizards have banned. But her almost-fiancé isn't quite ready to let her go. And there's something weird about the hot genius/athlete in all her classes...

Excerpt from Chapter 5: Fate Is Exponentially Cruel

Book Commentary: Stargazer

Before I talk book, make sure and check out Preliminary Merpire, my fake band, and our first single over at Carrie's. It's one rockin' song. Sure to be a hit.

Other news, Cindy Pon's debut novel, Silver Phoenix, is out TODAY! *Squee* I'm going to B&N the second it's open so I can start reading it immediately. So. Excited.

Stargazer by Claudia Gray
Quick Summary: This is Book 2 in the Evernight series, so I'll try not to give much away. Bianca is a living vampire—born of two vampires and destined to become one herself. Or so she's always been told. Add a hot vampire hunter, a fake boyfriend, a creepy school, paranormal activity, and you have one crazy little story.

In terms of style, I enjoy Gray's prose. It's clean and to the point, but she also makes room for description. Since I was in editing mode as I read, I did feel like some areas could have been tightened, but not a lot. My eyes are too shrewd at the moment. Perhaps it was because the love interest was gone most of the time, but it wasn't as much of a page turner as the first. I could tell Gray was setting up a lot of conflict for the next two books, which is fine, but it could have been done a little faster.

What I like most about this series is that these vampires are "real" vampires. No infinite power AND indestructability. These vamps are afraid of fire, die by decapitation, lose their reflections when they don't drink blood, and aren't fans of being on consecrated ground. I've read a few of the "romantic" vampire series (as in the vamps aren't the enemies), and it's just nice to have that more traditional take in at least one.

I really like Bianca. She's naive, but without becoming too obnoxious or stupid. She's got good instincts even if she doesn't know a lot about her world. You can feel her adolescense in comparison to the older vampires. She questions just about everything—especially in this book. Her life gets turned upsidedown, and she has huge decisions to make. Does she really love the boy she thinks she does? Are all vampires as "good" as she's been taught? Does she have a choice in becoming a vampire? Who can she trust with her secrets? She handles them all in a believable way.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who are vampired out, but if you're not, the Evernight series is worth a look. I've enjoyed it so far and am looking forward to the next two books.

Who Are You As an Artist?

Since I was outed in the Q&A, I may as well talk openly about American Idol now. I've been watching the show since it started...yeah, I'm that person. What can I say? I like singing! I like seeing people humiliate themselves. I like seeing an incredible performance where I think, "Oh yeah, this person is going somewhere."

It's season 8, for those of you who don't follow the show, and this year I've noticed the judges pushing one particular thing. Over and over they've given the same critique, though some have landed on the good side and some on the bad. I think we as writers could take this advice to heart. It always boils down to one question:

Who are you as an artist?

Anyone who watches the show should be nodding their heads right now. This is basically what the judges regurgitate every show:

Good version: "You're an incredible singer—and more than that you know who you are as an artist! That song was relevant. You stayed true to yourself. You breathed new life into a classic and made it stand out. You are ready for the big leagues now!"

Bad version: "I just didn't get that. Your voice is great and all, but the song sounded karaoke. You didn't do anything new with it. How are you going to stand out in the crowd if you don't bring something fresh to the table? We want to see YOU—not you doing someone else."

Adam Lambert is pretty much their poster child for a singer who knows who they are. Yes, he's not everyone's cup of tea—but he rocks it for the style he's representing. He's "fresh." Relate that to writing—you must make a splash in your genre. How? By bringing your own unique "voice" to the shelf. I've mentioned how important it is to know/read your genre. This example only proves it. It also shows how important it is to "rock what you got." A great voice can be wasted when you're not true to it.

What can happen if you don't know who you are as an artist? Lil Rounds. My heart just breaks for her. The woman has an incredible voice. No one will ever say different. But she couldn't find her place. Every week the judges would say the same thing. Every week the audience would wait for her to break out with "the song." It didn't happen. It makes me sad because she had serious talent—she just didn't know how to stand out or make a song different from the original. And that was the only reason she got cut. Ouch.

So, the lesson of the day: Know who you are as an artist. Stay true to who you are. And someone out there will appreciate your unique style.

Maybe Now I'll Take a Little Break...

So sorry I didn't get a sketch up yesterday! It's been one of those frantic weekends. I've been doing revisions for *cough* an agent, and have been rereading Relax, I'm a Ninja all weekend to make sure everything flowed together in the right way.

What do I think? I think the changes are freaking brilliant! I'm seriously happy with them. It's surreal to read through and not change more than a few words. But as much as I love this book, I'm hoping to get a little break from it. You know, that whole distance thing. I've read it about four or five times in the last two-ish weeks. My head is spinning like a merry-go-round.

The MS has been resent so I can't look at it again. If you'd like, please sprinkle lucky dust, cross your fingers, pull out the lucky charms. Whatever you can do to coax the universe into being nice to me, hehe.

Personally, I'm wearing all orange until I hear back...okay, I'm not, but I so would if I had that much orange clothing.

A song for your enjoyment:

The People You Meet, Part 2

I posted earlier this week about how much the people we meet affect our lives. I shared a not-so-nice story about snowballs. Today I thought I'd even out the "sadness" by sharing a story about a good person in my life.

Alien Encounters
The worst thing about moving is losing all your friends and having to make new ones. I was the kid who was shyer than her shadow. So when I had to go to Sunday School all by myself that first day at our new church ward, I was sweating so hard I kept my arms pasted to my sides so no one would see.

A nice lady walked me down the hall, explaining how excited they were to have another twelve-year-old girl in the ward. There weren't very many—three or four, apparently. That wouldn't be too bad; I'd melt into a puddle of water if it was eight or ten.

She turned the handle on a dark wood door, and the girls smiled when we walked in. I folded my arms, like that might protect me from sticking out.

"This is Natalie, she's new here. I hope you can all make her feel welcome." The woman left me with the three girls, and the teacher instructed me to sit down in the empty chair.

The metal seat was colder than the room. I kept my eyes on the teacher, having no idea what to say to the girls still looking at me. I didn't know why I was afraid of them—they seemed harmless enough. The one furthest away from me was pretty, with blonde bumper bangs and a nice dress. The one next to her wasn't so pretty and wore plain colors, but still pleasant. And the girl closest to me had short brown hair parted down the middle.

She held out her pale white hand and smiled, braces showing proud. "Hi, I'm Lynn. I'm an alien."

I stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to make of that. Was she teasing me? Probably not. She was making fun of herself, not me. Was she joking? If she was, she was sure good at keeping a straight face. I finally decided she was trying to lighten the mood, and I couldn't have been more grateful.

I took her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm human."

She nodded. "You seem pretty cool though. I won't experiment on you or anything."

"Thanks."

Lynn became one of my best friends. She's one of the weirdest people I've ever met still to this day—and that's what I loved about her.

She introduced me to anime, and we'd get together with friends to watch hours of yummy Japanese goodness. Trunks, from Dragonball, was her boyfriend. And she dubbed Gohan mine. She tended to wear dark colors—all except her pink Hello Kitty wallet. Her pink Hello Kitty wallet on a thick metal chain. I can't tell you how funny it was when she whipped that bad boy out at the store. She loved pop tarts and claimed toaster strudels were the devil's food. If it was possible, she ate with a spork first and foremost. Pez was the candy of the gods. And 7Up flavored slurpies were sweet nectar.

Her family owned three classic VW Beetles—her dad refused to buy anything new because he could keep ressurecting them. They all had names. The red one: Bruce. The white one: Ethel. The blue one: Hercules. (I know, so patriotic!) But that wasn't all—they had a VW VAN too! It was LIME GREEN and they'd dubbed it "The Pickle." (I swear I'm not making any of this up.) There was nothing like that twinkie-shaped wonder showing up in your driveway, I'll tell you that.

I will never forget one particular Halloween. We gathered our friends for a group costume—we were going as Raisin Bran! We had it all planned out that we'd sing the jingle ("Oh it's the raisins that make, Post Raisin Bran so great!") and get way more candy for our awesomeness. Our raisins cut holes out of black trash bags, while our bran flaskes shaped their crunchy goodness from cardboard. We thought we looked pretty good, but when we started trick-or-treating, turns out we didn't look so much like Raisin Bran. Yeah...it hurts when people give you this funny look and say, "Are you guys trash?"

Lynn was truly one of a kind and proud of it. As an extremely insecure girl, she taught me that I could be myself without apology. I think sometimes my parents worried about the extra "weirdness" in my life, but the self-confidence I learned from Lynn helped me cope with the aforementioned "Phil," whose bullying ways might have torn me to pieces otherwise. She probably has no idea, but Lynn helped me accept and appreciate myself.

You Asked, So I Answered

I have a lot of questions to answer, so I better just get to it.

Whirlochre asked: Do weird things happen when you wear your orange shoes and orange belt at the same time?
I haven't worn them together yet. But when I wear my orange belt with my orange shorts, every liquid in our house freezes solid. Yes, it's that cool.

Kasie asked: Nat, how did you get so smokin' hot?
Mostly through DDR and my exercise bike and not eating after dinner. But I've always been naturally hot—you should see when I chopped my hair and PERMED it in third grade. Smokin'. Hot.

And what size shoe do you wear because I want to borrow your orange shoes?
I wear an 8/8.5, which is pretty interesting because I wore a 9 in high school! So either there's some kind of shoe maker conspiracy, or my feet miraculously shrunk. Both options would make a great short story, no?

Do either of your parents write and/or draw?
Kinda. My mom is a very creative person, and she was my first drawing teacher, really. But she is more into crafts. Back when tole painting was big, she was actually a published painter! She has a few instructional books. Now she is a PRO quilter (she's taught me a few things). Seriously incredible—here's her blog. She's got more followers than me!

Dande asked: Did you make the blue and green swirls at the top of the blog?
I so did, glad you like them.

Lotusgirl asked: If you had a star named after you, what form would the name take? and what kind of star would you be?
Hmm, hard question. If it was named after me, I guess it's be the Natalie Star. I'd love to be one of those really sparkly ones that even people in the city can see, but I have a feeling those are all taken. So I'll settle for mostly sparkly that people in the burbs can see.

Litgirl asked: If you won a million dollars, how would you spend it?
First thing—a Macbook Pro. I know, not a house, not a car. MACBOOK PRO. After that I'd probably buy a house, cuz I hear they are pretty cool things to have. Something about backyards? Kitchens that more than one person can stand in? If I had any money after that, I'd love to travel. Top destinations: New Zealand and Japan.

Carrie asked: Am I the only person who thinks that Kris Allen looks like a demented Muppet?
Maybe. I'll need a side by side comparison of said demented puppet and Kris Allen. Now there's a blogpost idea...

And if you were in a merpire calendar, what month would you be and why?
July—it's the hottest month, so I figured it was only right. I'd wear my orange tail.

Sraasch asked: What is your favorite smell?
Pomegranate is way up there. I also love the pumkin pie/spice spectrum in the fall. I love "clean" scents, not flowery, like lemon, orange, and any of the other citrus-like scents.

Nick asked: If I could be a character in any of your books, which would I be?
Hon, do you know how hard that question is? You've kinda leeched into all my male characters in one way or another. For now, I'm going to say if you were a teen again, you'd be Stu. Extremely nervous, but adorable and sweet. Stu totally grows and becomes someone as awesome as you;)

Cindy asked: what was the first physical feature you noticed in your hub?
See, I knew Nick for a while before I was ever "interested" in him. When I first met him...I think the top three things I noticed were is blond hair hanging in his face, his prominent nose, and his broad shoulders.

how does writing and drawing differ for you? or does it feel the same during the fact?
Drawing is more relaxing to me than writing. I enjoy both, but drawing is purely my hobby, where I see writing more as my "job." Love my job, but I put more pressure on myself to succeed in writing than drawing. BUT. When I do get in that creative mode...if I can truly disconnect from the inner editor when I'm rough drafting...writing and drawing do feel very similar.

Mariah Irvin asked: Do you listen to music when you write? Do any songs inspire your writing?
I often listen to music. I'm a Pandora girl, so I have different stations for different books. Whatever fits the mood of the book best. For Void, it was Hellogoodbye. For Sealed, it was Snow Patrol/Keane. For Ninjas, it was Paramore/Hellogoodbye. For Hammered, it was Missy Higgins/Ingrid Michaelson. As you can see, I have broad tastes in music.

Kiersten asked: Who?
Preliminary Merpires

What?
Hottest band ever...at least on par with the Punktuations!

Where?
Inside the genius that is Carrie's brain

When?
ALL THE TIME

Why?
Cuz merpires are sparkling hot

And, most importantly, HOW?!?
See, I drew this picture, and I sketched out some "preliminary merpires." It kinda got rolling from there...

Okay, fine. If you could be any character in any of your books, which one would you be?
Wow, that's a really hard question because I put my characters through a lot of crap. I think I'd really like to be Coral Starfall. She's so smart and beautiful. And she has motorcyles. And Luke, who is one of my favorite love interests that I've written. Oh, and I love her name.

Renee asked: Who are you rooting for on American Idol and why?
Oh man, now I have to openly admit that I watch AI. This has been a hard season for me because I don't have one person that I LOVE. I think they are all good. Examples: I totally appreciate Adam Lambert's song choice and style (loved that Mad World, dude), but then he kinda weirds me out at the same time. And then Danny Gokey...he's good, but I'm getting a bit tired of hearing the same thing each week. Kris...yeah, he's trying to lay on that cute boy thing too much, but also a good singer! Allison, adorable, killer voice, but she hasn't rocked my world. Who's left? Oh, Matt, not a huge fan. He's just okay.

Related: Do Kris Allen's chocolate brown eyes make you swoon?
Nope, they don't. He's a tad too baby face for me. I like more of a "rough" look, teehee.

Adam asked: Which Konoha ninja are you?
Ack, I hate to admit I haven't watched as much Naruto as I should. What with all the writing, it's still on my list. And seriously, there aren't a lot of girls to pick from, huh. I'm not the angtsy pink-haired Sakura-chan, that's for sure. Nick says I'd be Tsunade.

Sara asked: I just finished the first draft of my first novel. What do I do now?
Party! Congratulations! Just take a deep breath, go out to dinner, and let it all sit for a second. Like a week minimum. Seriously, get some emotional distance from that MS before you take another look. You've put all this creative energy into it, and now you are going to have to rip it all apart.

Seriously, what are the steps you take when it come to tackling the editing process?
After relaxing some, read this post, and this one. Oh, and this one.

C'mon, I Know You're Curious

I'm going to open it up for questions today, since I'm working hard on edits. So bring them on, please. You don't want to see me generate my own. It's pretty embarrassing. Answers up tomorrow.

The People You Meet

Other people can change your life. Obvious, I know, but it's been weighing on my mind recently. I can point out several specific people who have affected my life in big ways.

There are the "good" people—lots of good people even. I can name many: my parents, my friends, my husband, my children, etc. But I've been thinking more about the "bad" people. The ones who challenge everything about you. The ones who turn you into someone you don't want to be. The ones that impact you in the worst ways. Otherwise known as villains in writing. I can think of a few in my life, and I thought I'd share the fateful day I met one of them. (Names changed because I'm that nice.)

Snowballs
We stopped at a gas station on our way to the Sierra Nevadas for a snow day, and we all got out to stretch our legs. My little brother Mark went off with his two friends, so I was left to stand by myself as Mom filled up the car and grabbed snacks. There wasn't anyone my age on the trip, but I was fine being alone. I'd had a lot of practice acting like it didn't bother me. I took in the trees, the cold air, the inches of snow on the ground. We weren't far from the cabin and sleds and snow gear. I was excited.

Then I noticed the two older boys staring at me. My stomach filled with rocks. I knew who they were, but I'd never talked to them. Greg was the older brother of Mark's friend and a year older than me. He seemed nice enough, always had a smile on his chubby face. His blond hair poofed out like an afro. The other guy was Phil—Greg's close friend. I didn't know much about him past the cunning grin and lemon-shaped head. He walked funny, reminded me of a duck sometimes.

Phil whispered something to Greg, and I couldn't help but think it had to do with me. They were looking my way, afterall. The blood ran to my face. Boys. I couldn't stomach the panic, so I got back in the van so they couldn't see me.

When we got to the cabin, we suited up. I had to wear these ugly black snow pants and a huge coat, but it was better than freezing.

"That's a great look for you." Phil's smug grin made me feel small, helpless. "Any gorilla would think you're hot."

The words hurt—they always hurt no matter how many times I'd heard that stupid "sticks and stones" saying. I was fully aware of how cruddy I looked in secondhand snow gear. Did he have to rub it in? I hated that I couldn't think of anything to say back. I headed outside, ready for the snow and, hopefully, some solace.

The woods were beautiful. There wasn't much room to sled, but Mark and his friends carved out a place on a small hill. I decided to walk into the woods a little. I didn't want to be anywhere near Phil. I took off my coat, the thick snow giving me quite the workout, and wrapped it around my waist. I leaned on a tree trunk and listened to the distant sounds of my family and their friends having fun. I was starting to wish I'd stayed home, but at least the view was nice.

A smacking, stinging pain struck my right ear. I grabbed at it, finding a wad of snow. It was only then that I heard the laughing. I turned my head, still hugging my ear, to see Phil. Greg stood back a few paces, looking embarrassed. He didn't say anything, but I appreciated the silent sympathy any way.

"Phil, cut it out," Lauren, Greg's older sister, said.

"What? Just a friendly snowball fight." He turned back to me. "C'mon, try to hit me, Natalie."

Anything that resembled athleticism was lost on me. I wasn't going to have him laugh again when I missed by a mile. "I don't want to play."

"Why not?" He'd scooped up another handful of snow, balling it up as he came closer.

"Because." I wanted to say something clever, but my ear still hurt and I was trying not to cry. "Just go away."

"You're going to have to defend yourself then." He chucked the snowball so fast and hard I didn't have time to think. It hit me right in the eye, and the pain made my vision go black for a split second. Tears spilled out against my will. I'd had enough.

"You're such a jerk! Leave me alone!" I ran away. I didn't pay attention to where I was going; all I knew was that I had to get as far away from Phil as possible. I never wanted to go back. After today, I swore I'd never get near him again, let alone talk.

Before I knew it, I had no clue where I was. I stopped walking, fear washing over me as I realized I might be lost. In the woods. In winter. It was all Phil's fault, or at least that's what I decided. I looked around trying to figure out which way I came from. It was snowing; my tracks quickly faded as I tried to follow them.

Then I spotted Mark's friend, sled in hand. I waved. "Mitch!" He looked up, a wide smile crossing his freckled face. I went over to him. "What are you doing out here?"

"I got mad and walked off...do you know where we are?" He looked scared. Great. Two lost kids. I hoped he could take me back.

"No." I looked around, praying for some kind of inspiration. I pointed to a small hill. "Maybe that way?"

He nodded. "That might look familiar."

We walked for a long time, not knowing if we were getting closer to our families or further away. We didn't talk much. My legs burned from walking in the deep snow. I ate snow to try and relieve my thirst, but it didn't seem to help much. We both sat on a rock, exhausted and terrified. It was getting dark. I had no idea what to do.

Then I heard my mother's voice. She was calling my name. Mitch's name came next, and we hopped back to our feet and ran to the sound. They were in sight—I waved. "We're here! Right here!"

Mom gave me a big hug as we went back to the cabin to get warmed up. I refused to look at Phil, but that didn't stop me from hearing his comment. "Making out with Mitch in the woods, huh?"

"Yeah, jealous?" Triumph flooded my tired body when he didn't say anything back. It was then that I learned being sarcastic, rude, and cold could get me somewhere.

As fate would have it, Phil didn't disappear from my life until I moved to Utah. He ended up joining my church congregation. And when I started junior high, he was in my band. Then I was invited to join the jazz band and had to sit right next to him. The mean comments never ceased, and the shell around my soul grew harder and stronger to block out the stinging cold snowballs.

California Is My Favorite Place, Apparently

Mini Update: As you all know, I've been doing a lot of revising lately and not much writing. I'm actually starting to enjoy it. I finished yet another revision of Relax, I'm a Ninja, thanks to some seriously incredible advice from an agent. I'm SO happy with the changes that I have a whole new outlook on revisions. I had no idea I was capable of writing a book this good, lol.

Okay, Actual Post: I've been thinking a lot about "place" recently. It's a subtly important part of a book, and it's a decision I've made several times. I tend to choose the places for my story very organically, but it's still an important decision. Place has a big impact on the story—more than whether or not your characters are wearing coats. It can set a mood, add cultural flavor, and sometimes make story scenarios possible/impossible. It's the background you're putting your figures in, and background makes a big difference.

Looking back, I've noticed a particular theme in my own places:

California

Five of my 9 projects take place in California, and 3 of those 5 take place in Northern California. I didn't intend this, but I spent almost 15 years of my life in the Bay Area. It's a natural choice for me, one that is comfortable and nostalgic. I imagine I might revisit California in future works as well. There's just so much there! (I'd love to do something in the Monterrey area.) Thought I'd share how I've used it so far and why I chose my places.

Sevene: (This is the first novel I rarely speak of, poor thing.) For this book I chose L.A. I wanted a city. It needed to be gritty enough, but I didn't picture cold weather...or humid. So I immediately went West Coast, and L.A. felt like the right spot for the story.

Void: I went real close to home for this one—Fremont, CA. It's a story close to my heart, so I figured it needed to be close to my memories too. I grew up there, and Coral actually lives in the apartment building I did (well, in my head she lives there). I also picked Fremont because it's pretty close to Mission Peak, and that's where I envisioned the secret wizarding community living. Since Coral can't teleport, she'd naturally run away to the closest city.

Evergreen: This one was actually a little hard for me, but I ended up in Napa Valley. Lily visits her father's vineyard for the summer. I needed a place with lots of plants, a place where people interact with plants—it's integral to the story. Napa ended up being ideal, shaping the story in ways I couldn't dream, but am happy about.

Relax, I'm a Ninja: I chose San Francisco because it had everything a ninja story needs! Fog, tall buildings, old buildings, alleys, Chinatown, shady parks, a large Asian community, etc. It also felt like a logical place for Tosh's parents to move when they came from Japan. It's perfect. I can't imagine the story happening anywhere else.

Hammered: I learned about the San Andreas fault in elementary school. Earthquakes were a big deal, and I remembered one in particular where our apartment shook hard enough that pictures fell. It was scary. With my wild imagination, sometimes I wondered what would happen if there was an earthquake big enough to sink the whole state. The book takes place in what's left of CA a few hundred years after such a catastrophe.

So, how did you guys pick your places?

Saturday Sketch 4.0

It's the 40th Saturday Sketch! Woohoo! Sorry it's so late; I've been busy today. Man, Kasie's lucky, because I just couldn't resist drawing her little fairy Elodie. This is how I envisioned the MC of her novel, Captivated. Elodie is flower fairy born to guardian fairies—a rare thing indeed. She doesn't quite belong with her kind, nor does she quite belong with her guardian family. She's beautiful, like she's supposed to be, and yet quietly strong. Love her.

Okay, now for the important news. A long time search has come to an end—yes, this was a very serious quest for me, one I've been pursuing for at least a year. And today I found what I've been looking for:

That's right. ORANGE SHOES. Hot orange shoes, even. Oh, I'm so happy I can't even tell you (I don't even care how white I am! If it worked for Edward...). There are no words. My life is pretty much complete. Totally wearing them to church tomorrow. Halla.

Because Stephanie IS That Awesome

Okay, if you don't know about the incredible Stephanie Perkins, you need to. The girl is unbelievably cool. So cool that I get knots in my stomach trying to be marginally funny when I comment on her hilarious blog. In all honesty, I kinda stalk her, but I'm too afraid I'm not awesome enough to actually hang out with her.

Why? Well, first off, she has blue hair. And, um, that's almost the epitome of awesome already. Second, she has good taste in about everything, from HBMs to cupcakes to books to friends. And third, she's just that funny (and those closest to me know how intimidated I am by funny people).

So you'd think that was all the awesome one cute little person could contain, right? Oh no. It's not. She snagged the uber cool Kate Testerman as her agent earlier this year, which means she's also a great writer. And THEN, guess what? Guess what? She just sealed a TWO BOOK deal with Dutton! SQUEE!!! And with John Green's editor, no less. Congrats, Steph! I bow to your freaking awesomeness!

(The over usage of "awesome" in this post just proves how excited I am. I did it on purpose, I swear.)

Rock What You Got

Yes, that is my little girl rocking out with her Easter eggs this past weekend. She already has quite the imagination, no? Egg as microphone—genius. Not only is she totally adorable, but the girl is just HAPPY in most any situation.

She reminds me every day of an important life lesson: Rock What You Got. Sure, there are more profound ways to say it (Tosh's dad would probably say something like "A nightingale sings its own song with pride."), but I'm not that kind of eloquence.

We're all individuals; we all have something unique to contribute to this fine, crazy world of ours. Even though I have faith in my own little voice, sometimes I wish I "fit in" or had the talents of others. (If only I was funnier, smarter, prettier, blah, blah, blah.) But let's all remember the obvious truth:

That is never going to happen.

I am always going to be me. You are always going to be you. And that is not a bad thing, is it? I don't think so. May as well embrace my love of orange, my need to write contemporary fantasy, and my curves. Sometimes it's a scary thing to be yourself, but in the end it's always better than trying to be someone you're not. No one is happy pretending for long.

Of course this all ties into writing. Sometimes we feel small when we see what other people have written (at least I have), but another person's creativity (or voice or style or whatever) does not devalue your work. You can't write anything but what you write. Upside? You CAN make what you write the best thing you have ever written. You can own it and be proud of it and be happy with where you're at. It's not easy, but it's totally doable.

So, Rock What You Got, even if it's plastic eggs when you'd rather have a microphone.

Who Knew?

I've done a lot of editing. I've put in the work to make my stories the best of my personal ability. I edited Ninjas like crazy—my best best best effort times ten.

And you know what? The dang thing can STILL be better. Who knew? A lot better, in fact. It's amazing what can click in my little brain with the right suggestions. I'd always felt there was something...off with one section, but I didn't know how to fix it. It was "fine," not great.

Well, more excellent advice has opened a world of incredible new changes. The kind of changes that will put my book over the top of awesomeness. I've never been so excited to edit! Not at all sad that I once again "failed" my poor characters. I'm going to make it up to you, Tosh! Promise! I've got my twin swords out, and I will beat your MS into submission. Rawr.

Book Commentary: The Graveyard Book

I've always been nervous to "review" the books I read. I struggle with the idea of placing one book above another. It doesn't feel natural because I truly believe that "difference in style" plays a large factor. How can I compare books that are nothing alike? It's that whole apples and oranges thing. Also, I have a great respect for every writer and every book out there—I know personally what it takes to get from idea to draft to finish. The thought of hurting a fellow writer is not pleasant.

So when it comes to my "reviews" (which I'm going to call "commentaries" because I don't even like the word "review"), expect nice words for the most part. I imagine that there might be a book out there that will completely miss my personal expectations, but it won't happen often. (I have pretty low expectations...or I'm really nice, take your pick.) I'm not going to have a number rating—that means little to me since opinions vary widely.

Alrighty then, shall we get on with it? (This is making me ridiculously nervous; I'm weird.)

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Premise: Boy's family is murdered. Boy escapes to a graveyard where the ghosts take him in and protect him until he's grown.

I'll admit this was my first experience with Gaiman's work, and it was delightfully different for me. As I read, I felt like I was sitting in front of a master storyteller at a festival, curled up in a blanket, smiling along with a crowd of eager listeners. The more "omniscient" pov isn't something I read often, and he pretty much rocked it. I fully accepted his "authority" as the storyteller.

What I really loved about this book might sound strange—it wasn't a "gripping" read. It wasn't fast paced. It wasn't heart pounding. There was this incredible world of ghosts and ghouls and other undead things. There was so much wonder and creativity to get lost in. And there was just enough curiosity to keep me reading. The entire read relaxed me—much needed in my current situation. It was...beautiful, like sitting on a porch swing and sipping lemonade (if the porch was in a graveyard).

The undead weren't too creepy, which was great because I'm not good with "horror." (Yes, I still have nightmares, heh.) They felt like friends because the MC lived and spoke with them like friends. I appreciated the finely-walked line between living and dead—the idea that we are different, but not that much, just enough. It all felt so real though it's not (or is it?). Of course this book got the Newberry; completely deserved.

Get Thee an Alpha

So I just found out one of my very close writer friends had no alpha readers for her recently finished MS. I literally gasped. I don't know how you no-alpha writers do it! Don't you get discouraged? Don't you worry about the choices you make as a writer? How in the world do you make it 60—100k words without falling into complete despair?

What? Maybe I'm just an insecure person? Sure...that might be a valid point, but let me just toot the Alpha horn for a second.

If you don't know what an Alpha reader is, let me give you a quick definition. An Alpha Reader is a person who reads a writer's rough draft as it is being generated. And they are awesome. Alphas don't have to be writers (though it's helpful), they just have to love you no matter what and be wildly enthusiastic about your desire to write.

The role of the Alpha is not to point out "messy" writing or little things that can be fixed later. That's the Beta's job. The Alpha role is two fold: 1) Point out anything they "don't get" or speak up when/if the story goes "off course." 2) Tell you after every single chapter that they are dying for the next and you're the best writer in the whole entire world and it's a crime you're not published yet (or something like that)!

I have two wonderful, perfect Alpha readers—my husband and my best friend. Getting their feedback as I write keeps me going, reassures me that I'm taking the story the right way, and stops me from making huge blunders right off the bat. I love it every time I get an "OMG that was awesome!" response, but I equally appreciate the "uh, that didn't go quite right...would MC really do that?"

Since I enlisted Alphas, I feel like my first drafts are in much better shape than before. The big plot holes just aren't there—I think more about what I'm writing because I want the Alphas to get the best possible rough draft. Of course, the writing is far from perfect, but still a lot better than if I was going it alone.

Consider finding an Alpha or two, you really won't regret it. Unless you find one who thinks they're a Beta and nitpicks you to death. That wouldn't be good. Make sure they know their role.

Saturday Sketch 3.9

Wow, so I finished Hammered yesterday! Yay! Another book done. Is that nine or ten? Nine. Sheesh. It's sad when you lose count.

In honor of reaching that oh-so-lovely finish line, I've drawn Danie (the MC) doing what she does best. The girl can't get enough of the ocean, which is weird for me because I'm not a huge fan. Go figure.

Hmm, let's see if I can venture a summary of the book:
Danie Dashwood is 100% organic—not cool when almost everyone in Western America is a Cyborg. Being organic means she has problems other kids don't, like anxiety and OCD. It also means she has a particular bitterness for the emo(tional) chip, which every member of the military has (including her Admiral mom).

Enter Troy Sullivan—an obnoxious Navy Private determined to soften her tough exterior and force her to face the past. Not so easy when Danie's sworn off military men. But he's persistent and reckless and hot. She's pretty much doomed, despite her valiant effort.

If Troy wasn't enough of a problem, Danie's entire world goes up in smoke when the clones of Eastern America send missles to her city. The attack is unlike any other they've seen during the God Wars, and it turns out Danie's organic nature may be the only thing that can unravel the mystery.

A Taste of Metal

What happens when I go dry on post ideas? Yeah, it's time for an excerpt. I'm just a little too caught up in writing to be witty or interesting. Here's a clip from Hammered, right before "the storm" starts. It's so hard to pick clips from this book—I don't want to give away my world. I'm a little protective of it this time around.

An Excerpt from Chapter 3: The Barrel Closes

Cyborgs Rock

So I'm like two-ish chapters away from finishing my WIP, Hammered (which really needs a name change cuz I swear the book isn't about drinking, heh). I spent the whole day on that BIG chapter, and thus have little to say except I do love this book, even if I often say I hate it. It's been so hard to write! Danie is one incredible girl, so determined once she gets past her fears. She's taught me a lot about myself, and her world has taught me a lot about how quickly our lives can change.

It's been such a learning experience, and I'm looking forward to editing because I'm positive it needs a lot. But as much as I want to work, I need a break. I'm taking off at least a month to just read and stew over all my projects. My eyes are officially tired of editing, and my fingers need a rest from typing to grow my fingerprints back or something. My cyborg superiors have approved my "vacation."

So, with all the reading I'm planning, are you guys interested in reviews? I've never done them (I tend to be very nice to books), but it could be fun.

Reading & Writing

When I'd just started writing seriously again (around spring 2006), I had this idea that if I read published books while I wrote, their style would somehow leech into my own writing. I also had a much more fragile ego, so I thought reading a great book would make me all depressed.

Then I finished my first book and went in search of information on how I might get it published. (Ah, the greenie days...bright-eyed, hopeful, and so very naive. Good times.) I read a lot of blogs and websites and noticed an excellent piece of advice—know your genre.

I felt a little sheepish because I'd spent a lot of time writing YA, but I hadn't read much in the year and a half it took me to write my first book. I'd always enjoyed reading, but college had replaced my previous "fun" reads with books about semantics and sociolinguistics. I was behind—I really didn't have a good idea of what was out there.

So I started reading. I picked up the books people were talking about, the ones they weren't, and everything in between. I still have a mile-long reading list (which I plan on getting to in a big way once my WIP is done next week), but I feel much more confident about my knowledge of YA.

And guess what happened? Reading my genre made me a better writer. I haven't accidentally stolen ideas or adopted someone else's style, but I've learned how to make my own cleaner and a little bit different from what's out there. I know where I fit on "the shelf," so to speak, and that there's room for me if I can get the right people's attention.

I know it's hard to read and write at the same time, that one often takes over the other, but I highly recommend taking little breaks from your WIPs to pick up a book in your genre and see what's out there. (I'm currently enjoying The Graveyard Book.) You need to know, see for your own eyes, what's selling and what's not. And you better make sure you actually like the genre you're writing in, because you're probably going to be there a while when you do make it. And if none of that is incentive enough, consider it research on which authors would be the best fits to blurb your book;P

Why English Is Weird

People like to joke around about how weird the English language is. How come we don't pronounce things how they're spelled? How come our grammar is so weird? I personally was so fascinated by the uniqueness of English that I studied just the language in college (no lit analysis for me, baby, mwahaha!).

They say English is the hardest language to learn in the entire world, and I would be willing to agree with that. To start, it has the largest lexicon on the planet. Sure, other languages have more declensions and "rules" and phonemes, but English is so difficult because it constantly breaks rules. There's an exception to everything.

Why is that? Is English just a rebel or something? I wish, wouldn't that be cool? (English rides up on its chopper, clad in leather, wearing aviator shades, sporting some wicked chops. "What you lookin' at, punk?") But that's not the case.

It's all about the history, actually. Yeah, way more boring than a chopper-riding English language. I still find it fascinating though. I'll give you a little run down:

1. Old English
Back in the day, we're talking Beowulf days, English was essentially a Germanic dialect. The Anglo Saxons brought it to the island with them when they took things over. Once there, it differentiated itself from other Germanic languages by taking on a bit of the Celtic (lots of place names and such). Old English is nothing like English today. It had Germanic declensions (conjugations-ish) for nouns and adjectives and stuff like that. The pronunciation was completely different (night would have had that lovely German sound to it [neecht] and was often spelled nixt).

2. Middle English
Enter the Normans in 1066, who were French speakers. They took over the government, and suddenly French became the language of awesomeness. What happened to English? It absorbed a ridiculous amount of French into the vocabulary and grammar. (Think The Canterbury Tales) This is why we have many words for the same thing—beef is the French, cow is the German...porc is the French, pig is the German, etc. What happens when you mix a Germanic and Latin language together? Well, you get something that looks more like the English we know. Except it's still pronounced more like German (wife is still weef, house is still hoos).

3. Early Modern English
Something extraordinary happened from around A.D. 1200-1600—The Great Vowel Shift (I know, the name begs to be made fun of). (Think Shakespeare) Vowels changed in English. The reasons are still kind of unclear, but the theory is that mass migration to the cities of Southern England after the Black Death brought a lot of dialects together. These dialects merged with each other, creating the pronunciations we know today. BUT people kept the old spellings, which is why our spelling makes for the only rigourous National Spelling Bee worthy of ESPN coverage in the world.

4. Modern English
That would be what we're speaking today in all its glorious dialects and flavors. And there's enough there to study for a lifetime. We continue to absorb words and structures from other languages—heck, we're so used to stealing stuff it's just part of the language. If, by some miracle, we don't have a word for it, we have no problem taking one from somewhere else. Think of the incredible Spanish influence in the South, the Asian words slowly filtering in, even Polynesian words like "taboo."

Once you know the history, I think it's easier to see why English is so "messed up." I wouldn't say messed up though, I would say "richly laced with history." All languages are, but I, of course, have a particular love for this language I've studied and spoken all my life.

Writing Endings

Seems like some of you are nearing the end of your WIPs like I am. That's right, Hammered is fast approaching 60k, and I'm pretty sure it's not going over 70k. That means I'm in the throws of those last pages. The climax, tying everything together, creating a satisfying ending. It's a big deal—it's what the book is all about. No pressure there.

I've done a couple endings in my day (okay, this will be my...ninth? maybe eighth...too tired to count right now), and each one is a different beast. Sometimes they sneak up on me—the book ends before I plan. Or I'll think I'm writing the end, but then it's not. Very rarely do I have an exact vision of how it's going to go. I'll have "the moment" that usually is the climax, but the rest is a tad hazy.

The first thing I make sure to do when I hit these last chapters is sllloooow doooowwwwnn. That's the hardest thing for me, because we all know I write like a cyborg with an iron-clad deadline. (Oh how I long for the day I have actual deadlines. I'd rock deadlines.)

You gotta take those last chapters slow. There are few things more frustrating to a reader than a quick ending. Or maybe that's just me. A reader spends a lot of time in a book; the ending shouldn't be "and they shot the bad guy, kissed, the end." It's the culmination of a couple hundred pages (or more)! It needs to be fully realized, savored, and true to the characters you've created.

The next thing I do is make sure my pacing is right. The tension needs to build properly. You've probably been building that suspense the whole novel, but it needs to be punched up for the end. All the chips on the table, not just 90% of them. In Hammered, I knew I was close, but there wasn't quite enough tension. Something was missing. If I wrote that climax, it wouldn't quite resonate because it would have happened too soon. So I started asking my characters some questions and found the extra wrench to throw in there—one extra chapter and now we're ready to get into it.

When it comes to the moment—the climax—I think the most important part is to make everything clear and compelling. You can't read the end and go HUH? What just happened? I personally feel a lot of pressure to deliver something cuh-razy, but that's not always the best way to go. Readers aren't necessarily looking for a crazy twist—they're looking for resolution, for a winner, for a happy ending. Sometimes the genetically altered wolves just aren't necessary...perhaps even distracting from the real purpose of your ending.

I personally hate when books end almost immediately after the climax. Uh, can I have a little breather? Some time to soak in the world and resolution? Please? When I write an ending, I'm not afraid to slow it down some for that last chapter or two, bring my characters back to some state of normality.

And I'm sure some people will bring up the inevitable question—what about if there's a sequel? My personal preference? I still want a satisfying ending, sequel or not. Cliffhangers drive me crazy, especially when I have to wait a year for the next book. I want something to hold on to while I wait.

So good luck with your endings, friends. Hopefully mine will turn out as well as I've planned.

Note: Adam put up a great post about endings as well if you want better advice.

Dance, Baby, Dance

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this or not, but I have a deep, deep love for a certain video game series. No, besides Final Fantasy (that's like a given to be awesome, and we all know I'm awesome [though FFXI does NOT count, ugh]).

That's right, people, I play Dance Dance Revolution (DDR). And I rock. I'm no hardcore competitor or anything, but I'm good. I could probably beat you (okay, maybe not YOU, but you in the corner). Nick and I play pretty often, and more often now that our kids go to bed at a reasonable hour and STAY asleep all night. Recently, we picked up all the old PS2 DDR games. So awesome. Now we'll never get bored.

And because I work out to video games, not only do I look super HOT, but I have a strange love for music that would make killer DDR songs. Like the Sunday Song today—Everytime We Touch by Cascada. I love her songs; some of them are starting to show up on the newer DDR games. This makes me happy.

Saturday Sketch 3.8

Thought I'd draw one of my other favorite ninjas today—Courtney Petersen. As the hottest cheerleader in the tenth grade, Courtney also moonlights as a butt-kicking ninja. Tosh finds that out the hard way. There's a lot of questions surrounding Courtney in Relax, I'm a Ninja. Is she really a brat? What Clan does she belong to? Is she the murderer? Is she fighting the murderer? Oh, the intrigue. I love her and what Tosh finally ends up learning about her life.

Love Stories: "Traditional" Love

This series has been so much fun to write. All the squishy, gushy love has put me in a good mood. *Sighs dreamily.* I'm almost sad this is the last day. Now I'll have to go back to having no clue what to post.

"Traditional" Love (another dumb title, sorry)
The Formula: Girl meets guy (or vice versa) and they connect. Then a sequence of butterfly-inducing events happen as she tries to figure out if guy likes her too. Gushy moment of awesomeness when they finally get together. But THEN comes the "deal breaker." Something so catastrophic (okay, at least gut wrenching) that you're not sure if this adorable couple is going to make it. After some tears and soul searching, couple pulls through...or doesn't.

This one has a ton of variants, and is really the skeleton for all the others if you think about it. All the other types can be mixed into this structure or be left out entirely. The freedom of this form is fun. You can do just about anything with it—uh, because it's the romance genre formula. I'll give you some of my favorites for examples.

One of my all time squee chick flicks—Return To Me. What is not to love? Fox Mulder crying, old guys singing Frankie, a sweetheart girl who had a heart transplant, old bicycles, monkeys, an IRISH/ITALIAN PUB! This is a great example of how many twists you can throw into the "traditional love" format. Fox's wife dies—her heart is given to sweetheart girl. They MEET and don't know! They fall in love! OMG! But then sweetheart girl finds the letter she wrote the donor's family—ahhhh. How do you overcome that? Oh, good stuff.

Man, why am I struggling to find a book example? Sad, my brain is going. There are a ton, of course, but it's Friday. I'm going to have to go back to the good ol' Pride & Prejudice again. Jane and Mr. Bingley's story is an adorable "traditional love." They are both immediately attracted to each other, they court, but then they are ripped apart by outside forces. Those meddling friends and family! How dare they! But they still care for each other, miss each other. And in the end they finally get to be together. Aw.

I pretty much use this formula in Relax, I'm a Ninja as well. There is a bit of a forbidden element though. This is also the basis for Sealed, with just a touch of reluctance. It's so easy to pull in bits of the others, and I think that's what makes this one exiting. You can hybrid it with anything. Throw a pinch of reluctance in at the beginning, or perhaps and touch of blindness, maybe an unintentional deception. So much to work with, so many hearts to break.

Love Stories: Deceptive Love

*Yawns* Well, I'm staying up way too late these days. Back in WIP mode—the transition from editing wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be. Hammered is coming together nicely, I think. It's such a different kind of story for me in a lot a ways, though it still has familiar elements as well. Anyway...on with my little series thing.

Deceptive Love (I know, not the best title, but you'll see)
The Formula: Girl (or guy) disguises themselves as someone else. While disguised, girl meets an incredibly cool guy who wants to hang out with her and stuff. Girl knows it's a terrible idea, but agrees to keep meeting the guy because she's so taken by him and doesn't think he'll accept the "true" her. They fall for each other, but inevitably the charade comes to an end. Guy learns girl's true identity and is upset by it. Girl apologizes. Guy either forgives or doesn't.

This one's a classic, isn't it? It's been done and done and done. I mean, how many modern Cinderella tales can the Disney Channel make? And yet...I'll still sit down and watch them from time to time. It's just so cute! Even if you know exactly how it goes. And there's something to be said about the "disguise" thing—characters often learn a lot about themselves by being someone else. The key to this formula is lovable characters (not just likable) and a really fresh/fun premise.

One of my favorite chick flicks ever? Never Been Kissed. Man, am I showing my sappy girly side this week or what? Drew Barrymore is a geek of a reporter assigned her first undercover project—pose as a high school student and learn what kids are really into. She has to become popular. Problem? She was THE nerd back in high school. In her quest to popularity, she falls for one of her teachers, but of course they can't really date and there's all this tension/flirting there. After she wins prom queen, it all comes out. Teacher is freaked. But she finally gets her first kiss. Awww.

I'm picking a modern YA book for this one—I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have To Kill You by Ally Carter. If you haven't read it and you're into YA, you gotta pick it up. Seriously. This is a perfectly done "deceptive love" story. Cammie is a spy—she goes to a secret spy school made to look like a preppy all girls private school. On a practice mission in town, Cammie accidentally meets a "town boy" named Josh—the first boy to ever see her. She pretends to be a homeschooled girl; he wants to see her again. Her spy friends make it happen. Hilarity, mischeif, and heartbreak ensue.

I think this form is especially fun for YA. I mean, every kid struggles with identity. These stories put that at the forefront. Will people like me for who I really am? Am I being more myself when I'm "pretending" because I'm not afraid? Do people even know who I am inside? Would they care? Would they tease me if they knew? Would they like me more? Could anyone really love the real me?

Hey, I just met this really cute love story! *Ninja flies by* Oh my gosh! I think that was my love story! It's a ninja? What? How am I going to deal with this?

Love Stories: Blind Love

Happy April Fool's! Mother Nature's being really funny here—it's snowing. In April. *Shakes fist at sky* Don't believe a word out there on the web (except for these ones). Wow, can't believe it's April. Big day for me: resubmissions. Ack. I'm pretending I'm not a mess. And I'm totally writing this blog post first in attempts to put off the dreaded emails I must send.

Blind Love
The Formula: Boy and Girl know each other—don't know they're perfect for each other (or at least one of them doesn't know). Boy and Girl spend a lot of time trying to date other people, accomplish something in their lives, or overcome something. Audience sits back screaming, "Hello! He's/She's RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU!" Finally, after a life-changing moment, Boy and Girl finally realize they were meant for each other all along.

Oh, this one is a hard one to pull off, I think. But when done right, it can be adorable and fun and heartwarming. Doesn't every single person sometimes think, "What if he or she is right under my nose and I don't even know it?" It's an exciting yet frustrating idea. You don't see this one as often because you have to have that right situation—the right characters who are likable enough for the audience to accept their stupidity and obvious oversight. Or you gotta make it subtle enough that the reader doesn't realize the couple is perfect for each other without heading into "reluctant love" areas.

The first movie that comes to mind: 13 Going On 30. They pull off the blind love in a believable way—in a way that makes you accept the flawed heroine. Jenna is thirteen and just wants to be popular. She doesn't realize that her best friend Matt is in love with her. After a terrible birthday disaster, she gets whisked to the future where she's thirty and has all the things she wanted at thirteen. Her life sucks; she learns lessons; she realizes she loves Matt when she can't have him (he's engaged in the future). When she goes back in time, she throws away her popular crowd aspirations and stops taking Matt for granted. Aw. CUTE.

Of course I have to go back to Austen on this one—Emma is another well done "blind love." Emma is really a rich little brat who's all up in everybody's business, but somehow we get sucked into her story because she learns a whole lot from her pathetic attempts at match making. She grows up. And when she finally realizes that Mr. Knightly is much more than a brother-in-law to her, you're happy. Austen also pulls off that "hidden guy" aspect. You don't really realize Mr. Knightly is "the one" for a while—you discover it with Emma, which is exciting and hard to do. Go Austen.

I haven't dared attempt this one yet, but it may be happening very soon. I'm scared. The idea of blind love is very close to my heart. Why? Because it's my own love story. *Sighs dreamily* I knew Nick for almost a year without a single romantic thought. I had friends telling me we should go on a date, and I'd just say, "Nah, Nick's sweet, but he's just a friend." We were pretty good friends, but my friend also had a crush on him so he was "off limits" anyway. I don't know why I couldn't see it. Okay, maybe I do. I'd just gotten out of an emotionally abusive relationship and wanted nothing to do with guys. Then one day, it was like my blindfold was taken off and it was completely and totally DUH. How had I not seen how perfect we were together? It was magical.

Sigh, blind love. Where have you run off to? Oh, there you are...right in front of me.