Exactly four months from today, Tracked will hit shelves, and I couldn’t be more excited about it! So I’m celebrating by firing off a double-shot of good news:

1. On the first day of Christmas, my true love (@coachmathmartin) gave to me…the debut present of a lifetime. Seriously. This Tracked-related surprise is made of hand-polished, custom-welded, plasma-cut steel. You can see it below, in Tracked‘s first official trailer! Check it out:

2. Today, we’re also announcing TRACKED‘S OFFICIAL CREW. By joining Phee Van Zant’s circuit rally team, you’ll be the very first to snag book excerpts, custom swag, and exclusive content. And did I mention prizes? Hit the starting line now, and lap the competition by winning BIG. Each month, from now until May, there will be wildcard giveaways and winner’s circle prizes for one-of-a-kind Tracked-related bags, posters, bookmarks, keychains, t-shirts, quote cards, autographed books, skype visits and MORE. There will be loads of opportunities to win, and multiple winners will be chosen for each lap! Trust me. You’re not going to want to miss this race, so join by signing up below!

See you on the starting line. ;0)

Jenny

This might get weird. I’m just gonna put that out here, right up front. I’ve been in an especially reflective mood lately, and I’m pulling this post from that painfully honest well. Because something’s been on my mind. A series of questions, actually…

When did I start second guessing my every move?

Why have I become so self-critical?

When did I turn into a walking apology?

Maybe I’m alone in this. I dunno. But somehow I’ve let toxic self-sabotage become my go-to move. And I need to shake it off. These days, over and over, I find myself thinking…

You’re too emotional.

You’re too easily played.

You’re too naive.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not tough enough.

You’re not good enough at this game.

And on and on and on. Yes, it’s good to reflect and push yourself. And a healthy dose of self-doubt is an extremely useful thing. Without at least a little of it, it’s almost impossible to grow. But too much? Too much, and there’s no room for growth at all. Instead, there’s only room for the echo of self-destructive thought.

I think it hit me tonight, when I was driving home from an especially long day at work. Tonight, on a long stretch of highway, I had the music cranked up as I was listening to Pharrell’s Happy. And you know what? I was singing along and acting completely goofy and un-ironic and just being… unapologetically happy. I was just being myself, feeling good like no one was watching, no apology necessary. And yanno what? It was great.

All that toxic self-talk had completely disappeared.

And on that cloud of joy-for-no-reason, I came home and reread a recent interview with Pharrell in Red Bulletin. And over and over, he talks about emotion and the power of human feeling and how hard he works to listen and stay open to it as he creates new things. Without apology, he acknowledged this empathy and emotion, and his inability to push it aside. He owns it not as a weakness, but as a strength. A strength that fuels everything he does:

“…Always shooting for that and using feeling as a compass. We are so dismissive of our feelings. Yet…our feelings can lead us to do really crazy things or really amazing things…”
“…Steve Jobs. He so genuinely bought that product to the world; it is called a computer. But we are human, and that is what a computer will never be able to do is feel. That is what makes us the superior species of this planet…”

“…When I realized that thinking is not my path and feeling is for me, I started to realize that people are so dismissive about other people’s feelings…Ferraris, jewelry, all of those things mean nothing…You can’t take that when you go. You take your feelings with you and your experiences that gave you those feelings. That is the wealth, man. An experience. The coolest thing that you talk about is your trip where you went and you had a good time. The first thing you talk about it in terms of description, “Man, it was awesome.”

I’m no creative genius like Pharrell, but I think he might be on to something. Maybe our weaknesses are also our strengths. Sure, I should still try to hone my critical thinking skills, but maybe, I don’t need to dismiss the core of who I am. Maybe I need to embrace it. Maybe I need to flip that thought loop until it sounds more like…

I’m empathic enough to care deeply about others.

I’m optimistic enough to stay open to possibility.

I’m forgiving enough to look past flaws and shortcomings.

I’m headstrong enough to take chances.

I’m resilient enough to ante up, again and again.

I’ve got enough heart to know which games really matter.

So if I’m not alone, and you’re feeling self-critical, this is my long-winded way of passing it along to you: whatever your weakness is, no matter what your critical thought loop says, the flaws in you are probably also your biggest strengths. Be you, and no one else. Be you and work it, baby.

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof…

This might get weird. I’m just gonna put that out here, right up front. I’ve been in an especially reflective mood lately, and I’m pulling this post from that painfully honest well. Because something’s been on my mind. A series of questions, actually…

When did I start second guessing my every move?

Why have I become so self-critical?

When did I turn into a walking apology?

Maybe I’m alone in this. I dunno. But somehow I’ve let toxic self-sabotage become my go-to move. And I need to shake it off. These days, over and over, I find myself thinking…

You’re too emotional.

You’re too easily played.

You’re too naive.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not tough enough.

You’re not good enough at this game.

And on and on and on. Yes, it’s good to reflect and push yourself. And a healthy dose of self-doubt is an extremely useful thing. Without at least a little of it, it’s almost impossible to grow. But too much? Too much, and there’s no room for growth at all. Instead, there’s only room for the echo of self-destructive thought.

I think it hit me tonight, when I was driving home from an especially long day at work. Tonight, on a long stretch of highway, I had the music cranked up as I was listening to Pharrell’s Happy. And you know what? I was singing along and acting completely goofy and un-ironic and just being… unapologetically happy. I was just being myself, feeling good like no one was watching, no apology necessary. And yanno what? It was great.

All that toxic self-talk had completely disappeared.

And on that cloud of joy-for-no-reason, I came home and reread a recent interview with Pharrell in Red Bulletin. And over and over, he talks about emotion and the power of human feeling and how hard he works to listen and stay open to it as he creates new things. Without apology, he acknowledged this empathy and emotion, and his inability to push it aside. He owns it not as a weakness, but as a strength. A strength that fuels everything he does:

“…Always shooting for that and using feeling as a compass. We are so dismissive of our feelings. Yet…our feelings can lead us to do really crazy things or really amazing things…”
“…Steve Jobs. He so genuinely bought that product to the world; it is called a computer. But we are human, and that is what a computer will never be able to do is feel. That is what makes us the superior species of this planet…”

“…When I realized that thinking is not my path and feeling is for me, I started to realize that people are so dismissive about other people’s feelings…Ferraris, jewelry, all of those things mean nothing…You can’t take that when you go. You take your feelings with you and your experiences that gave you those feelings. That is the wealth, man. An experience. The coolest thing that you talk about is your trip where you went and you had a good time. The first thing you talk about it in terms of description, “Man, it was awesome.”

I’m no creative genius like Pharrell, but I think he might be on to something. Maybe our weaknesses are also our strengths. Sure, I should still try to hone my critical thinking skills, but maybe, I don’t need to dismiss the core of who I am. Maybe I need to embrace it. Maybe I need to flip that thought loop until it sounds more like…

I’m empathic enough to care deeply about others.

I’m optimistic enough to stay open to possibility.

I’m forgiving enough to look past flaws and shortcomings.

I’m headstrong enough to take chances.

I’m resilient enough to ante up, again and again.

I’ve got enough heart to know which games really matter.

So if I’m not alone, and you’re feeling self-critical, this is my long-winded way of passing it along to you: whatever your weakness is, no matter what your critical thought loop says, the flaws in you are probably also your biggest strengths. Be you, and no one else. Be you and work it, baby.

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof…

Dear Reader,

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m your favorite literary heroine. I know I’m breaking the fourth wall here, by writing to you directly, but it’s come to my attention that there’s been a lot of chatter about me lately. Yes, I’ve seen those major media essays and tweets and blog posts questioning my character. I know you’ve been reading them, too. So you can’t blame me for worrying. I’ve begun to think you’ve lost faith in me. Because you think I’m… weak. So I ask you this…

Define the word ‘strong’?

Does it mean I’m good with a gun or a knife or a bow? Does it mean I can throw a good punch or read someone’s mind? Does it mean I can control the weather or kill with a touch? Given the right circumstances, of course these can definitely be measures of strength, but would you accept others as well?

I ask, because I’m not sure we should make this all about physical might or prowess. Or even surface level externals at all. I think there might be more at play, when it comes down to defining ‘strong.’ In fact, I’m going to stick my neck out and argue that any character–of any gender, of any orientation, of circumstance or station–can be strong. But let’s just go ahead and say ‘she,’ since lately, it seems my fictional sisters are the ones under fire.

Okay, okay. You got me. I’m the one who’s feeling maligned. So instead of ‘she,’ let’s put all pretense aside and say me. Are you ready for my best defense? Here goes:

I am strong because I am the agent of my own destiny. Whether I choose to save the world or kiss someone or both, it is my choice. I may even opt to stay at home and avoid those outcomes altogether. But that’s beside the point. Through agency, I am mighty.

What’s more, I am more than my actions. Circumstances be damned, I am strong. In the best of times, you’ll see me make the most of the choices given; you’ll watch me choose my own path and stumble. You’ll know me as a self-actualized being, flawed in my ascent. But even in the worst of times, when all other choices are denied, when I am shackled and pushed to my knees, I may be just as invincible. My mind is a guarded palace, lock-tight against every manipulation. My infinite heart; barred against cruelty and assault.

Debase me. Dismiss me. Defeat me. Do your worst. Yes, I may bleed or break or cry out. I may flinch or I may stay silent. But make no mistake; none of it means I am weak or signals you have won. No. I may capitulate in the flesh, but you will never have dominion over the kingdom of my inner life. I alone rule it.

 
My spirit will always rise.

So look carefully as you deliberate on your final definition. Because in strength, I have many names. I am Katniss Everdeen and Orleana Price. I am Jo March and Jane Eyre and Hermione Granger and Cameron Post. I am Naomi Leon, Alanna of Trebond and Celie Johnson. I am Scout Finch. Bridget Jones. She-Hulk. Jing-mei. Eleanor Douglas. Nhama. Kittyhawk and Verity.

Judge me as you will and curse my choices, but know that I made them of my own free will. And that, I contend, is the better part of strong.

Sincerely,

Your (Much Maligned) Favorite Literary Heroine

If I had to sum up 2013 in one word, it’d be ‘upheaval.’ I don’t necessarily mean that in a negative way (although this past year was a mixed bag–a couple of man-eating tigers, but a thousand adorable kittens). When I say upheaval, I mean I feel the soil of my life has been under the spade, and things have been thoroughly aerated and upturned.

After all, this year, we sold a house and bought a new one. Moved away from one city and moved into another. While my son made friends at a new school, my husband and I started work at new jobs. Oh, and I finished major revisions on my first someday-to-be-published book. (Turns out revision isn’t the hardest part; it’s the best part, the gateway to the dead dragon’s hoard.)

Most importantly, my father survived a terrible accident, and recovered. Ever since since the crash, he’s treated every day like a gift. He’s alive and up and walking and talking…so let me tell you, I’m so grateful it’s 2014 and he’s still here.

So yeah, a lot of stuff happened. I didn’t stop to let that sink in until today. This has been a great year, a turbulent year, one that’s taught me a lot. I’ve learned that change can be wonderful, and even when it’s not, there’s coffee. I’ve learned that the nurses in rehabilitation hospitals are saints, and that my dad cannot exist without Sonic drinks. I’ve learned that my husband is a miracle, and that his arms are strong enough to hold anything, whether it eight hundred pounds of stress or a metric ton of overblown angst.  I’ve learned that I can wait another year to see my book on shelves, and that setbacks are sometimes not setbacks at all, but blessings in disguise, and that either way, struggle makes all victories sweeter.

I’ve learned that I need to keep learning. Always. Every year. 2013, thank you for rooting out thorns and mucking around and getting under the topsoil. 2014, I’m ready. For seedlings and sleeping buds. No harvest, but plenty of growth. Welcome, new year; let’s get going, no time to waste.

Let’s plant something beautiful.

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Dear V. E. Schwab,

Even though I’m a librarian and ardent reader, these days, I haven’t been able to devour as much as I’ve liked. But once VICIOUS arrived in my mailbox, I just had to flip my desk, shove everything aside and dive in. In fact, that’s why I’m writing. I can’t help myself. Sometimes, you just gotta write a heartfelt fan letter. This is that letter. Forgive me if I embarrass myself.

It’s no secret that I’ve been really looking forward to reading VICIOUS. But with great anticipation, there’s comes something else, too–that little quaver of trepidation. You think, what if I don’t love it as much as I want to? What if I’ve built up my expectations too much? I’d really hung my hopes on this one, V.E. I was praying for a good book. But…I didn’t get one. Instead, I got a MASTERPIECE. A juggernaut, comet-tail rocket ride fueled by sheer brilliance of storytelling.

Truth be told, when I turned the last page of VICIOUS and read the last line, I realized something. I knew, deep in my bookish old bones that this novel was exactly the right kind of book. I felt almost as if it was written just for me. And that is what fiction is supposed to be, isn’t it? A great story swallows us up and refuses to leave us. It’s an unshakeable thing. VICIOUS is that to me.

In it, there are heroes masquerading as villains and villains who wear a hero’s smile, and there’s the realization that both figures duel in half-light inside our hearts. And the story…Oh. My. Cumberbatch, the story. It’s The Prestige and X-Men and The Count of Monte Cristo and so much more. Under the crackling surface of this plot, so many themes and ideas and ideals swirl and spark and burn and I am powerless to resist. I am deliriously in love with the world you created, and you’ve spoiled me for at least the next dozen books. From here on out, I’m going to be comparing novels to this one. I’ll be tsk-ing, pining for Victor (who I love more than I ought) and wondering what Sydney and Eli and Mitch are up to. You have RUINED me, and for that, I thank you.

In case you ever doubted, your readers are here, hanging until the last page. We beg of you; please keep going, we can hardly wait. Your words matter.

Quite Seriously and Sincerely and Not Even a Little Bit Kidding,

JM

Dear  Ms. Bowman,

Yes, it’s true. I did fall in love with Gray’s story from page one. Before it sold. Before the beautiful cover and the incredible buzz. Before it became a book-shaped object on my nightstand. But you probably didn’t know that each time I reread TAKEN, my excitement grew. The characters, the world, the SECRETS! All the twists and intrigue revolving around the Heist continue to thrill me even now, and it’s so satisfying to see your debut polished and shining and ready for the rest of the world.

Gray may have grown up in the sheltered world of Claysoot, but I know his path will lead him farther *and* further from everything he thought he knew. I know his heart is torn and that his dilemmas will only deepen that wound in the pages to come. His journey will put him on treacherous ground, in places dark and desolate, and all the while, I know he’ll be compelled to make choices and take a stand against forces so much larger than himself. I know he’ll learn that friends and foe aren’t always what they seem, and that being human is a choice, and not just a birthright. I know that he and everyone he fights for will never be the same.

Write faster, Ms. Bowman. I can’t wait for readers to take that journey with him.

Sincerely,

Your Constant Reader

Yesterday was crazy and fun. I got some fantastic pro help from Connie (hair artiste!), Ash (make-up goddess!) and Amy (genius photographer at Amy Seiger Photography and Design!). And I ended up w/ a slew of surprisingly non-hideous, lovely shots. These aren’t cropped and edited yet, but there are so many potentials that I kinda need your help.

Out of the following, which do you like the best for business cards, book jacket, promotional use? Honest opinions (and mild fits of heckling) are definitely welcome, my sweet. FYI…The photos will also enlarge when you click on them.

Please let me know which I should use:

1.) 

2.)

3.)

4.)

5.)

6.)

This one isn’t really a choice. I actually just think it’s funny. I was imaginary chair sitting against the wall and the sun was burning directly into my eyes and the result? BURNING THIGHS = SERIOUS ANGST

7.)

8.)

9.)

10.)

So there you have it. Which one do I pick? Thanks for your help!

Last year, my sweet friend Erin Bowman posted about a letter she’d written to herself before her first books sold. She’d used a cool site called FutureMe, which allows you to scribble a letter to your future self and schedule it to arrive in your inbox a year or so later. At the time, Erin’s post was pretty inspiring to me. When I read it, I was in a pretty low place, and I decided a letter to my own future self might be therapeutic.

Today, one year later, that letter arrived. Here’s what PastMe had to say to PresentMe:

Dear FutureMe,

I know you’re scared. I know you feel like this roller coaster ride is just a series of heartbreaking plunges. The black hole of silence while you’re out on submission. The rejections. The ‘I was thisclose but failed again’ despair.

I know.

I’m scared, too. I’m worried that you’re going to quit writing. So listen up. After this next setback, you’ve got to pick yourself up (yes, again!) and rally. Don’t let yourself mope and cry for more than a day. Open that laptop and start something new . Or something old. Or something weird. Whatever. Just get writing.

You’ve come too far to give up on all your dreams. Please, please, please wipe those eyes and try again. If you do…one day, you’ll thank me.

I promise.

Love,
Me

Today, as I read this, my eyes are tearing up for a whole set of different reasons. Good reasons. Joyful reasons. I needed PastMe to kick herself in the pants and keep going. She did, and I’m so glad.

I share this with you, because maybe you’re at the end of your rope. Or maybe you’re almost there, but you just don’t have the heart to keep chasing your dreams anymore. Maybe it’s too heartbreaking. Maybe you’ve all but given up, and the creeping doubt has gotten out of control, and it’s nothing less than a 300 lb. gorilla on your back. If that’s the case, write yourself a letter. Then get back to work.

Write another book. Paint another picture. Sing another song. Get back on the road to wherever it is you’re going. Do it. Your FutureMe will thank you.

Okay guys.

From now on, whenever I spot/hear/read/eat/fall in love with an amazing/inspiring/delicious/brilliant album/book/snack/whatever, I’m going to try to pass on the awesome. I’m calling this new blog/twitter/tumblr series: Addictions You Should Adopt, because…well, we could all use a little more chronic, all-consuming, habit-forming goodness, right?

If you agree, I’m always up for spotting your fave (positive!) addictions at twitter hashtag #AddictionsYouShouldAdopt. Seriously. I want to hear about them. What’s more…throughout 2013 and 2014, I’ll be hosting some neat-o giveaways, and I’d hate for you to miss out!

For now, check out my very first recommendation on ADDICTIONS YOU SHOULD ADOPT. Prepare to fall hard for…KID PRESIDENT.

Osteogenesis Imperfecta (“Brittle Bone Syndrome”) hasn’t stopped nine year-old Robbie Novak from becoming an inspiring, TED-talking, celebrity interviewing, dance party hosting, pancake pushing, pint-sized ambassador of happiness, peace, love and understanding. Kid President’s ‘Pep Talk’ has already been watched by millions and his executive order, ‘don’t be IN a party, BE a party,’ is just too hard to resist. Hail to the Chief, Indeed.

What are you waiting for? Get hooked, and share you own addictions at #AddictionsYouShouldAdopt

You have to carry the fire.

I don’t know how to.

Yes you do.

Is it real? The fire?

Yes it is.

Where is it? I dont know where it is.

Yes you do. It’s inside you. It was always there. I can see it.

–Cormac McCarthy, The Road

This week, I was at a conference and…

• before a keynote speech, a grieving teacher shared that he’d just learned one of his students took his own life.
• I learned about the Ctrl + Alt +Delete Bullies Club, where some amazing students in Celeste ISD are combating the problem on the front lines.
• I attended a session about the sexting/cyber-bullying epidemic that’s raging through every young adult population, regardless of socio-economic status or background.
• I saw the picture of a twelve-year-old boy who committed suicide last year after relentless teasing finally drove him to depression and despair.
• I cried when I heard about the aftermath of a humiliating prank at my own son’s school.

All of these things…they just hit too hard. Too close to home. And the older I get, the more I’ve worked in schools, the longer I’ve been a parent; the more I realize…it’s hard to tend the fire, even in the hearts of our own children.

Yes, I’m one of those people who believe there’s a spark in all of us that makes us human and fragile and vulnerable and strong all at once. That flame is the capacity for grace and kindness and greatness within us.

And as I watch my boy go to school every day, I am more and more convinced that this flame–that essential piece of our humanity–is easily extinguished. By gossip. By pranks. By teasing. By physical cruelty. By careless words and images uploaded onto screens. By what’s become the ordinary, garden variety savagery of childhood in the 21st century.

Yeah, I’m talking about bullying. I know it’s a hot topic, and that you’re probably numb and cynical and wary of witch hunts and imaginary epidemics. But before you shrug off this post, consider:
- as many as 160,000 children miss school every day due to fear of attack or intimidation by other students.

- in US schools today, there are approximately 2.1 million bullies and 2.7 million victims.

- 56 percent of students have witnessed some type of bullying at school.

- 71 percent of students report incidents of bullying as a problem at their own school.

- 1 out of 20 students has seen a student with a gun at school.

- 282,000 students are physically attacked in 7-12 grade schools each month.

- 90 percent of fourth through eighth graders report being victims of bullying.

- According to bullying statistics, 1 out of every 10 students who drops out of school does so because of repeated bullying.

–Bully victims are between 2 to 9 times more likely to consider suicide than non-victims.

–Harassment and bullying have been linked to 75 percent of school-shooting incidents.

Source

You see, the game has changed. The occasional kid isn’t just getting shaken down for lunch money on the playground. In our tumblr/twitter/facebook/instram/insta-shame world, young people are routinely exposed to the worst kinds of torment–the kinds that tear away their soul and puts out the fire of kindness in their developing, growing, tender, all-too-vulnerable hearts. And too often, this is happening, not because we are terrible parents and teachers and role models, but simply because we are not actively, whole-heartedly and purposefully tending the spark.

We have been passive for too long. We haven’t had enough conversations about how to treat one another. We haven’t modeled how to treat each other with enough respect. Instead, we’ve been passive. We’ve left things to chance, feeling certain the worst would never touch our solid, stable lives. We assumed that since we survived school, that our kids would, too.

We were wrong. So wrong. And we’ve got to do something about it:

• We can teach every kid we know, both explicitly and by example, how to live without taking life.
• We can volunteer in positive capacities.
• We can sponsor anti-bullying clubs and initiatives.
• We can support and applaud the efforts of students who participate in those initiatives.
• We can donate to non-profits, both anti-bullying and suicide prevention.
• We can learn to recognize the warning signs.
• We can circle our wagons to protect the vulnerable.

We can keep the fire burning.

Librarian, Writer, Beatlemaniac

Do you live in the Dallas-Forth Worth Area?

If so, I’m teaching a FREE, two-part writing class for the Allen Public Library.

At 2:00 p.m., on Saturday, February 9th, I’ll be teaching about writing craft. In this session, we’ll discuss:

• What makes a novel great?
• How do I develop my own strong, unique writing voice?
• What are some tricks and tips to improve my writing?
• How can I troubleshoot problems in my novel?
• How can revise and polish up my novel?
• How can I give my novel the strongest chance at getting requests?

At 2:00 p.m., on Saturday, February 23rd, I’ll be teaching about the business side of submitting your work for publication. In this session, we’ll discuss:

• how to move on the path to publication, from query letter to contract
• how to develop your agent/editor wishlist
• how to write an eye-catching query letter
• how to get more requests for your work
• how to use rejection as a stepping stone to improvement
• how to survive the submission process

…and much, much MORE! Both sessions are designed to be informative and interactive with lots of discussion and detailed notes. I’ll share lots of practical tips and tricks from industry pros–basically I’ll do whatever I can to help you write/revise/submit a novel that really and truly SHINES. Hope to see you there!

Writing is…

…the one thing you’re good at.

…the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

…just a career.

…the one thing that keeps you going.

…the daily grind.

…the next stolen moment.

…a windowless room papered with rejections.

…an endless horizon, no points of reference in sight.

…an easy escape.

…the hardest taskmaster.

…a high school party–the kegger with cool kids–where you don’t belong.

…a circle you pull others into, your arms outstretched.

…the safest place.

…dangerous ground.

…an affectation, pretentious rambling.

…bare-boned truth, exposed and sharp. 

…nothing to speak of.

…everything all the time.

…the secret you never tell.

…80,000 pieces of you, strung out and shouting, 250 declarations per page.

This coming Saturday, I’ll be making my very first author appearance. How fun is that? And I hope you’ll be able to join the fun and attend YAKFEST ’13, where I’ll be moderating a YA panel. And wow, is it going to be a good one. I’m already a little starstruck just thinking about it!

I’ll get to ask YA authors Rosemary Clement Moore, Cory Oakes, Victoria Scott, Mary Lindsey and Jeff Hirsch to spill all their secrets, and my friend and fellow debut author, Julie Murphy, will also be moderating a fantastic panel with another all-star lineup–Jessica Anderson, Charles Benoit, Chris Crutcher, Simone Elkeles, Guadalupe Garica McCall, Jessica Warman, Lori Aurelia Williams and Shannon Greenland will appear on a comtemp YA panel.

I would love to see you there. Of course, I cannot promise I won’t hug you if you do. Did I mention I’m a hugger? Or…I also specialize in the awkward stare. And I’m pretty good at dropping things while talking. You know…whatever you prefer. We can work that out later.

For now, here are the important deets about YAK FEST:
WHEN: Saturday, January 19, 9am – 5pm
. Come when you can and stay for as long as you like, of course we want you there all day!

COST: TOTALLY FREE.

WHERE: Keller High School, 601 N. Pate Orr Rd. Keller, TX 76248

SOCIAL MEDIA:

https://twitter.com/YAK_Fest

https://www.facebook.com/YAKbookfest

http://teacherweb.com/TX/KellerHighSchool/YAKFest/apt1.aspx

KEYNOTE SPEAKER: Simone Elkeles, BAM. That’s what we’re talking about.
Panels of AWESOME Breakdown: 


Keeping It Real – Jessica Anderson, Charles Benoit, Chris Crutcher (afternoon only), Simone Elkeles, Guadalupe Garica McCall, Jessica Warman, Lori Aurelia Williams and Shannon Greenland
This is Not Normal – Rosemary Clement Moore, Cory Oakes, Victoria Scott, Mary Lindsey and Jeff Hirsch

This is Not Normal Either – Krissi Dallas, Tracy Deebs, Greg Leitich Smith and Andrea White

Vampire Smack Down – Cynthia Leitich Smith, Rachel Caine and Jason Henderson

There will be books available for purchase from The Book Carriage, and they will be selling books all day. 
The Book Carriage will accept cash and credit cards.
 You may bring some books from home for authors to sign.
 Food and drinks will be available for purchase at lunch.
 Of course you can talk and have your picture taken with your favorite author(s) during the signing.  The YAKFEST Yak insists upon it.

Will I see you there?

I play electric guitar, a lefty Sheraton II.  Picking it up has made me a better writer.

I swear. Seriously, there’s a correlation here. I might as well go ahead and thank Steve Vai, the legendary guitar virtuoso who opened my eyes. I recently read Guitar World’s interview with Steve and guitarist Tosin Abasi, and it’s changed the way I think about stringing words together. Abasi and Vai spoke a lot about musicianship, but I think their words speak volumes about growing and evolving as any kind of artist.

“…When I got hold of the guitar, the thing that really lit me up about the instrument is you try to do something and you can’t, but then you work on it and all of a sudden you can…That’s how it works. You become fascinated…It was an escape from other things in my life. And when you can’t do something but you work at it and then you can do it, you get this sense of achievement, which is something we all really thrive on, and also a sense of dignity that might have been destroyed by something else. So that in itself creates this feedback effect, this addiction. It was a beautiful thing for me.” –Steve Vai

Are writers so different? We stretch for the words just outside our reach, scribbling and typing and revising until we can grasp them. And when we find the right words to build a connection between the page and the reader, we’re euphoric, self-affirmed, if only for a moment . Yes, it’s hard to keep working to improve, writing book after book, but we crave that rush, the satisfaction of knowing these pages are better than the last ones. The struggle is its own addiction.

Vai elaborates on doing to hard work:

“…And when the Zappa gig came along and he was like, ‘Can you play this?,’ I was like, ‘Of course I can play it.’ ‘Cause all you gotta do is work on it. Slowly, slowly, note by note. It was unfathomable to me than any guitar player couldn’t do it. And I realized why. They just didn’t have the chutzpah to sit there and work on it…Greatness is an inspiration that a person has. So we can tell people how to be a virtuoso guitar player: just sit and practice really slow and perfectly and make sure you have vibrato and your intonation is perfect and then get faster and faster and just don’t do anything that you can’t play. Every week, click the notch up a bit. And then you’ll be able to play anything.“

Writer, your keyboard/palette/lens isn’t so different than six strings. Play.

Abasi echoes Vai:

“What happens is there’s this revelation that if you put in work on something you can’t do at first, eventually you can do it. And the first time that happens it is kind of like an addiction. You want it to happen again. And the more it happens, the more you’re confident that it can happen. So you start chasing your potential. You realize, Yeah, eventually I might get as good as I try to get. It feeds itself. So it’s not like you’re locked in a room practicing under obligation. You’re concerned with your own potential. You’re like, I’m full of potential and I’ve already started to unlock it. and I could spend the rest of my life doing it.”

Spend your life chasing down that next song or the next story or the next image or whatever it is you long to create. The process will nourish you as much as the end result.

“Getting better on guitar is really just a reflection of your ability to chisel out your own doubt. Criticism can be devastating. When push comes to shove, we are all very sensitive. I know I can be. Artists have this burning desire to create something that will gratify other people–when you find the right audience. No matter what anybody tells you, we want to be appreciated; we want to feel like what we’re doing has value and that we’re making a contribution. But what we have to get through our heads is it’s not for everybody, but is is for a select group. And when you follow your muse and your creative impulse sincerely, you find that audience comes. They come.” –Steve Vai

Don’t give in to the monster of self-doubt. Find your voice. Build connections, word by word. Keep writing until you can.

(Also, get yourself a subscription to Guitar World. It will feed your inner artist.)

I play electric guitar, a lefty Sheraton II.  Picking it up has made me a better writer.

I swear. Seriously, there’s a correlation here. I might as well go ahead and thank Steve Vai, the legendary guitar virtuoso who opened my eyes. I recently read Guitar World’s interview with Steve and guitarist Tosin Abasi, and it’s changed the way I think about stringing words together. Abasi and Vai spoke a lot about musicianship, but I think their words speak volumes about growing and evolving as any kind of artist.

“…When I got hold of the guitar, the thing that really lit me up about the instrument is you try to do something and you can’t, but then you work on it and all of a sudden you can…That’s how it works. You become fascinated…It was an escape from other things in my life. And when you can’t do something but you work at it and then you can do it, you get this sense of achievement, which is something we all really thrive on, and also a sense of dignity that might have been destroyed by something else. So that in itself creates this feedback effect, this addiction. It was a beautiful thing for me.” –Steve Vai

Are writers so different? We stretch for the words just outside our reach, scribbling and typing and revising until we can grasp them. And when we find the right words to build a connection between the page and the reader, we’re euphoric, self-affirmed, if only for a moment . Yes, it’s hard to keep working to improve, writing book after book, but we crave that rush, the satisfaction of knowing these pages are better than the last ones. The struggle is its own addiction.

Vai elaborates on doing to hard work:

“…And when the Zappa gig came along and he was like, ‘Can you play this?,’ I was like, ‘Of course I can play it.’ ‘Cause all you gotta do is work on it. Slowly, slowly, note by note. It was unfathomable to me than any guitar player couldn’t do it. And I realized why. They just didn’t have the chutzpah to sit there and work on it…Greatness is an inspiration that a person has. So we can tell people how to be a virtuoso guitar player: just sit and practice really slow and perfectly and make sure you have vibrato and your intonation is perfect and then get faster and faster and just don’t do anything that you can’t play. Every week, click the notch up a bit. And then you’ll be able to play anything.”

Writer, your keyboard/palette/lens isn’t so different than six strings. Play.

Abasi echoes Vai:

“What happens is there’s this revelation that if you put in work on something you can’t do at first, eventually you can do it. And the first time that happens it is kind of like an addiction. You want it to happen again. And the more it happens, the more you’re confident that it can happen. So you start chasing your potential. You realize, Yeah, eventually I might get as good as I try to get. It feeds itself. So it’s not like you’re locked in a room practicing under obligation. You’re concerned with your own potential. You’re like, I’m full of potential and I’ve already started to unlock it. and I could spend the rest of my life doing it.”

Spend your life chasing down that next song or the next story or the next image or whatever it is you long to create. The process will nourish you as much as the end result.

“Getting better on guitar is really just a reflection of your ability to chisel out your own doubt. Criticism can be devastating. When push comes to shove, we are all very sensitive. I know I can be. Artists have this burning desire to create something that will gratify other people–when you find the right audience. No matter what anybody tells you, we want to be appreciated; we want to feel like what we’re doing has value and that we’re making a contribution. But what we have to get through our heads is it’s not for everybody, but is is for a select group. And when you follow your muse and your creative impulse sincerely, you find that audience comes. They come.” –Steve Vai

Don’t give in to the monster of self-doubt. Find your voice. Build connections, word by word. Keep writing until you can.

(Also, get yourself a subscription to Guitar World. It will feed your inner artist.)

I play electric guitar, a lefty Sheraton II.  Picking it up has made me a better writer.

I swear. Seriously, there’s a correlation here. I might as well go ahead and thank Steve Vai, the legendary guitar virtuoso who opened my eyes. I recently read Guitar World’s interview with Steve and guitarist Tosin Abasi, and it’s changed the way I think about stringing words together. Abasi and Vai spoke a lot about musicianship, but I think their words speak volumes about growing and evolving as any kind of artist.

“…When I got hold of the guitar, the thing that really lit me up about the instrument is you try to do something and you can’t, but then you work on it and all of a sudden you can…That’s how it works. You become fascinated…It was an escape from other things in my life. And when you can’t do something but you work at it and then you can do it, you get this sense of achievement, which is something we all really thrive on, and also a sense of dignity that might have been destroyed by something else. So that in itself creates this feedback effect, this addiction. It was a beautiful thing for me.” –Steve Vai

Are writers so different? We stretch for the words just outside our reach, scribbling and typing and revising until we can grasp them. And when we find the right words to build a connection between the page and the reader, we’re euphoric, self-affirmed, if only for a moment . Yes, it’s hard to keep working to improve, writing book after book, but we crave that rush, the satisfaction of knowing these pages are better than the last ones. The struggle is its own addiction.

Vai elaborates on doing to hard work:

“…And when the Zappa gig came along and he was like, ‘Can you play this?,’ I was like, ‘Of course I can play it.’ ‘Cause all you gotta do is work on it. Slowly, slowly, note by note. It was unfathomable to me than any guitar player couldn’t do it. And I realized why. They just didn’t have the chutzpah to sit there and work on it…Greatness is an inspiration that a person has. So we can tell people how to be a virtuoso guitar player: just sit and practice really slow and perfectly and make sure you have vibrato and your intonation is perfect and then get faster and faster and just don’t do anything that you can’t play. Every week, click the notch up a bit. And then you’ll be able to play anything.”

Writer, your keyboard/palette/lens isn’t so different than six strings. Play.

Abasi echoes Vai:

“What happens is there’s this revelation that if you put in work on something you can’t do at first, eventually you can do it. And the first time that happens it is kind of like an addiction. You want it to happen again. And the more it happens, the more you’re confident that it can happen. So you start chasing your potential. You realize, Yeah, eventually I might get as good as I try to get. It feeds itself. So it’s not like you’re locked in a room practicing under obligation. You’re concerned with your own potential. You’re like, I’m full of potential and I’ve already started to unlock it. and I could spend the rest of my life doing it.”

Spend your life chasing down that next song or the next story or the next image or whatever it is you long to create. The process will nourish you as much as the end result.

“Getting better on guitar is really just a reflection of your ability to chisel out your own doubt. Criticism can be devastating. When push comes to shove, we are all very sensitive. I know I can be. Artists have this burning desire to create something that will gratify other people–when you find the right audience. No matter what anybody tells you, we want to be appreciated; we want to feel like what we’re doing has value and that we’re making a contribution. But what we have to get through our heads is it’s not for everybody, but is is for a select group. And when you follow your muse and your creative impulse sincerely, you find that audience comes. They come.” –Steve Vai

Don’t give in to the monster of self-doubt. Find your voice. Build connections, word by word. Keep writing until you can.

(Also, get yourself a subscription to Guitar World. It will feed your inner artist.)

(Roman Holiday’s THE LONG WAY HOME, my anthem and TRACKED’s theme song, btw.)

This past week has been amazing, and I’ve been heartened by all the well wishes about TRACKED, but something’s been gnawing at me.

I didn’t do this alone.

I wrote a book, sure. I set out on a journey, but all along the way, there were people who picked me up when I fell down or got insufferably weary or couldn’t see my way through. There were people who carried me.

• My husband, Chris, who always, always encouraged my crazy dream and put strong arms around me, protecting me from the relentless monster of self-doubt. When I thought about giving up, he bought me a Macbook and Scrivener. When I vowed to quit, the week before I sold, he told me I couldn’t, no way, no how.
• My incredible agent Sara Crowe, who is tireless and responsive and so capable and kind. She is my champion, a true rock star agent who believed in me even when I couldn’t.
• My editor Heather Alexander, the fiercely cool Penguin who saw something in Phee, my Han Solo girl, and took a chance on her.
• My best friends Caron and Rosemary and Candy and Sally and Alex and Kate and Amber, and everyone at DFW Workshop who read book after book and who were never too busy to encourage or spur me on.
• My family, who didn’t laugh when I said I wanted to be a writer, especially my father, who’s been with me the whole way, vicariously chasing the dream, getting just as choked up as his sentimental daughter.
• My writing friends, online and off, who have been comrades in arms–Kendra and Bryan and Erin and April and Claire and Jamie and PJ and Janet and Julie and Lindsay and the Austin Girls and the Houston Horde and the DC Mafia so many, many more. If you’re reading this, the odds are good that you belong on this list, too. I haven’t forgotten that.
• My first agent, Mary, who taught me so much, when I was just an embryo writer, still trying to find my voice.
• Lastly, the infamous, mercurial Mr. Happenstance, who taught me that a good deal of luck–finding the right person at the right time–can make all the difference.

Thank you. Thank you for kicking me in the butt and inspiring me with your brilliance and saying kind things and tweeting me up. I can’t tell you enough how grateful and lucky that makes me feel. You’ve allowed me to be ridiculous and maudlin and silly, and now I get to celebrate and give you presents! So stay tuned, people of awesome, because I am already cooking up a MONSTER GIVEAWAY with lots of insanely rad prizes–a menagerie of carefully curated ‘must haves’ I know you’ll wantsssss, PRECIOUSSSSSS.

Until then, tell me. I’d love to hear about the people who carry YOU.

(Roman Holiday’s THE LONG WAY HOME, my anthem and TRACKED’s theme song, btw.)

This past week has been amazing, and I’ve been heartened by all the well wishes about TRACKED, but something’s been gnawing at me.

I didn’t do this alone.

I wrote a book, sure. I set out on a journey, but all along the way, there were people who picked me up when I fell down or got insufferably weary or couldn’t see my way through. There were people who carried me.

• My husband, Chris, who always, always encouraged my crazy dream and put strong arms around me, protecting me from the relentless monster of self-doubt. When I thought about giving up, he bought me a Macbook and Scrivener. When I vowed to quit, the week before I sold, he told me I couldn’t, no way, no how.
• My incredible agent Sara Crowe, who is tireless and responsive and so capable and kind. She is my champion, a true rock star agent who believed in me even when I couldn’t.
• My editor Heather Alexander, the fiercely cool Penguin who saw something in Phee, my Han Solo girl, and took a chance on her.
• My best friends Caron and Rosemary and Candy and Sally and Alex and Kate and Amber, and everyone at DFW Workshop who read book after book and who were never too busy to encourage or spur me on.
• My family, who didn’t laugh when I said I wanted to be a writer, especially my father, who’s been with me the whole way, vicariously chasing the dream, getting just as choked up as his sentimental daughter.
• My writing friends, online and off, who have been comrades in arms–Kendra and Bryan and Erin and April and Claire and Jamie and PJ and Janet and Julie and Lindsay and the Austin Girls and the Houston Horde and the DC Mafia so many, many more. If you’re reading this, the odds are good that you belong on this list, too. I haven’t forgotten that.
• My first agent, Mary, who taught me so much, when I was just an embryo writer, still trying to find my voice.
• Lastly, the infamous, mercurial Mr. Happenstance, who taught me that a good deal of luck–finding the right person at the right time–can make all the difference.

Thank you. Thank you for kicking me in the butt and inspiring me with your brilliance and saying kind things and tweeting me up. I can’t tell you enough how grateful and lucky that makes me feel. You’ve allowed me to be ridiculous and maudlin and silly, and now I get to celebrate and give you presents! So stay tuned, people of awesome, because I am already cooking up a MONSTER GIVEAWAY with lots of insanely rad prizes–a menagerie of carefully curated ‘must haves’ I know you’ll wantsssss, PRECIOUSSSSSS.

Until then, tell me. I’d love to hear about the people who carry YOU.

(Roman Holiday’s THE LONG WAY HOME, my anthem and TRACKED’s theme song, btw.)

This past week has been amazing, and I’ve been heartened by all the well wishes about TRACKED, but something’s been gnawing at me.

I didn’t do this alone.

I wrote a book, sure. I set out on a journey, but all along the way, there were people who picked me up when I fell down or got insufferably weary or couldn’t see my way through. There were people who carried me.

• My husband, Chris, who always, always encouraged my crazy dream and put strong arms around me, protecting me from the relentless monster of self-doubt. When I thought about giving up, he bought me a Macbook and Scrivener. When I vowed to quit, the week before I sold, he told me I couldn’t, no way, no how.
• My incredible agent Sara Crowe, who is tireless and responsive and so capable and kind. She is my champion, a true rock star agent who believed in me even when I couldn’t.
• My editor Heather Alexander, the fiercely cool Penguin who saw something in Phee, my Han Solo girl, and took a chance on her.
• My best friends Caron and Rosemary and Candy and Sally and Alex and Kate and Amber, and everyone at DFW Workshop who read book after book and who were never too busy to encourage or spur me on.
• My family, who didn’t laugh when I said I wanted to be a writer, especially my father, who’s been with me the whole way, vicariously chasing the dream, getting just as choked up as his sentimental daughter.
• My writing friends, online and off, who have been comrades in arms–Kendra and Bryan and Erin and April and Claire and Jamie and PJ and Janet and Julie and Lindsay and the Austin Girls and the Houston Horde and the DC Mafia so many, many more. If you’re reading this, the odds are good that you belong on this list, too. I haven’t forgotten that.
• My first agent, Mary, who taught me so much, when I was just an embryo writer, still trying to find my voice.
• Lastly, the infamous, mercurial Mr. Happenstance, who taught me that a good deal of luck–finding the right person at the right time–can make all the difference.

Thank you. Thank you for kicking me in the butt and inspiring me with your brilliance and saying kind things and tweeting me up. I can’t tell you enough how grateful and lucky that makes me feel. You’ve allowed me to be ridiculous and maudlin and silly, and now I get to celebrate and give you presents! So stay tuned, people of awesome, because I am already cooking up a MONSTER GIVEAWAY with lots of insanely rad prizes–a menagerie of carefully curated ‘must haves’ I know you’ll wantsssss, PRECIOUSSSSSS.

Until then, tell me. I’d love to hear about the people who carry YOU.

Guys.

GUYS. I AM HAVING AN UGLY CRY ABOUT POSTING THIS AND I AM STILL IN SHOCK AND I CAN’T STOP SHOUTING IN RANDOM CAPS-LOCKY WAY BECAUSE…

My agent sold my debut. Our first book deal. 

(C’mon. I know you want to sing along with me.)

I can’t believe this is happening. And if you are my twitter friend, or my IRL friend, or my I-haven’t-met-you-yet friend, you may or may not know how daunting and scary and wonderful my writing journey has been so far. Whatever the case, thank you for sharing this moment with me. I love you for it. I would hug you very tightly right now, if you were here. I would ugly cry on your shoulder, and you would get impatient and tell me to stop being so maudlin and so silly, and I would listen to you. But just for a minute. Then I would start acting like a sentimental nincompoop again because…

One of my childhood dreams is coming true. I WRITE BOOKS AND SOMEONE BELIEVES IN THEM AND SOMEONE WANTS TO PUT THEM OUT INTO THE WORLD. I AM A PENGUIN.

I am so incredibly happy and lucky to be able to write that. I have so many people to thank (My family! My fabulous agent, Sara! My dream editor, Heather!). I have presents to give. I have (not very) gory details to share. But that is another post, one I’ll be writing soon. For now, thank you for reading this and being my any kind of friend. It means a lot to me.

TODAY

TOMORROW

Guys.

GUYS. I AM HAVING AN UGLY CRY ABOUT POSTING THIS AND I AM STILL IN SHOCK AND I CAN’T STOP SHOUTING IN RANDOM CAPS-LOCKY WAY BECAUSE…

My agent sold my debut. Our first book deal. 

(C’mon. I know you want to sing along with me.)

I can’t believe this is happening. And if you are my twitter friend, or my IRL friend, or my I-haven’t-met-you-yet friend, you may or may not know how daunting and scary and wonderful my writing journey has been so far. Whatever the case, thank you for sharing this moment with me. I love you for it. I would hug you very tightly right now, if you were here. I would ugly cry on your shoulder, and you would get impatient and tell me to stop being so maudlin and so silly, and I would listen to you. But just for a minute. Then I would start acting like a sentimental nincompoop again because…

One of my childhood dreams is coming true. I WRITE BOOKS AND SOMEONE BELIEVES IN THEM AND SOMEONE WANTS TO PUT THEM OUT INTO THE WORLD. I AM A PENGUIN.

I am so incredibly happy and lucky to be able to write that. I have so many people to thank (My family! My fabulous agent, Sara! My dream editor, Heather!). I have presents to give. I have (not very) gory details to share. But that is another post, one I’ll be writing soon. For now, thank you for reading this and being my any kind of friend. It means a lot to me.

TODAY

TOMORROW

Guys.

GUYS. I AM HAVING AN UGLY CRY ABOUT POSTING THIS AND I AM STILL IN SHOCK AND I CAN’T STOP SHOUTING IN RANDOM CAPS-LOCKY WAY BECAUSE…

My agent sold my debut. Our first book deal. 

(C’mon. I know you want to sing along with me.)

I can’t believe this is happening. And if you are my twitter friend, or my IRL friend, or my I-haven’t-met-you-yet friend, you may or may not know how daunting and scary and wonderful my writing journey has been so far. Whatever the case, thank you for sharing this moment with me. I love you for it. I would hug you very tightly right now, if you were here. I would ugly cry on your shoulder, and you would get impatient and tell me to stop being so maudlin and so silly, and I would listen to you. But just for a minute. Then I would start acting like a sentimental nincompoop again because…

One of my childhood dreams is coming true. I WRITE BOOKS AND SOMEONE BELIEVES IN THEM AND SOMEONE WANTS TO PUT THEM OUT INTO THE WORLD. I AM A PENGUIN.

I am so incredibly happy and lucky to be able to write that. I have so many people to thank (My family! My fabulous agent, Sara! My dream editor, Heather!). I have presents to give. I have (not very) gory details to share. But that is another post, one I’ll be writing soon. For now, thank you for reading this and being my any kind of friend. It means a lot to me.

TODAY

TOMORROW