Contest: With Orange

As promised, I decided it's time for another contest! I'm imagining all of you jumping up and down in excitement, even if you're not.

But you should be, because my contests are ridiculo—I mean—awesome. Remember that Worst Ending Ever one? Yeah, good times.

Your Mission, if you choose to accept it: Write the best (and by best, I mean the one I like most), metaphor or simile using the word ORANGE somewhere within the line. If you can't remember what those are, here's some wiki on metaphor and simile.

I'm not going to give any examples, since that might stunt your creativity.

Yes, multiple entries are allowed. I want to horde as many orange comparisons as possible.

Deadline: Wednesday, September 2nd, 7:00 Mountain Time

The PRIZE: The Grand Prize Winner will receive a custom full color drawing of their choosing. Something kinda like this. There will also be a Runner-up, who will receive a custom black and white drawing of their choosing.

Book Commentary: Paper Towns

Short summary: Q has always loved the enigmatic Margo Roth Spiegelman. But it's not until she disappears that he truly discovers who she was.

Man, it's been a while since I did a commentary. I can't read while revising, and I've been doing a lot of that. If you haven't seen one of my commentaries, I don't rate rate books. I just like to talk about what I enjoyed.

Paper Towns by John Green is, in one word, brilliant. I loved the whole thing. It is definitely for a more mature teen (sexual references warning, for those who aren't fans of that), but the message is just incredible—one I think every teen (and even some adults still) need to learn.

It is a mystery of sorts, so I don't want to talk about the plot and ruin it in anyway. I'll just say it's solid, and the whole thing is filled with humor even though the subject matter is serious. I think that makes for a great balance, otherwise the book would have been a bit too heavy for me and my wussiness.

The characters are vibrant and real as can be. I totally love them and wish I could be friends with them. I also wish/hope as a writer that I can write characters like that. For me, that is always the goal. I just don't know if I succeed or not. Probably not as well as the great John Green, but I'll live.

Just go read it if you haven't.

Saturday Sketch (WINGS Edition)

I've been wanting to draw this scene since I read WINGS, and I could wait no longer. I really enjoyed the book, so I had to put a visual out there before it gets made into a movie and all that.

So this is how I see the MC Laurel, and she's the sweetest thing. I look forward to reading the rest of the series.

Now, it's off to lunch with my awesome husband. Bye!

Answers Part 2: All About Writing

Okay, now that I'm out of the way, let's get on to the writing, shall we? Thanks again to all who asked questions.

Lisa asked: Do you belong to a writer's group? I'd like to join a critique group, but I'm not sure where to find one for YA.
I do belong to a small crit group. We found each other through blogging, and we had a ton in common—mormon, moms of 2, all graduated from BYU, all YA writers. So we started sharing our work, and we became really good friends in the process, too. It happened so organically, I'm not sure how to go about seeking one out, honestly.

Crit groups can be really tricky, and I feel lucky to have found the gals I have. Groups can either help you get to that next level, or they can just confuse the heck out of you. Be careful in picking—you want people who "get you," but also are willing to make you stretch. If a group doesn't work for you, leave. And by "doesn't work," I mean constantly makes you feel like crap. Even after crits, you should feel like there is hope for improvement. They should be encouraging just as much as critical.

How's the agent search coming?
Oh, same old, same old. I'm waiting. Yeah, still. Waiting is a big thing in this business. And it's not fun, but you just have to accept the fact that you will most likely be waiting a while for something to happen. I hope with the fervent hope of Orphan Annie that something will happen soonish, but who knows?

Only two things are certain. When (yes, when, because I'm all about hope here) it does happen, 1) believe me, I will let everyone I am remotely connected to know, so don't worry about me keeping secrets. And 2) I will be celebrating as if I have just won the Oscar for best screenplay. So stay tuned; it's bound to happen sometime in my life.

The Glam asked: Do you think you'll ever write an adult novel?
Short answer: Not really.

Long answer: Maybe someday in the very, very distant future. It's not that I have anything against adult novels—my brain just doesn't think like that. I always, always think about the teen in the story.

For instance, I was just telling you about the post-apoc idea I had. The teen boy is talking about his grandfather, how instead of stock piling food he stock piled guns and people thought he was crazy—until everything went to pot and now he leads their little clan. Why don't I think about his grandfather as the MC? Or even his father?

I have no clue. The first voice that pops into my head is the boy who has to deal with his authority figures ruling this small band of people—if he's happy about it or not, what is expected of him, how he deals with it. Those are the stories that interest me, the ones that my brain first thinks of.

I also use a lot of my own feelings/experiences in my work, and let's face it—I'm 25. I don't know if it's because I'm young, or if it's because I am fascinated by my own childhood, but I don't feel comfortable yet writing people older than me as MCs. I doubt that I really understand what they're thinking/feeling, which makes me, personally, a weaker writer.

That said, I've sometimes thought about doing a crossover series—one where the MCs are in their very early twenties or even freshman in college. But there's no market for that as a debut. So maybe one day when I'm all famous and stuff I can do some crossover. But still, I see that as a slim chance.

Alexa asked: When do you find the time to do all this writing? Since having my baby I barely seem to have any hours in the day. So what's your secret? Do I need to become a ninja cyborg?
Currently, I'm not finding much time to write. But back when I was writing a truck load of words a day, it was because of naps.

My daughter, Kora, is one of those freaky babies who was sleeping through the night—12 HOURS—at 9 weeks. I know, shoot me now. I am fully aware that I am one lucky girl, because my son did no such thing.

Anyway, Kora also slept a lot during the day—she took 2 naps! Both 3 hours long! I know it's not fair! Ben was still napping then, which he doesn't do now, so I had at least 3 hours a day to myself. I also had 3 hours with one kid who likes movies. And they both went to bed at 8 so I had the evening too if I wanted.

So yes, I got a lot done. And it's a good thing, because now I get very little done in comparison. Kora still takes one nap, so I can get in a small chunk of work (2-3 hours) in the afternoon if Ben isn't too demanding. I still have the evening as well...sometimes that's all I have.

I'm on a little break right now, but when I am working I make sure to max my productivity. I set goals—and I'm one of those people who is very motivated by my own goals. If I'm editing, I map out which chapters I need to finish that day and I do them. If I'm writing, I write 1k words minimum, but usually shoot for a full chapter. Sometimes the writing is crap, but I push myself. I've learned that sometimes the best stuff grows out of the crap. You figure it out in the process.

So no, you don't have to be a ninja cyborg, but it sure helps. It also helps to have a miracle napper baby and a slightly obsessive personality...

Storyqueen asked: Have you ever thought of writing something that wasn't based in fantasy?
Short answer: Yes, yes I have.

Long answer: I enjoy contemporary YA fiction. I just finished Paper Towns and it was freaking brilliant. One of my favorite books of all time is The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian. But like my answer to the adult fiction question—I don't instantly think in contemporary fiction.

I do have a few stories brewing in my head that are straight, no-crazy-creatures YA fiction, but I personally don't feel like I'm ready to tell them. The main reason for this is that they would be largely based on my own experiences as a teenager, a la Sherman Alexie.

And while I am so flattered that you have enjoyed the junior high/high school experiences I've shared on the blog, I just don't know if I'm mentally prepared to face that much of my life as a novel, you know? Even those small bits dredge up a lot of emotions—ones I channel into fantasy so that I can cope with them.

Also, I just love fantasy/sci-fi. I love to read it and write it. I like different worlds—I like being initiated into them. And I love that when I close the book at the end, I can still imagine that world and all the different stories that can go on within it. Ultimately, I think this is why I prefer fantasy to contemporary fiction. While I admire and enjoy contemporary fiction, when I finish the book it's done. The world in which it takes place is my own, and I don't get to hang on to the story through my imagination as much.

When stories come to me, they often have those elements built right into them. Even as a kid I had a wild imagination, and world building satisfies a kind of creativity that I don't personally find in straight contemporary fiction.

So yes, I love to escape and I'm proud of it.

And I truly believe you can make escapist fiction "deep" in its own right, and I strive to do so. I think you can explore tough topics in a very non-threatening way. I mean, when it really comes down to it, Relax, I'm a Ninja is about what a mistake it is to think you know everything about a person based on what you see. No one is ever who they seem to be. The best fantasy and sci-fi make you think.

Rachel asked: I have a friend who has written some children's books but doesn't even know where to begin to try to get them to an editor. Any tips I can pass along to her?
Yes, I have a few tips.

1. She needs an agent. Most publishing houses won't look at your work unless it's submitted by an agent. Agents are awesome people—they know the book industry and they can negotiate better contracts for you. They can also help you improve your book before submission. How do you get an agent? You send query letters. How do you write a query letter? With great care.

2. Find a crit group. To be honest, it takes a lot to get published, and it's hard to know how well you write without an outside opinion. It would be wise to have others read her work before she seeks publication. And by others, I mean actual writers who write in her genre—not mom or husband or best friend. You want your work in tip top shape before you seek out an agent.

3. If you really, truly want it, never give up. Publishing is not easy. It will not happen over night. The business is slow and very not like the whirlwind dream that the media portrays it as. You can find success, but it takes a lot of work and determination in the face of rejection (sometimes a constant stream of soul-crushing rejection).

But it can be the most rewarding thing in the world. For me, it has been, even though my soul has been beaten several times. I've grown so much, and you have to see that as success. Because seriously, most of the time the money is not good...or even present.

4. For much better advice than I can give, see this FAQ.

And that concludes this rather long Q&A session! Thanks again for all the questions. You guys pretty much rock.

Answers Part 1: All About Me

Since this would be an epically long post otherwise, today I'll be answering the "me" questions and tomorrow I will be answering the "writing" questions. (So, I guess if you want, you may still ask writing questions if you're just dying to.)

Lisa asked: And what's the best book you've read lately?
Gosh, that's always hard to answer. If we're talking a story that's stuck with me and still makes my heart twist up with anxiety every time I think about it—The Hunger Games. If we're talking one that's richly deep and real—I'm currently reading Paper Towns and being blown away. And if we're talking gorgeous prose and an imagined world I'm wildly jealous I didn't create—I'll have to go with The Graveyard Book.

T. Anne asked: I love your Sat sketches, how long do they take approximately?
It really varies. If it's just a simple pencil sketch, no background/scenery, maybe 10-20 minutes. If it's a color like that, 1-2 hours. If it's a black and white full scene, 1-3 hours. If it's a full on color scene, like the one I recently did, usually more like 7-10 hours.

MeganRebekah asked: Why do most stores not carry Diet Mountain Dew Code Red? It drives me crazy!
Oh, they didn't carry them for a while here either! But I've single-handedly made it so all the local stores carry it (at least I like to think that). Try asking them to order it, or when they do, buy it all. Then they'll see people want it and get more.

And if you guys didn't know, Diet Mountain Dew Code Red is the single most incredible diet drink on the planet. Yes, regular mountain dew tastes like, well, you know...pee. But Code Red is like a cherry limeade and it's AWESOME. Seriously, try it. I didn't think I'd like it either until a friend shoved it down my throat—then I was hooked.

Jessie asked: How did you and your husband meet?
We met in a single's ward, so Utah. (For those not familiar with mormon culture, a single's ward is like a congregation but all single people. We have them so people can, uh, get set up and get married. For reals.)

Actually, I wasn't interested in Nick for a while. I think I knew him like nine months before we ever went on a date. I came into the ward having a boyfriend (an emotionally abusive one, actually, which is a story I have not shared here). After a close friend gave me the courage to break up with him, I was just not ready for more dating.

Nick and I both had callings in FHE (Family Home Evening), which is a Monday night event where we get together for a spiritual message and fun activity with refreshments after. We got to be friends, along with the other FHE leaders. It was just fun. I never thought about dating him, especially since my friend liked him.

Then one day I sat next to him at FHE and our arms touched—and something happened. It was like a lightning bolt. Suddenly I was attracted to him, as if I'd been blind the whole time and then I could see how good we'd be together. Nick didn't argue, thank goodness, and my friend said it was okay, though I did feel guilty about it at first. A week later we were dating, and 8.5 months later we were married. We're coming up on the big 5 year anniversary this December. And after 2 kids, a lot of Warcraft, and his unending patience with my writing addiction, I love him more than ever.

Candice asked: Why do all Japanese mythical creatures look like combinations of animals that have no business be crossbred (e.g. snakes and lions, or monkeys and fish)? It's disturbing.
I think you're thinking of the actual monsters, Candice, in which case it makes sense that they're creepy and disturbing. If you think about Western Mythology, we do much of the same thing—griffins, chimeras, minotaurs, fawns, hydras, mermaids, basilisks, sphinx, etc. We're just used to these monsters.

There are actually many Japanese "creatures" that are more human than anything. The Oni, for example, are human-like demons with red or blue skin and horns (hmm, sounds familiar). And the major kami are all viewed as human-like. Such as Ameterasu, the Sun Goddess.

Sara asked: Who is your favorite band?
Wow, that's hard to pin down. It really depends on my mood. If I'm in an energetic/happy mood, I love Hellogoodbye, Metro Station, and Relient K. If I'm happy/chill, I tend to hang out with Missy Higgins, A Fine Frenzy, Ingrid Michaelson, and Colbie Callait. If I'm more, uh, contemplative, I like Snow Patrol, Keane, Coldplay, Secondhand Serenade, or Dashboard Confessional. And if I'm feeling a bit dark, Evanesence. That's a short list.

Bought anything orange/green/purple/brightly colored lately?
Actually, I found a new purple dress for church last weekend! I'm very happy about this. Do you know how hard it is to find a dress that meets all my modesty requirements? Especially in the summer? It must go to my knee, have sleeves, and not reveal too much cleavage. Tall order, but it was met by said purple dress. It's fantastic.

Tammy asked: When are you going to have another baby?
Whoa there, that's a pretty personal question. I mean, talking baby brings up several things I'd rather not talk about on the blog—my sex life, money, and my fertility. Let's talk in person, friend. It's been way too long.

And when can we get together and have Nick make us some curry?
Anytime you want! You two are the busy ones with jobs and such. I'm at home. With kids. Let me know and we'll come visit and cook up some awesome curry. Mmm.

J.T. Wilabanks asked: I'd like to know about one of your favorite anime moments, like the supreme, sending shivers down your spine, wipe a glistening tear drop from your eye kind of moment.
Wow, I could go on forever, but I'll name a few.

First, Evangaleon, when Shinji finds out the Avas are alive. Dude, that twist knocked me off my feet. I was just as freaked out as he was. To learn they were essentially fighting angels with angels—I think that hooked me on "twists."

Second, in Escaflowne, when Hitomi realizes that her dark feelings were making things go bad—that was a big personal eye opener for me. I've always been naturally cynical and anxious. So seeing her change her attitude, have faith that things would work out, and then succeed...that was a huge lesson for me. I try really hard to keep a positive attitude, though sometimes positive is just not breaking down.

Third, Kiki's Delivery Service. Just the whole thing. Growing up, and even now, I really identified with Kiki. I've always been the responsible one—mature for my age and stuff. Watching her grow up, being teased by the other kids and finding solidarity in adults, working for her living, staying true to herself...I saw myself in her a lot. Even her distrust of Tombo. I never trusted kids who acted like they liked me, always thought they were kidding or looking for favors.

Adam asked: Where did you learn to draw?
I've been drawing since I was a toddler. The family story goes: I couldn't have been older than 4 or 5, and I came to my mom pouting after trying to draw something and not being able to do it like I wanted.

"Mom, how come I can't draw as good as you?" I asked.

My mom was, and is, a very artistic person. She took my hands and smiled. "How long have you been drawing?"

"I don't know, not very long."

"How long do you think Mommy has been drawing?"

"A long time?"

"Right. Drawing takes lots of practice. So if you keep practicing, you'll get better and better."

Well, being the great child that I was, I believed my mom and got practicing. I was always drawing or doodling in school, always signing up for art classes when they were available. I was BAD for a really long time, but eventually I got pretty good just like my oh-so-wise mother said. I don't think it was until high school that I considered myself a decent artist. At that time I'd been drawing consistently for around 10 years.

Have you seen Cowboy Bebop? If not, why the heck not?
Oh, for shame, I haven't. I don't really know why. I guess it just never came up on my list of ones to watch. But it is now, thanks you to.

Carrie asked: What is your super secret ninja dojo called, and where do I sign up?
Dude, I'm not giving the name out online! But I think you definitely qualify to get in, so I'll be in touch.

Ask Away

It's about time for another Q&A. Feel free to ask anything you'd like about me, my writing, or whatever else you want to know. I'll come up with an answer, and it'll probably even be truthful.

I'm also thinking about doing a contest soon, so get excited. I'm not sure what kind of contest yet, but writing will most likely be involved, and the prize will be a custom drawing from me. Yeah, I would recommend warming up those fingers now.

Afternoon Nap

I couldn't wait to share this piece. I'll probably have something else done before Saturday anyway.

This is Adrie and Ren from Sealed, and I love them. In total, this took about 10 hours, and I'm very happy with how it turned out. Their story is really close to my heart, though it's different from my other stuff in many ways (third person, 3 povs, grittier, almost purely character driven).

I seem to have two sides as a writer. For the most part, I write fun stories. I mean, they have themes and "depth," but they have a light feel to them. The reader is sure that a happy ending is in order (at least I assume that).

And then every once in a while I get...dreary. I think Sealed is good, but it is not my normal mood. And neither is Death Calls (if the title doesn't make that obvious). Thinking back, my zombie book is like that too, but I won't talk about that because it's embarrassing. That poor, poor book...written so terribly.

That said, I've been surprised that my "dry humor" makes it into everything I write. I reread Sealed a few months ago, and Adrie had her funny moments despite the overall melancholy. I find that fascinating, but I guess that's part of my voice.

I'm curious—do you have "writing moods"? Or do you write in all the same mood? Like my dry humor, what is a key element to your voice?

Creative Outlets

Hey guys! Before I start rambling, I just want to make sure everyone sees Kiersten's announcement in Publisher's Weekly! Yay! (insert happy dance) Except, well, there are no ghosts in Paranormalcy, so they kinda messed that up. I mean, there's A LOT of strange creatures, but not one single ghost. *shrug* So please stop envisioning a teen version of Ghost Busters—not accurate, though an interesting concept in its own right.

Oh, and one more thing: A Fine Frenzy has a NEW ALBUM coming out September 8th! With one of the coolest album titles ever—Bomb in a Birdcage. I'm a fan, and you should be one too. Here's a little preview of its uberness:


Okay, on to the actual post:

After approximately 7 hours of drawing, I'm feeling MUCH better than last week. I didn't get into details, but it was a bit of a mental struggle. It happens. I'm good. No worrying about me.

I'm not done with the picture yet (omg, guys, it's gonna be fantastic), but I'm enjoying every second. You all seemed to respond well to the setting I added with Park Bench Girl, so I'm going to do another "scene-like" picture with color. I'm very pleased with how it's turning out, though the scenery is also adding to the time it takes to finish. Details, like in writing, take a lot of work to get right.

I think Jessie mentioned that it's nice to know I can also draw trees and cars and benches. That made me laugh. I am trained. I'm definitely not the best out there (or even close), but I took a lot of art classes growing up. I passed the AP art test twice in high school. I know my perspective, lighting, foreshortening, etc. But I do tend to do a lot of portraits, mostly because they help me visualize my characters. I save the "action" for the books, though I am fully capable of drawing it.

Well, that, and it takes a lot of time to do a full scene, like I said. I'm about 7 hours in on this one drawing, and I'm guessing I have at least 3 hours to go, perhaps more. But I don't mind, it's so cathartic for me to create with no strings attached, which is why I have no desire to draw professionally. I need that outlet to stay free of pressure.

Not to say that writing isn't an outlet, but I see it as my job, you know? I work at it in a different way from drawing. I enjoy both, but I go to drawing when I'm stressed. I've been drawing a lot lately.

I think creative outlets are very important, whether its writing, drawing, music playing, dancing, decorating, quilting, etc. Every human has the need to create something. I think it's a big part of what makes us happy, what makes us feel important, what connects us to other people. It's a way of sharing ourselves.

Besides writing, what are your creative outlets? Or is writing enough for you?

Sunday Make Up Sketch

I meant to post this yesterday, but I forgot to email it to myself after I scanned it at my mom's. So I got home, was ready to post, and promptly thunked my head to the table when I realized what I'd done. (10 Points of Awesome for me.) So here it is today! Yay!

She's cute, huh. I don't know who she is, but I like her style. I wanted to fiddle around with pen and pencil, see what kind of effect I could get. I like it. I may be doing more black and whites this way, but with more detail.

Why Hello There

I know, I've been strangely absent these past couple days. I hope you didn't miss me. Well, I'm sure you didn't even notice, huh. (Just pretend you did, so I can feel like I'm awesome.)

I've been...busy? I'm not sure with what. I mean, yeah, I've written 8k on a new project and edited a few more chapters of the cyborgs. Oh, and I spent today cleaning and organizing and running errands to buy stuff that will help us clean and organize more effeciently...if that makes sense. I'm sick of all this junk sitting around my house!

So I guess it's not a time thing—I've just been really boring.

The writing is also going, uh, weird lately. I started Spork (which I also call Metaforge or The Brothers), got about 30 pages in, and kinda started doubting its merit. And now I'm about 30 pages in on Death Calls and feeling the same way.

This, for me, is strange, especially since I have two alpha readers who've enthusiastically encouraged me to continue with both of them. And deep down I know I love both stories, but writing has been so difficult for me lately. Exhausting.

I think I've hit a little slump.

Have you ever seen Kiki's Delivery Service? Well, if you haven't, you need to go rent it or put it on your Netflix list or whatever. No, I mean it. Right. Now. Kiki's a witch in training who's out on her first year alone. She runs a flying delivery service and it's the most adorable coming of age movie in the world.

Isn't she just the cutest little witch you've ever seen?

Anyway, at one point in the movie, Kiki loses her mojo, so to speak. And that's what I feel like. My magic has slipped away from me, and I'm kinda floundering around trying to find it again. I'm not sure why it left, exactly. But I know it'll come back, I'm just not sure when.

Now excuse me while I go looking for it again. Maybe it'll come back if I feed it brownies.

7 Things You May Not Know

The "Kreativ Blogger" award seems to be going around these days. I've received it from several people, and I just want to say thank you for thinking of me! While I don't pass awards or memes forward, I will participate and offer 7 things about me you may not know. Except some of you might, because we're real life friends or you're my mom, who does read my blog everyday (isn't she great?).

So, here we go:

1. I grew up in the Bay Area (Fremont) until I was 12 and then moved inland a bit to Brentwood for junior high. I was a total Northern Cali girl, so I was pretty horrified when my parents informed me that we would be moving to UTAH. I was just about to start high school! I finally had friends! No fair!

To make matters worse, ninth grade in a lot of Utah school districts is STILL junior high. That's right, guys, I went to 2 weeks of high school in CA and then had to go BACK to junior high. And yes, it was as awful as it sounds.

It was a total culture shock to be in an area that is ridiculously white and religious. And while I obviously am mormon, I was very not like the culture in Utah. I missed the diversity, still do, actually. Though, well, these babies aren't too bad:


2. I've always wanted to write, and here's a little proof. I can't believe it's still there almost 20 years later. So if you ever want to read my first book, head on over to the Alameda County Library.

3. I used to play the flute, and I really loved it, actually. I was first or second chair since I started. I never planned on quitting, but remember that whole moving to Utah thing? Yeah, bands, orchestras, and choirs are actually cool here, so the flute section was full. The band director offered me a position in TUBA, if I wanted. You can imagine what I said.

4. After the flute debacle, I still had an elective to fill. I ended up in drama. I wasn't so great, but I liked the drama kids. They were funny. This led to my involvement in painting sets, what with my artistic background. I was a techie in high school, eventually becoming the Art Director. I decorated and painted the sets for the plays/musicals we did.

5. My grandmother died when I was eight, and it has had a big impact on my life. I wrote a short story about that here on the blog a while back: Golden Raspberries & Heaven. The older I get, the more I realize how much that event shaped my life. I probably think about death more often than I should. In fact, Sealed especially has huge themes surrounding mortality. And my newest project, Death Calls, obviously explores how losing loved ones changes everything.

6. I told both my Prom dates (two different years) that they were taking me. They didn't argue, so that was nice. I think they were actually planning to ask me and I beat them to the punch. I was never one for ceremony.

7. I really like cars, especially old school American muscle cars. There's a car show this weekend that I'm really hoping to go to. I don't know a ton about them, but I like to think I'm not too oblivious for a girl. I did quite a bit of research for one of my books, since a character collected them. They're just so pretty! My favorite is the first generation Camaro (1967-1969). I would learn to drive stick for that car (yes, I can't drive stick, but that story could be a post of its own).

The brand new Camaro is pretty hot too:

The End.

Boxes

When I was a teenager (heck, even part of college), I felt like I constantly had to define myself as different. I was a unique human being! People had to see that! The world was made up of boxes—ones I either didn't want to be in or felt like I didn't belong in. I didn't realize it, but I made a lot of decisions based on how I wanted people to perceive me.

A few examples:

1. I didn't wear clothes that were too nice or hip. Not because I didn't like them, but because I thought that they would make me look like I was trying to be cool. And I didn't care to be cool at all, because the "cool people" weren't nice to me. Another part of me worried my friends would laugh at me if I wore stuff like that.

2. I resisted pop culture like the plague—New Kids on the Block, N'Sync, Britney, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Princess Bride, Harry Potter, Twilight, you name it. If it was "in," I was out for the sole purpose of resisting the majority.

3. I searched for things that would make me weird, just so I could stand out. I think that's why I gravitated to anime, because when I was a teen no one was into it. Now, well, it's gaining rampant popularity (was I ahead of the times or what?). While I do genuinely love it now, I'm not sure I ever would have got into it if I wasn't trying so hard to be different.

It wasn't until my last couple years of college that I finally learned how ridiculous this trying to be different thing was. I broke down and read Harry Potter, after years of resisting the phenomenom. And, well, I loved it! I also felt really stupid for refusing to check it out just because everyone else was raving about it.

I started looking into other things I never touched just because they were popular. No, I'm still not a fan of N'Sync, but I discovered I honestly did like a lot of things that other people did. Twilight was pretty cool. High heels made me look hot! And, for shame, Friends was funny.

For a while, I felt a little ashamed. I didn't advertise the fact that I was a rabid fan of America's Next Top Model or American Idol. I mean, I was supposed to be different! And my weirdo rebellious side kept accusing me of selling out.

Then I had this epiphany while watching What Not to Wear (no, I'm serious). I was home with my newborn son, and there wasn't much on during the day. I'd taken to watching the makeover show because it was fun to see how much the participants changed.

Well, one episode had this "nerd" chick, who really resisted changing her clothes because she didn't want people to think she was some "bimbo." Stacy and Clinton told her that her clothes can't make her into a bimbo, and that she has just as much right as any "beautiful" girl to look nice. Her personality would shine if she embraced who she was instead of trying to stuff herself into category (i.e. non-bimbo).

A light bulb flipped on for me. It was the first time I realized that trying to keep myself out of some boxes was only putting me into others. And there was only one way to not be in a box at all—to be completely myself. My love of high heels and, gulp, High School Musical included.

But could I really admit those things? I was supposed to be that anime-obsessed, poptart-loving, eccentric girl!

You might think it's liberating to learn that being yourself is the only way to truly be different, but it's actually more on the terrifying spectrum. You discover that being in a box was comfortable; there were other people in that box that you identified with and supported you. Being yourself can be, well, lonely, can't it?

It might feel like that at first, especially when old friendships fade. But I promise new ones form—ones much stronger because they like you. All the pieces of you, even the parts that secretly hate The Office though a lot of intelligent, funny people think it's great (crap, secret's out).

And the best part of just being yourself? You don't have to try to define yourself by what you are or aren't. You are just you, and you actually feel unique.

Imagination Candy

I love to research. I think that might be one of my favorite parts of writing. I've always loved to learn. Writing allows me to keep doing that despite having two crazy kids and not being in school.

I could tell you more than you probably want to know about Pacific pearl culturing, trebuchets, or the Greek Underworld. Don't even get me started on the Norse origins of elves.

Research is like candy for my imagination. On the rare occasion that I don't have a single idea floating around in my brain, all I need to do is open up a book (or wiki) and start reading. That always gets the creative juices flowing.

And what better thing to get the ideas going than Japanese mythology? Oh man, I can't even tell you how excited it makes me. Just take a look at this list! And that's just for starters. (I know, I know. I shouldn't be thinking about sequels, but I can't help myself. Beware of Ninjas would be SO COOL. )

The Japanese pantheon ranges from the ridiculous (Rokurokubi—a person, usually female, whose neck can stretch indefinitely) to the down right creepy (Nikusui—a monster that appears as a young woman and sucks all of the flesh off of its victim's body). I find it all entirely fascinating, and the images it conjures in my head would be awesome for what I've already established in Relax, I'm a Ninja. Especially the Goryo—vengeful spirits of the dead.

It's just been way too long since I did some good research, so I'm gonna drop the projects and let my poor brain recharge with tengu, kappa, samurai, oni, and all sorts of other things I love. Like, say, Betobeto san— an invisible spirit that follows people at night, making the sound of footsteps.

Ice Cream and Cake WITH NINJAS!

So this is why I love my husband. Here I am in this stressed/panicked state of awfulness, and he sends me this:



The commercial made me happy. This makes me squeal with joy (like a tween girl meeting the Jonas Brothers, even), not to mention dance. Excuse me while I go find some orange to wear while I groove out.

Instincts

Do you guys believe in writing/revising instincts? Or is the need to keep a character or scene or whatever just being weak?

If you'd asked me that a month ago, I would have told you just to let go. Now, I'm not so sure.

I've done a lot of revisions this year on Relax, I'm a Ninja and Void. I've cut characters I thought were important. I've cut massive chunks of plot I thought were necessary. And you know what? Most of it wasn't that hard emotionally. The work sucked, but I knew the book would be better for it. I am wildly happy with the results.

Hammered has been a different story. There are some revisions I've done that I love, but I've been putting off the rest of my planned revisions since May. Something just...didn't feel right about cutting this character.

So, is that instinct or am I copping out?

I really don't know. But I do know that I need to reread this book and really think about why one of my readers had a problem with her. I honestly can understand how she could be cut, but then I'm also not sure I should take it that far. Perhaps this character's role needs to be changed. Perhaps there are too many scenes with her, and she needs to be downplayed a little. Perhaps there are several other characters that need to be chopped so she stands out properly.

I just...I need to think about it. Because I've axed a ton of characters, and this is the first time my fingers won't let me do it. That has to mean something, right?

Ice Cream and Cake!

I'm not kidding—every time this commercial comes on I involuntarily start dancing and giggling. For some reason, I find it way more hilarious than it is. Now I'm spreading the love (or torturing you, whichever).

Saturday Sketch 5.3

Yes, I'm still having rampant fun with photoshop. Must buy...must sell organ on black market so I have enough money to buy. Dang it. I guess hiking to my mom's will have to do for now.

This is Coral Starfall and Luke Abbot from Void. Have I mentioned that I have a freaky obsession with this project? I think I have. Well, it's still in full force. I've edited/rewritten/revised/hacked this thing to bits, and yet I just keep coming back for more punishment.

A lot of times I honestly don't think it's any good, but there's just something about it that I love. I also don't think it would have a great chance at selling. Harry Potter kinda took that whole market on wizards, even if mine are totally and completely different. It might be that Coral's story is really about a girl fighting to be herself and trying to find acceptance about who she is. I guess I've fought that fight a lot in my life, and I admire her strength despite her "flaws."

I wish I could tell every kid out there to be proud of who they are and to fight for their right to be that person. Our individuality is such a gift.

So yeah, I'll probably print Void out here soon to give it a serious scrub down. I think that'll be draft...10? 11? Something like that. I'm finally, finally happy with the plot and character arcs, but I'm thinking I can still cut at least 5k in wordiness. I must polish it to sparkly brilliance so I can query—wait, no, can't query. Must polish it so...so I can feel good about it? Yeah, I guess so.

Kiersten Really Is That Awesome

I am beyond ecstatic to announce that my best friend Kiersten White has gotten herself a three-book deal with HARPERTEEN.

(It would be appropriate to imagine me jumping around wearing all orange clothing right now.)

That's right, people, Kiersten is that awesome. It's about time people take notice of what I've known for, like, forever. Go over and congratulate her.

Kiersten has been one of my closest friends since we met May of 2008. We were both new writers trying out that whole query scene, except she was WAY better than me and I knew it. But she was nice and helped me out a lot with my bad writing. And she never said out right that it was bad—she's polite like that.

She also has a myriad of skills, like cleaning up throw up, getting ignored because she looks like she's still sixteen, and pushing a tank of a double stroller wherever she goes.

Oh yeah, and she writes really incredible books.

Books that I get to read first. Neener neener.

In all seriousness, she is one of the most caring, intelligent, and diligent people I know. I love her to death, and I am grateful everyday that she still talks to me. I have been known to be a little...crazy. But she's put up with all my whining and drama patiently and with a much needed dose of humor, even when she was the one who almost died. I don't know what I would have done without her this past year.

So congrats, Kierst, and you better soak it all in. You deserve every little piece of this whether you think that or not. I'm drinking Dr. Pepper all next week in honor of you, and I swear I'm gonna figure out how to take you to dinner asap.

21 Guns

Not a ton to say today. I'll just give you a few descriptors of my mood: antsy, tired, excited, bored, inadequate, crazy, and yet ridiculously happy. Yes, I'm a bit of a split mess.

But I love Green Day, and this song from their new album reminds me of Gil and Adair for some reason. Well, maybe their world politics. They're not quite so depressing.

The Miracle of Democracy

I really wanted to be funny today, but I guess I'm not in a funny mood lately. I mean, just this morning the Ninja Princess (my 18 month old daughter) found her brother's yogurt and smeared it all over herself. And then after I bathed her, she climbed onto the table and poured her brother's apple juice all over herself. The Ninja Princess is faster than lightning, man, and as quiet as falling snow.

Yeah, I'm not feeling funny. I hate getting owned by my own kids. My reflexes are slipping.

But I am feeling deeply grateful for democracy, and in particular for George Washington. I know, what? I've been reading a lot about revolutions and such for my WIP, since it's a major theme in the book, and I am in awe of the miracle that is a democracy—the miracle of those with enough integrity to make it happen.

Do you know how often revolutions fail? No really, the most probable thing to happen after a revolution is a military coup, followed by some kind of dictatorship. The French Revolution in particular just baffles me in its awfulness (which is also why I'm throwing a French spin on my steampunk). Talk about what not to do. No wonder people welcomed Napoleon...sheesh.

Reading about all these so-called revolutions has given me a deep, enduring appreciation for the American Revolutionaries who didn't usurp power—those who didn't want the power at all. What a miracle that these men became our first leaders!

Think about how easy it would have been for George Washington to rule the country however he wanted. Seriously, they asked him to be king! People would have laid down their lives for him. They loved him. If he wanted, he could have had all of America in his hands.

But he didn't.

He gave this country to the people. He set an unbelievable precedence—a man who didn't take the power offered him. Incredible.

Was he tempted? I don't know, but I'm excited to explore how a man so disinterested in power can end up having so much of it and still resist its allure and step away. Right now, he's my hero. And I have a feeling he would think that was ridiculous, which makes him all the more amazing.

I'm discovering my reluctant MC might be more like Washington than he wants to be. It makes me scared and excited at the same time. Seeing how a character will grow is always like that for me. It's like looking at your little boy sitting upside down on the couch and realizing that one day he'll be a man.

The Guide

This is a companion post to "Getting 'There.'"

I left a major concept out of yesterday's post, mostly because it deserves a whole post of its own. See, the hike to publication isn't hiked alone. There are people all along the way.

There are the encouragers and also whiners, and everyone in between. There are people ahead of you on the trail and people behind. For the most part, the trail people are very helpful, but there are a few who see you as competition and would never dream of lending a hand to those behind. But if you're really lucky, you'll meet the most important person of all:

A Guide.

Some of you mentioned wishing there was a map out of that forest, but unfortunately there just isn't. The Forest of Lost Minds is really more like a labyrinth, its paths changing daily. It's hard to get out, even for those who've made it out before. That's why a Guide can be a life saver.

As far as I know, you can only have one Guide. I've had a TON of people help me along the way—Kiersten and Renee, Sara and Kasie, Michelle, my amazing mom, my wonderful husband, even my enthusiastic in-laws. But none of these people were my Guide.

Your Guide is the person who effectively rips you out of the Forest of Lost Minds. You trust them; you know they have more experience than you do. You know that they've been down the road before. So when they tell you to climb up that rock, you are sure it's the right thing to do, even if it still sucks.

The key to a Guide is trust. If you don't completely trust the person's opinion, then they can't be your Guide because you won't accept the possible harsh words. Your Guide will make you stretch further than you want to go, but they will always be encouraging. And they will definitely have more faith in you than you have in yourself.

Quick example: My dear friend Kiersten and I have walked the writing path for a while, but we were, for the most part, side by side. I could offer her good advice, help her as much as she could help me, but I didn't know the road ahead. I could never be Kiersten's Guide. Thankfully, Stephanie was. And it was extremely rewarding to watch my friend grow under Steph's brilliance.

As a lot of you know, I have a Guide. A flipping incredible Guide, one that I totally trust and has made me grow as a writer in ways I didn't know I could. I'm so grateful. I would've spent a lot of extra time in the forest otherwise.

I hope you can all find a Guide someday. It's not that they make the journey easy, but they ease the way because they give you some peace of mind. You don't have to doubt your direction. You know you're in good hands.

Getting "There"

I am not the writer I was last year—just as much in skill as in mentality. This is really hard to explain, but I'm going to attempt to do so as best as I can without totally sticking my foot in my mouth.

So there's this place in a writer's journey, one every writer has to get to before they can take their work to the next level, to publication level, in my opinion. I'm going to call this place Lookout Point, and will be using a rather cheesy hiking analogy in hopes of making some shred of sense. I will also use pictures from my hike to Silver Lake last year, just to ease the journey:)

Lookout Point is not the top of the mountain—it's at a different spot for every writer. And sadly, I'm starting to believe that for some people there may never be a Lookout Point, or it might be very late on the journey. I don't know which.

Hiking, like writing, takes work. You have to put one foot in front of the other to make it up a mountain. There are smooth parts and steep parts, rocky and narrow. But I think that we can agree that along every part of the path a hiker is working. I truly believe this is the same for writers—we are all working the best way we know how. Whether you've just started your first novel, or you happen to be on your seventh, you are doing your best. At least that's how I've always felt.

But looking back at my own writing hike, I now know that my best from last year was literally not good enough. Even my best from January wasn't good enough. I didn't understand it then, but I do now.

See, sometimes in hiking your view is a bit limited. At least around my mountains they are. The scenery is beautiful, don't get me wrong, but sometimes you can't even tell you're hiking a mountain. It's just a trail, the distant sound of a river in the background, the promise of a lake at the top of the mountain.

And though everything is pretty, you can't really tell how close you are to the top. Your legs are getting tired, so you take a break, wondering if you can make it. What if the path is longer than you guessed? It's already getting a little steep. What if it just gets steeper? What if you physically can't make it to the top? Should you turn back? It would be easier now than later.

That would be the Point of No Return. You reach this point before Lookout Point. It's the point in your journey where you decide if you're in or out. Are you really going to be a writer? Are you going to stick it out no matter what might lay ahead?

I'd piddled around with writing my whole life—I didn't reach the Point of No Return until October 2007. After I knew my first book wasn't good enough, I had a choice to make. In or out? Well, you can guess what I decided.

So once you pass the Point of No return, things get harder, just like you had a feeling they would. The trail gets steeper and steeper. And just when you think it can't possibly get any more steep without becoming a wall—it does. You're breathless. You have to stop for breaks more than it feels like you're actually going forward. You wonder why you ever decided to pass the Point of No Return in the first place. It's not fun, and what do you have to show for it save a bunch more trees? And who knows how far away you still are?


Welcome to the Forest of Lost Minds. In writing, you know you're here if you're seriously wondering why you once said you liked to write. Don't worry, we all pay visits to this forest. It's where bad crits roll in by the dozens, where you find out that writing is more work than you ever dared to fathom. It's where your very soul can be broken in two. Sadly some people are too afraid that the forest never ends. They set up camp and try to fight off the harpies who burn manuscripts and ignore the whispering spirits that tell them to keep going.

But for those who do make it out of the Forest of Lost Minds, there's something grand waiting.

A view.


Just when you think you're about to break. When your legs can't go another step. When you can't possibly fix your book. Somehow the forest opens up and for the first time on the enitre journey you can see. You can see what's behind you. You can see everything around you. And most importantly, you can see what's ahead.


This is Lookout Point.

I can't tell you how to get there, but I can tell you that you know when you've made it. And once you get there, you can see who has and hasn't. For me, it was February 2009. The forest cleared, and suddenly everything about my writing (both what was working and what wasn't) opened up. I could see the big picture, the small pieces, the characters, and how it should come together. I didn't even know I was blind before.

Getting to Lookout Point doesn't mean things will be easy. No, more than likely, it will only get harder. It did for me. But your perspective changes. You understand the work—why it takes so much effort, how much more you'll have to put in. You see the mountain peak. You see how far you've come. You are willing to put yourself through more steep climbs, even if you can't stand to look at that MS one more time.

Just like a hiker can watch themselves approach the end, I can see where I'm headed now. That means a whole lot of Sprints of Anticipation, where you get these huge boosts of adrenaline, determined to make it to that lake at the top. It's still a long road though, with a lot of switchbacks to fake you out. I've learned that from almost every writer ahead of me on the trail. Expect the unexpected.

I know the end will be rewarding, just like it was to reach the little lake in the middle of nowhere.

But it also won't quite be the end. There's always another mountain to climb.

(View from the lake. So much for "the top," huh.)

So wherever you are on the journey, I wish you luck. Keep going forward, and whatever you do, don't set up camp in the Forest of Lost Minds! That place bites.

Bonus Sunday Sketch!

As promised, yet another sketch from me this week. I'm on a roll. I'm going to have to get a new sketchbook at this rate. I'm running out of pages fast.

This is Adele McDonnal from what would be the sequel to Void. I wrote about her here. She's the girl you love to hate, you know? Man, I so love/hate her. She's like 007, but a witch. Mysterious, confident, practical, hot, and powerful. Coral is horrified by how blatantly she hits on Luke. It gets pretty ugly. Let's just say there's a magic vs. magi-tek fight because of it.

In other news, me and Spork are officially dating now. It bought me chocolates the other night after I kicked inner editor to the curb. Then it held my hand this morning. So sweet, huh. It was so shy at first, but it's really coming out of its shell now.

Saturday Sketch 5.2

Okay guys, I've become obsessed. Now that I've figured out how to do backgrounds in photoshop, I'm a drawing machine! I can't help myself—look at how AWESOME this looks! This is the best artistic thing to happen to me since Prismacolor pencils.

This is Lizelle Cartier from my new WIP Spork (yes, that's a working title). She's the absolutely beautiful barber's daughter—Gil is hopelessly in love with her, but can't seem to get words out in her presence. It's pretty cute. I thought she was going to play a very minor role in the story, but it turns out she's much more adventurous than I gave her credit for. I'm extremely excited about this.

Also, stay tuned for tomorrow! I have ANOTHER drawing to share! I told you I was out of control. I already showed you that one of Troy & Danie earlier this week. I might be doing much more in the next bit.

Rusty

Dude, I'm so rusty at this writing thing. I'm not happy about it at all. The last time I took a break this long, I pumped out a book in 15 days. Well, I can tell you for sure that ain't happening this time. I've changed as a writer since then.

First off, I feel totally out of practice. Writing is NOT like riding a bike—it takes constant dedication to put out good work. I forgot about that a little bit, and I'm kind of freaking out. Seriously, I wrote the first chapter of "Spork" and it just felt WRONG. Then I made Kiersten read it and she went "Hrm." When Kiersten "Hrm"s, that's her polite way of saying, "Wow, that sucked."

It totally sucked though, and I could feel it. That's the one good thing about editing a ton—you get really good instincts for when you are going the wrong direction. I'd fallen into all my old bad habits, like, from WAY back. So I deleted the whole six pages and started over. I'm happier with the result, for the most part.

I think another big reason for my slow and fear-ridden start would be the sheer amount of editing I've been doing lately. I've become of total perfectionist, guys! It horrible. That dang inner-editor takes longer and longer to shut up. I'm terrified that I'm doing it wrong, that the story will suck, and blah blah blah. No, you don't have to slap me, I've already done it myself.

I know I'll get over it. When, I'm not sure, but I will. I'm starting to remember why I liked Gil and Adair so much in the first place. It's just taking a while to get back into everything I'd planned, and it's incredible how stupid something can sound when you let it sit around for a while. Sigh. It's like when you repeat a word over and over again and it ends up sounding foreign by the end.

Like, say, crazy. Crazy. CRAzy. CraZY. Cuh-RAZY. CRRRAZY! CraZZZZYYYYY!

See what I mean?

What? I've totally lost it? Well, maybe. Turns out that draft 14 might just be my temporary breaking point—my brain is totally fried. It's like that tootsie pop commercial. How many licks does it take? Well, now you know how many drafts it takes to fry my brain.

I think I've just inadvertently proved the extreme duality of a writer's life. On one side, you have to be full of creativity and out-of-the-boxedness to write that first draft. On the other, you have to be a heartless editor willing to murder that poor first draft. I'm feeling very Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde lately.

We Have a Winner

So I started writing a new book yesterday. Yup, you read that right. What did you expect!?!? I got this NEW idea, and then I remembered that when I don't write my brain floods with extra ideas and I just don't have room for that! So I have to write to stop the insanity...or at least some of it.

I finished Transparent on June 24th and haven't written since then, so I made it a phenomenal 6-ish weeks not writing. Sad, but that's the longest I've made it. So it's kinda pathetic that I'm caving so "soon," but I'm also proud that I made it that long.

Without further ado:

Adam wins! He totally called the early caving. Lois got close too.

I haven't decided on a prize yet, if you have any requests I will comply if possible. I'm thinking something ninja-y. (And, uh, sending you the FIRST prize you won. Man, I suck at the prize thing.)

One thing I learned from this—you guys either 1) have too much faith in me or 2) don't know me too well. I'm inclined to think it's the first one, since you are all so nice and tend to compliment me WAY too much. Thanks for thinking I have that much self-control—but I really don't.

And now, back to daydreaming about Chapter 2...

Cyborg Bonanza

So I finished my ninja revisions today! And it's a good thing too, because I have cyborgs on the brain (if you couldn't tell by this pretty freaking awesome picture I also finished today). The sparkles make me happy.

Though Danie is the main character in Hammered, I've been thinking a lot about Troy, the boy who comes in and kinda turns her life upside down. He's so confident and dedicated and a total ham. I love him. This song—The Man That Can't Be Moved by The Script—really reminds me of him, because he'd totally do that. So to help with my writing itch, I thought I'd do a short about when he first gets his metal arm.

There, But Not
Before I open my eyes, I know where I am. The hospital. And I know what happened. No amount of sleep would remove that night from my mind. The sound of the shells slamming into the deck still echoes in my ears. The lights of Memphis, Eastern America, flash across my eyelids. A flaming shell soars right towards me

I couldn't have survived uninjured. Something suddenly doesn't feel right. It's like a ghost on my shoulder that I can't quite remember the meaning to. I can't find the right words to describe the sensation. But something is...missing.

I shoot up in bed, gasping as the surgery floods my mind. My arm. It's gone. I look down at my shoulder, expecting to see nothing.

But it's still there. I'm not sure how to feel as I look at this arm. I know it's not mine—I can just feel it, even if the fingers curl up in a ball when I think to make them do it. It looks just like mine, feels like it, moves like it. But the ghost on my shoulder says it's foreign, and my eyes fill with tears.

I shut them off with my emo chip. The emotion registers in my files—loss. Why do I feel so empty when I have a perfectly good arm? One that many would argue is better and stronger than an organic limb? Hell, my shipmates will probably say I'm lucky.

But it's not mine.

I always knew being a sailor meant that my limbs would become metal one day, but I didn't understand what that meant until now. I never expected to miss the weakness that came with flesh. But it's like a piece of my humanity is gone—and it's never coming back. The grief hits harder, so I ramp up my emo chip to dull the pain.

I tell myself I'll get used to it. I knew about this sacrifice, and I joined the Navy anyway. This is my duty, and I will accept it like I always have. I lay back down, close my eyes, and determine to shake the ghost off my shoulder.

Perspective from Anxiety

Today is going to get a little personal, but there's been something on my mind and I feel like I need to share it. I think it relates a lot to writing, so it's not like I'm going completely off track.

As I've grown up (ya know, my big 25 years of knowledge), the more and more I've learned that I really know nothing. I laugh about how at 18 I honestly thought there was a perfect guy out there. I shake my head about how at 11 I was positive that I was adopted. And I hang my head in embarrassment for thinking, at 5, that my dad was Mexican just because he could speak Spanish.

Among the many false things I thought, I was positive that my mother was spoiling my younger siblings rotten. As the oldest, all I could see were the differences in how she treated me compared to my siblings. (Imagine, if you will, some serious teen whining going on here.)

And then McKenna was born.

Kenna is our caboose. I was 15 when she was born, and her presence in our home has taught us all a lot. If it weren't for her, I don't think my family would understand itself as much as it does now.

Pika (my nickname for Kenna) is smart, observant, thoughtful, and ultra aware of how life works. As a baby, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say she was strong-willed. The tantrums—wow. I won't talk about them here because I know it will embarrass her, but let me give you one visual: Disneyland + TWO Princess Dresses + Running out of store with dresses pre-purchase = 1 hour tantrum, portion of which was spent in a fenced-in grassed area.

It wasn't a normal tantrum, ya know? She wasn't trying to exert her control—it was more like a panic over having no control. I think that was the first time it really sunk in that my sweet Pika wasn't your average kid. She would lose all awareness (sometimes still does) during those episodes. There's this need in her brain for things other people don't get.

Kindergarten was the real eye-opener though. My mom literally HAD to go with her—the whole day. She would flip out otherwise. Her sleeping patterns grew more and more erratic. She stopped eating normally. The smallest thing out of order, the littlest plan gone awry, the wrong brand of something would send my sweet Pika into this strange panicked tantrum. People said Pika was spoiled, that if my mom was harder on her she would get over it. Believe me, my mom tried that route. It made it worse. A lot worse.

No, there was something else going on. I remember when my parents first considered therapy. I honestly thought they were a little crazy. Therapy? Why can't you just train her to stop acting like that? I, like many people out there, didn't understand. And I just want to tell my parents how strong and amazing they are for having the courage to go that route.

McKenna was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and mild OCD when she was 7 years old.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this, here's a definition from the Anxiety Disorders Accosiation of America: Generalized anxiety disorder is characterized by persistent, excessive, and unrealistic worry about everyday things. People with the disorder, which is also referred to as GAD, often expecting the worst, even when there is no apparent reason for concern.They anticipate disaster and are overly concerned about money, health, family, work, or other issues. Sometimes just the thought of getting through the day produces anxiety. They don’t know how to stop the worry cycle and feel it is beyond their control, even though they usually realize that their anxiety is more intense than the situation warrants.

A wonderful family therapist taught McKenna that her anxiety will never go away, but that there were ways to cope with it. She got to go to a children's group session, where she met other kids who were going through the same things. Finally, she didn't feel like she was alone.

And more than that, we all realized that, in some degree, we had anxiety as well. Two of my family members went to therapy, and we all gained a deeper understanding of why we act the way we do.

I personally realized that my mom wasn't "babying" my siblings—they just had different needs than I did. I don't have as much anxiety, but I have had panic attacks. I didn't know that was what they were when I was younger, but looking back it now makes sense why I literally shook and then proceeded to pass out during my first talk at church. Or why I hid from a boy all night because he asked me to dance and I couldn't handle it.

I've gained a serious amount of perspective from this experience.

First off, I didn't realize that other people don't experience life the way I do. Some people are totally chill for real! Sure, they get nervous, but not so nervous that it feels like they're submerged 1,000 feet underwater in a small glass tube surrounded by sharks. There are people out there who are totally fine meeting new people, travelling to new places, jumping out of air planes. I can barely imagine this "laid back" attitude. I overthink just about everything. Sometimes just the thought of "introductions" makes me want to crawl into bed.

Second, I learned that there are a lot of people out there that have no understanding or compassion for those who deal with mental roadblocks like GAD, OCD, and depression. They just don't get it because it is too far out of their own perspective. I've heard things like:

"Just stop worrying about it."

"Do something that makes you happy."

"She's just spoiled."

"You need to toughen up."

"It's not a big deal."

"You don't have to be (insert disorder) if you don't want to."

Here's the thing—you never stop having GAD or OCD or depression. Just like there are people out there who are genetically susceptible to addiction for their whole lives, those with anxiety will never stop being that way. It's genetic. It's permanent. Yes, you can learn coping mechanisms and there are some medications to dull those feelings, but there's no "cure." So if you don't "get it," please don't say any of those things. Because seriously, you don't get it.

Third thing I've learned, telling a person with GAD to "get over it" hurts deeper than you can really understand. Why? Because a person with anxiety knows they are overreacting. Honestly, they do—that's the whole point of the disorder! Pointing it out only makes it worse because then they know for sure that people are noticing their freak out, which is embarrassing, which they then start to worry about, which only breeds more and more worry.

And the last, and biggest thing, I've learned though this experience:

You are allowed to feel how you feel.

So many people with anxiety constantly have their feelings belittled or discounted, and many of them begin to think that the way they perceive life is weak, flawed, broken, etc. They are ultra aware of what others think, and thus begin to think they deserve the lack of compassion and understanding.

This is not acceptable. Reality is a frail thing that changes for each person, changes as we learn, changes as we grow. Could you imagine if I still thought my dad was Mexican when he's actually like half Polish? Yeah...and could you imagine if I was still looking for adoption papers? Or still hunting for a guy who hadn't made a single mistake in his life? I would be the crazy one.

So to all of those out there who suffer from anxiety (or any other mental roadblock)—you are allowed your reality. Don't let anyone tell you it's stupid or wrong or weak. You are strong and courageous. You live your lives despite your trials. You are amazing.

Okay, so where does the writing come in? I used these life experiences in Hammered. Danie has GAD, and I definitely wrote what I knew. I didn't intend to "say something" by giving her anxiety. That's just how she came to me when I wrote the book, and the story is very much about her coping with her inner struggles as it about her facing the outside ones. The more and more I think about it, I'm glad I made a statement of some sort. I hope that someday a teen who deals with anxiety can read Danie's story and connect with it.

And...stepping off soapbox.

Sunday Sketch

I'm not totally sure where yesterday went...oh wait, I do. First I went to a parade with the family. Then Nick and I snuck out for some Japanese food (mmm, bento boxes and sushi). After that we crashed for a little, and then I got to hang out with Michelle and Jenn. So yeah, for the first time in a while, I actually had a LIFE on Saturday. Woot.

But I'm making up for it today. And with Lani Mumea no less! I love Lani. She's a cyborg from Hammered—notice the pathetic attempt at drawing her wrist console and cybernetic chips. I can see it in my head, but man, it's not easy to actualize on paper.

Lani is Danie's best friend, her rock. She's one of the few pure blood Polynesians left in my future world, and her parents are "Culture Preservationists." Lani is patient and understanding about Danie's struggles with anxiety. She's fiecely loyal, and yet she knows just how much she can push Danie to help her grow. She's a total brainiac—one of the few smart enough to be admitted to the Cybernetic Engineering profession track, which oversees the manufacture and implantation of all cybernetic enhancements.

I'm really looking forward to getting back to my revisions on Hammered. I have 10 chapters of ninjas left to line edit, and then it's off for more review. Gulp.