…than to never have loved at all. Isn’t that the way it goes? I never really agreed with this saying when it applies to real life. I mean, losing love really sucks, and if you’ve never been in love, you don’t know what you’re missing. Right?

But I do agree with this saying when applied to books and movies. After watching Atonement the other night, I realized that all the big, great love stories end tragically. Does anyone ever really get the girl (or guy) in a drama? I went through a quick list of classics: Casablanca, Romeo and Juliet, Endless Love, Out of Africa, The English Patient, Love Story, Brokeback Mountain, Ghost, Titanic. I guess star-crossed lovers only end up together in romantic comedies.

Which, of course, brings me to my current YA work-in-progress. Yes, the same one I’ve been working on for over a year. The love story. Yes, that one. It’s strange to think about the two lovers not ending up together. After all, they adore each other, they overcome tremendous obstacles, and I really, really love them! They must be together or the world will stop spinning! But, I also know that the tone and theme of the story may call for them to go their separate ways. Waaahhh! I know, so sad, right?

In the end, maybe it’s the longing for the love that can never be that touches readers more than the acquisition of that love. I mean, I was really happy when Harry and Sally finally kissed on New Year’s Eve, and promised to stay together forever. But when Francesca decided to stay in her truck on that rainy afternoon and let Robert Kincaid drive away from the Madison County bridges forever, knowing she would never set eyes on him again…well, that image still haunts me at night. And I read the book 14 years ago!

Maybe “having loved and lost” is the key to a good romance. I looked up the word romantic in the dictionary. It says: involving a relationship that is idealized, exciting, intense, and impractical. Impractical? Hmm... Interesting. I guess that’s why we don’t see romance movies where Harry and Sally or Robert and Francesca are arguing over paying bills, or trading in their convertible for a minivan, or saving for their kids’ college fund, or folding laundry together. Practical? Sure. Romantic? Not so much.

- Eve

If you’re wondering if the Disco Mermaids watched the Oscars Sunday night, the answer is “Yes!” Even though the three of us watched it separately—Eve watched it in the comforts of her home, Jay watched it lounging on the sofa at his parents’ home while eating Chubby Hubby ice cream, and I watched it while teetering on the edge of my bed, folding socks and underwear, and reminding my son and husband not to involve me in their wrestling match/epic pillow fight because, for crying out loud, Daniel Day-Lewis is speaking!!!

Yep, I’ve had a thing for Daniel Day-Lewis ever since My Left Foot. So watching him win Best Actor (again) was amazing. (Watching George Clooney wasn’t awful either.)

For me, I came away with a couple of thoughts from watching the Oscars…

• Yes, Katherine Heigl looked like a goddess.

• No, Jessica Alba didn’t look fat and pregnant and bloated and uncomfortable. (It just would’ve made me feel better, okay!!??)

• Yes, Jon Stewart’s “Gaydolf Titler” joke was freakin’ hilarious!

But really, my favorite moment was when the adorable couple from the movie Once won Best Song. If you want to hear the song, click here. (Maybe even put on headphones and crank it loud…it’s truly beautiful.) And here’s an interview for a little backstory.

I love when creative people put their heart and soul into a project and then get recognized for it. It inspires me to take my writing to that heart-and-soul level and search for that perfect phrase or perfect description to make the character and the story so much more alive. So I want to thank the Academy for inspiring me to be a better writer and for nominating George Clooney…because he’s hot.

What about you guys? Any Oscar thoughts?

- Robin

Stuck at home, recuperating after last week’s surgery, I decided to go through my desk and throw away things I’d been saving for way too long. But in the end, nothing got thrown away. Why? Cuz it’s all too valuable!

For example, look at this:


This is a laminated bookmark for a humorous middle grade novel I wrote about eight years ago. I made dozens of these for my trip to the first annual Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators conference in NYC. I hadn’t even finished writing the book, but I was passing these out like candy. Now, why would I do that if the book wasn’t finished yet?

I have no idea. So let’s move on...

Later that year, when I did finish the book, it won SCBWI’s Sue Alexander Most Promising New Work Award, which got me a free flight back to New York to meet with a bunch of cool editors. One of those editors even wanted to buy the manuscript, but his bosses at Simon & Schuster didn’t share in his excitement. I revised The ChocoBarn Cow for a year or so, changed the title to My Udder Life, but it still never sold…even though it’s really funny!

Here’s the deal. I only have two of these bookmarks left, but I’m willing to give one to you. Whatcha gotta do to get it? Just leave a comment on this post by midnight on Tuesday, telling me what you think the story’s about. If you’re the first person to guess correctly, it’s yours! If no one guesses correctly, the most creative answer wins.

Oh, and thanks for helping me clean out my desk.

- Jay


P.S. I'll even autograph it if you want me to!

Remember that joke that goes: You know you’re a redneck when… (You can finish the punch line in your head. Or, of course…in the comments section.)

This week, I created my own version of that joke, only it wasn’t very funny, so don’t get your hopes up. Here goes…

You know you’re a freakishly obsessed children’s book writer when…your cell phone, your iPod, and your laptop are stolen from your car and you sob like a baby, not because you’ve just lost almost $2,000 worth of stuff, but because you knew that the only version of your middle grade novel was on that laptop. And now it’s gone. Like I said, not a very funny joke, huh?

Knowing that I’d just lost my novel, I started wailing and heaving and hyperventilating…so I figured it was a good time to call my husband. It took him a while to calm me down and figure out what had happened. Once he realized no one was hurt and the house hadn’t burned down, he almost thought it was cute—that I would be THAT upset about losing my work. But I didn’t find it very cute. I was devastated.

I sniffled through the rest of my day at work, and nodded my head when well-meaning people would say things like, “Well, maybe it will be better the second time you write it.” Thankfully, Jay and Eve said things like, “Dude, that totally sucks.” (They get me.)

Now, just in case my agent is reading this and starting to hyperventilate as well, I must say that this story has a happy ending. First, our insurance is going to cover most of the cost of replacing the items. And second, I found a flash card in a drawer and prayed that I had been responsible and saved my work the last time I worked on it. And my prayers were answered! I had saved the entire thing! Woohoo!

So I think I learned a few things this week…
1. Always save your work to a flash card.
2. You should probably save your work to another hard drive as well.
3. Go ahead and save your work to a disk, too, just to be safe.
4. Why don’t you just hold your laptop wherever you go and never let it out of your sight.
5. And learn to tell a funny joke, would ya!?

--Robin

On Monday, my wife gave blood. She does stuff like this because she likes to do good things for other people (and because it was Give-a-Pint-Get-a-Pint-of-Ice-Cream Day). I don’t do stuff like this simply because I hate needles. I hate ’em! I hate anything that…I don’t know…tears through my flesh. But on Wednesday morning I’m going in for my first-ever surgery. It’s relatively minor. I’m just getting sliced and diced to fix a hernia. No biggie. I’m fine. No really, I’m fine!

So I filled pre-op Tuesday with some cool activities to keep my mind distracted (which is a very easy thing to do).

First, I spoke to two Creative Writing classes at my old high school. In each class, I did something I’d never done at a school visit before, but I think I’ll make it a regular part of future presentations. Instead of reading the intro to Thirteen Reasons Why, I started a little further into the book…which required a second reader. So one student from each class read Hannah’s lines while I read Clay’s. The reason I never did that before is because people naturally interpret words differently, and I was afraid of hearing my words interpreted in a different way than I intended. But that’s what made it so fun! So thank you, Nicole and Kacia. Those readings were the highlights of my visit (even if Robin thought I sounded like Napoleon Dynamite while reading one of my lines -- What? No!).

Then my wife and I went back into the recording studio. First, we recorded some promotional stuff for Penguin (including, this time, having my wife read Hannah’s part). Then I recorded the final guitar parts for two of her songs. There’s this one little 11-note riff in What About Me which has always given me problems and took me about fifty takes to get it right. But it’s the funkiest and most difficult riff in all of her songs…and now it’s done. Woo-hoo!

Now I’m writing this blog post after midnight because I can’t relax enough to go to sleep. Robin, to her credit, offered to write today’s post because my day was so full. But I told her not to worry…because I knew I’d need this final distraction at the end of the day. And I was right.

Well, I love you all. I’ve loved writing these little blog posts for ya over these past two years. And I’m sure I’ll write some more. After all, it’s just a hernia. It’s a very common procedure. My wife’s boss is actually performing the surgery, and he’s a really nice guy. Steady hands. Very calm. And he knows that if he messes up…even a little bit…I’m gonna blog about it!

- Jay

Okay, I’ll admit it. I totally watched an entire episode of Moment of Truth. So. Completely. Embarrassed. The mortification factor of this show is so off the charts, I’m puzzled by how it got picked up for prime time in the first place. More puzzling is how I was able to watch an entire episode and keep my dinner down. If you aren’t familiar with this monstrosity of a reality show, let me briefly sum up. Seemingly normal people sit in what looks like a normal chair on a stage, while their loved ones sit on the side and watch as a cheesy host dude fires yes or no questions at them. Wait, that’s not all. After the contestant answers yes or no to a question, a bizarre robot-lady voice announces to the crowd if their answer is true or false. So, I guess that chair they sit in is some sort of lie detector seat that can read…well, I’m not sure what the heck it reads. Easy, right?

Wrong!

The questions are sick and twisted and become more personal and uncomfortable as they go on. One waiter guy was asked if he ever overcharged patrons to receive a better tip. Yes, he had. An underwear model was asked if he had ever “stuffed his shorts for a photo shoot.” He said “No.” The robot-lady lie detector seat said otherwise. But it’s when the overly spray-tanned, oddly orange-hued host asked things like, “Do you secretly hate your mother-in-law?” while said mother-in-law sat six feet away with mouth opened wide, that I started to get seriously creeped out.

The same guy was asked, “Do you make racist jokes about your wife and her family behind their backs?” Answer: Yes. Ouch! Another guy was asked something like, “Are you hesitating to have children with your wife because you don’t love her anymore?” What?? This is a TV show? For entertainment purposes? When that last dude turned red, puffed out his cheeks, then looked toward the heavens for salvation, I knew that life as he knew it was over (so did his very angry looking wife!) and I was going to hurl.

I’ve been obsessing over what the merits of this show could possibly be, when last night it hit me. People love to watch other people suffer. What does every good story have going for it? Conflict. What do we do to our beloved characters? Chase them up trees and toss rocks at them. What does every main character in a novel or movie have to overcome? A problem. What do we writers do to a story to make it better? Ratchet up the pain factor. Up the stakes. Create a situation where all hope is lost.

But what is it about other peoples’ pain that is so appealing to us? Do we feel for them because we’ve been there, and we like the whole misery-loves-company thing? Or are we inspired by them conquering problems and winning the battle? Or is the answer more disturbing than that? Maybe humans are sick and twisted and just really get a kick out of watching people fall apart. Why else would images of poor Britney Spears be tossed at us hourly? Somebody must be entertained by this stuff. But why?

I’m not suggesting that everybody on the planet enjoys watching people suffer. I’m just raising the question for discussion. Wondering what all you readers out there think. Could a story be entertaining if nothing bad happened to the main character? Or does it just make for a really boring story?

- Eve

“Seek and ye shall find…something TOTALLY different than what you were looking for.”

Such is the case for those who typed the following words into search engines and discovered us. The Disco Mermaids!

- teen curse words -
($#%@ is still the biggie, but ^&#*@&^* hasn't been used since 1987)

- funny rhymes asking to homecoming -
(wanna go to the dance? i'll wear my cleanest underpants!)

- sneezed on the SAT scantron -
(yet somehow, still got accepted to Yale)

- they're not dumb they're just different -
(um...thanks?)

I have to take a moment to publicly thank Jay and Eve for dropping everything this past week to help me meet a deadline. I needed to get the first three chapters and a synopsis of my YA novel to my agent by Friday. And for me, just the thought of writing a synopsis makes me break out in hives, so I was desperate.

They came through for me more than I could have imagined. And we even had time to go out to dinner. Thanks, you guys. You make me proud. –sniff-

On Friday morning, I turned in my chapters and synopsis, turned off my computer, and decided I would take care of myself. Since I’d been suffering from excessive-revising-nerve-impingement-disorder (also known as pain-in-the-neck), I went to get some acupuncture.

Let me start by telling you that I’ve never had acupuncture before. The poking didn’t hurt (except for a couple that felt like eyebrow plucks) and I didn’t even mind the flame-filled glass suction cups she put on afterwards...which is just plain weird.

But afterwards, I had a reaction that I’m told is rare. It was as if the needles sent a message to my brain to block the pain, and suddenly I felt like I was on a heavy dose of vicodin. (I only know what that feels like because I had all my wisdom teeth pulled. Promise!) Not realizing I was going to have this reaction, I scheduled a lunch date with Jay for right after the acupuncture.

We were to meet downtown and walk to a restaurant. When he was just a couple of blocks away, he called me on his cell phone. “I can see you!” He waved at me, not knowing the shape I was in. “Go ahead and cross the street. The light’s green.”

“I…can’t…”
“No, it’s green, it’s safe. You can cross the street.”
“But…I…can’t…”
“Robin, just cross the street! What’s wrong?”
“I…can’t…think…straight.”

I finally figured out how to cross the street, explained to him what happened, and asked him to do all the talking at lunch since I was in no shape to carry on a conversation. “Nope,” he said. “This is going to be fun.”

So most of lunch was spent with me asking if my shoes were untied and if there were spiders crawling up my back.

But I’m back to my usual self now and it’s back to writing! I made an acupuncture appointment for next Friday, but I think I’ll skip the lunch date.

- Robin

If only it were this easy to begin a novel. My YA work-in-progress love story has been a blast to work on. I love the characters and actually have dialogue running through my head quite often. The setting is beautiful, the research has been stimulating, and the plot twists have been as exciting to write as if they were happening to me.

The lovely and talented Laini Taylor describes the process of writing a novel so articulately on her blog, Not For Robots. I would advise anyone out there who is writing a novel, is thinking of writing a novel, or even those who believe novel writing to be an easy job…those who picture us lounging around coffee houses all day, philosophizing about life, love, and loss, effortlessly cranking out masterful prose in between smoke breaks…to visit Laini’s site to get a real taste for how complicated novel writing is.

What rang so true with me is Laini’s idea of The Snick, which she describes as “the sound and feeling of a puzzle piece fitting into place.” So true! It’s the most satisfying part of writing, that elusive Snick. It can’t be forced. It has to slide easily and feel right. In my insomnia haze the other night I took her puzzle-metaphor further and compared writing to having an enormous, small-pieced puzzle spread out in front of you. Oh, but the thousands of pieces are scattered about the table and they're all white. And what you have to do is paint an idea or feeling or spot of dialogue onto one piece, then find the pieces that fit around it (mind you they’re all white), and paint those pieces. In the end, the entire puzzle has to create one large picture, with no gaps or unbelievable images, like a horse with wombat feet or something (that’s just wrong). The big picture has to make sense and everyone staring at it has to go, “Oh! I totally get it. That’s so clever.”

Which brings me to this: I’m on a serious roll with my feelings and images and Snicks and all the rest, but, I can’t seem to figure out how to begin the bloody thing. Agent Nathan Bransford had a wonderful “Surprisingly Essential First Page Contest” where he dissected what goes into an extraordinary first page of a novel, which I found very informative. However, creating a tone, a memorable entrance for the main character, suggestion of the main problem, appealing setting, and hooks that are intriguing, but don’t hit you over the head with over-the-top-ness is easier said than done.

Where to start? Where to start? Action? Dialogue? A question? Setting description? A thought in the MC’s head? It’s the strangest feeling to be so close to this novel, yet so completely unaware of where the real story begins. Once upon a time…? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…? It was a dark and stormy night…? Help!

- Eve

Today is Super Tuesday, so it’s time for many of us to vote. I’m not gonna tell you who I’m voting for because I love you and I don’t wanna get into an argument (which I would win, by the way). So go vote! Not only is it important…it’s fun, too.

But it’s also Super Duper Tuesday. Why? Because it’s the beginning of a dream-come-true for my wife. This evening, we’re going into a studio to start recording a bunch of her songs. You might be familiar with her slow song, Soul Alone, which appears at the end of the Thirteen Reasons Why audiobook. But the songs we’ll be recording over the next however-long-it-takes will be a little faster, a little funkier, and include me on guitar. Woo-hoo! I'm sure I’ll be reporting our progress in future posts, and eventually we’ll sell the C.D.s on my MySpace page. So stay tuned…

And in case you weren’t aware, yesterday happened to be Super Monday. I was down in L.A. for a full day’s worth of presentations. It began at Franklin High in Los Angeles, where I gave two presentations to about 60 students. The students were awesome (as usual)…and so were their teachers. Then I went to Gabrielino High in San Gabriel, where I spoke in the library to about 100 students from several classes, including Peer Helpers (student counselors), which was something I was involved in back in the day. My favorite part? When a student (who stayed up till 4:30 in the morning to finish the book) showed me her journal, in which she’d copied a handful of her favorite passages from my book. Amazing!

But did the day end there? Oh no!

Then I spoke at Vroman’s…that awesome indie bookstore in Pasadena. It was a bigger turnout than I’d expected (and not just because my grandma, aunt, and uncle were there). It was my first time speaking to a group where the majority of people had already read my book, which added a cool dimension to the presentation. And the Q&A was a ton of fun. It even got a little silly when someone asked me to describe some of my earlier books. It became obvious, very quickly, why those books never sold.

In fact, I was having so much fun throughout the day that I forgot to take pictures till the very end. The only one I snapped was when the people at Vroman’s began lining up for autographs. (Have I ever told you how much I love scribbling my name in books?)


- Jay

My husband and I have agreed it’s time to diversify. Not just our stocks and bonds or our selection in pizza toppings (especially since I don’t eat pizza anymore).

Hubby has decided to expand his photojournalism skills into the world of wedding photography. Which means he’s going to need an assistant. Which means…me!

My job will be to hold the huge reflector that bounces that beautiful natural light right into the bride and groom’s eyes. My job will also be to remind him not to stand on the bride’s dress and to please, please, take pictures of the cake and flowers...cuz brides love that stuff. Other than that, the rest is up to him.

Which is a good thing for these newlyweds, because he is awesome at what he does…

If you’re interested in photojournalism or weddings (or pictures of my kid) check out his new website:

www.jaysonmellom.com

Meanwhile, I’m going to work on my reflector-holding skills...which I’ve heard is good for those stubborn flabby underarm parts. Yeah for me! Reflector-Girl is on the job!

- Robin

Razorbill has started working on the paperback version of Thirteen Reasons Why (which won't be out for a long time, so ya might as well go buy the hardcover!). When I first heard about this, I asked if they wanted any new author blurbs for the book cover. I had one particular author in mind, and they told me that if I could get that blurb, I’d be their favorite author.

Okay, those weren’t their exact words…but I’m really good at reading into things.

I first met Ellen Hopkins at the 2007 SCBWI national conference (a couple months before my book came out). I introduced myself while getting her to sign my copy of Crank, and she said she’d already heard really good things about my book. Seriously, that made me almost collapse. Then, soon after my book came out, I somehow found myself sitting on a panel with her during a bookstore gig. Hearing her talk to the audience about her philosophy on writing, I became a huge fan of hers. I mean, I was already a fan of her books, but I gained a deep respect for her as an author. Her take on dealing with difficult subjects and presenting the story honestly made me feel like I had a kindred spirit in the world of authors. And I thought she might like my book if she ever read it.

When Robin and I crashed the Big Sur writing conference, where Ms. Hopkins was on the faculty, I had the chance to listen in on her discussing my book with other faculty members. She hadn’t finished the book yet, but had definite opinions on what she’d read so far, and it was extremely positive.

But then…I didn't hear from her. And authors are constantly letting each other know when we like a book.

Being an overly sensitive guy, I assumed that meant she hated the rest of the book and was afraid to tell me so. Eventually, I crossed my fingers and e-mailed her, asking if she’d be willing to give me a blurb for the paperback. But I closed my e-mail with something like: Of course, if you hated my book, there’s no need to respond.

And she returned my e-mail with this:

Every once in awhile you come across a book that you can't get out of your mind, one you have to rush back to if you must put it down for some reason. Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why is one of those books, and is at the very top of my personal "Must-Read" list.

Ellen Hopkins, author of NY Times bestsellers, Crank, Burned, Impulse and Glass

I’m celebrating my two-month anniversary. And I’m celebrating by going all out with an extra large helping of…spinach salad.

And maybe some raspberry sorbet.

It was two months ago that I decided to become a vegan. No meat. No dairy. (But truth be told, once a week I do broil some salmon. Shhhh!) Becoming a vegan is huge for me. Ask Jay and Eve, I used to be addicted to cheese sticks and all things made by those nice people at In-N-Out Burger.

But I was handed a book by my uncle last November, The China Study, and all of that changed. Sure, one reason I decided to become vegan had to do with healthy living. But it was also because of political reasons. The manner in which nutritional information gets shared (or not shared) by our government is appalling to me. If I choose to eat a cheeseburger, I want it to be my fully-informed decision…after knowing all the consequences of that choice. So now I choose to only eat things that are not furry. (Except for kiwi, which are just so cute!)

This post is in no way an attempt to alter your eating habits. I’m just trying to change Jay and Eve’s eating habits. Come on, guys! Join my weirdness, would ya!?

What’s really weird is that I recently looked through the opening chapters of my middle grade novel, which I started writing about six months ago. In one scene, my main character is eating dinner with her mother. They’re eating spaghetti and meatballs. Meatballs! (I almost hurled just typing that word.) So I had to change their meal to plain ol’ meatless pasta. Is that weird? Does anyone else change their character’s habits to reflect their own? I realize I should separate myself from my story, but in this case, it’s meatless pasta and it’s going to stay meatless pasta.

Coincidentally, the Wall Street Journal had an article in Friday’s paper about NFL star Tony Gonzalez becoming vegan…because he also read The China Study. If he can do it, I can do it! My next goal is to eat a bunch of fruits and vegetables and try out for tight-end of the Kansas City Chiefs. Wish me luck!

But this vegan thing isn’t going to be easy. The other day when I went to Subway to order a sandwich, the conversation went like this:

“I’d like a six-inch veggie on wheat.”
“What kind of cheese would you like?”
“No cheese.”
“What kind of cheese?”
“No cheese.”
“What kind?”
“None. I don’t want any cheese. None at all.”
- long pause -
“No cheese?”
“No!”

I’ve never yelled no at someone in my entire life. Not only have I become a vegan…but I’ve become a b*#&*!

- Robin

I absentmindedly opened a strange email today and downloaded a virus that threatened to scramble all my manuscripts, delete five years of digital pictures that I never learned how to print, and somehow jack all my credit card numbers, “secure” passwords, and other important numbers or letters I’ve typed into my computer. The wicked bug was probably about to assault me with a fever, hacking cough, and flesh-eating sores as well. Jeez! Who in the world spends his free time making these bugs, anyway? Get a hobby, dude.

Although I was supposed to spend the day brainstorming and writing with Jay, I ended up quarantined in my living room, bathing my computer in expensive anti-viral medicines and performing exorcisms and Obi Shaman rituals to cast the virus out. It was an incredibly frustrating day punctuated by F-word filled rants (to myself) and vows to write my next novel on my old Smith-Corona manual typewriter.

I absolutely hate technology. I’d rather chat with friends in a coffee shop than text them silly messages. And I’d rather read a real book made of paper than glue my eyes to the computer screen or listen to the audio version (except for Jay’s book, of course!). I don’t even enjoy talking on the cell phone. And how am I supposed to push those teeny-tiny buttons with my pudgy fingers? Of course, I realize that without technology you wouldn’t be reading this ranting blog post, and I wouldn’t have the pleasure of reading Jay and Robin’s morning emails that always crack me up and remind me why I write in the first place.

Technology is a big paradox. For every positive it provides, there is always an evil. Medical technology, for instance, is advancing so quickly that it’s producing a lot of unforeseen consequences and unintended harm. And sometimes treatments end up causing worse problems than the disease itself. It’s pretty fitting that my YA work-in-progress has evolved from a simple love story into an examination of the benefits and pitfalls of technological advances. And because my main character is a victim of technology gone wrong, she chooses to live a tech-free existence. Of course, since I’m really hating technology today, but can’t seem to live without it, I’ll be living life vicariously through her. As much as I complain about the tech-y world, I’d still have a hard time living without Guitar Hero and American Idol in High-Def on the plasma big screen.

- Eve

One question I get asked a lot during Q&A sessions with teens is, "What were you like in high school?" I have a hard time with that question because I still haven't decided on whether or not I enjoyed high school. For some reason, that's made it hard to figure out what I was like. So I end up talking about what interested me in high school. And other than girls...it was music.

Yep. I wanted to be a rock star.

And I recently let it slip that there's a photo in my sophomore yearbook of the very first band I played in. Then someone dared me to put that photo up on my blog. If you've been following this blog for a while, you know that I never pass up a good dare.

So here ya go...


This is Mental Onslaught, featuring Mike on bass, Javier on drums, me on guitar, and my mullet on vocals (hey, it was 1991). Before we formed this band, none of us knew how to play a single instrument. So we basically played rock-paper-scissors to divide up the instrumental duties and then we each immediately signed up for lessons. But we still needed a singer. Unfortunately, everyone was too embarrassed to sing in front of each other...so I was nominated to that position simply because my dad used to sing in a bunch of bands.

C'mon...I'm sure a lot of famous bands started this way!

The deadline for the yearbook was fast approaching, so we snapped this photo and turned it in. (What you can't see are the handcuffs attached to each of our belt loops!) Unfortunately, Mental Onslaught soon disbanded...without ever learning to play an entire song together. But we each bounced from band to band throughout the rest of high school. In fact, after graduating, Mike and Javier joined a punk bad which toured and recorded a couple C.D.s.

But I'm the one getting paid to revisit and explore my teen years again and again. And maybe, eventually, that'll help me figure out whether or not I enjoyed being a teen.

Rock on!

- Jay


P.S. For those about to rock...me and my mullet salute you!!!

Yes, I have Mermaid Mania. It’s getting a little out of control, really. I’ll tell you what happened. It’s a sweet story about three very good friends. It’s also a story about me being a dork.

A few days ago, I needed help. My agent and I decided it would be best if I switched gears for a while and revisited the young adult novel I’d been working on. We decided on a deadline to revise the novel, after which I would happily get back to my middle grade book. It sounded like a reasonable idea.

But my YA has been sitting in a drawer (I think that sounds more interesting than “in an electronic file on my laptop”) and I haven’t looked at it in almost a year. When I did, I realized…I needed help.

Enter the Mermaids. We held an emergency meeting at our favorite coffee shop and problem-solved my novel for almost three hours. We added storylines, took out storylines, changed family dynamics, and strengthened the characters’ motivations. We also drank a lot of coffee and made a lot of crude attempts at humor. I’ll never look at the paintings in that coffee shop the same way again.

Later that night, we all e-mailed each other to say thank you and to summarize what we’d learned (in a Doogie Howser sort of way). My husband rolled his eyes and told me to go to bed. But when I put on my pajamas, I didn’t realize that I had put on my Disco Mermaid t-shirt (the one with the Don Tate designed logo…I love that shirt!).

I started to change into another shirt, but my husband told me not to take it off…that he’s come to accept that this is who I am. A dork.

(Hey! He married me! Now who’s the dork? Eh?)

- Robin


Bonus Post:
I saw the best bumper sticker today. It said…

Wag More
Bark Less

This week, I was handed a whole bunch o' good news. For starters, my editor informed me that Thirteen Reasons Why was heading into its second printing. And that’s awesome because it had a very nice first printing of 40,000 copies! Basically, that means there are already enough books in print to give one copy to every person in Lima, Ohio…or Jefferson City, Missouri…or Fairbanks, Alaska. But now, citizens in neighboring towns will have a chance to read my book, as well.

Note: I chose those three cities because, as of today, I haven’t personally heard from any readers there. So Lima, Jefferson, and Fairbanks...I’m putting you on notice!

Next, I learned that Thirteen Reasons Why was placed onto three very cool lists by the Young Adult Library Services Association (YALSA):

• Best Books for Young Adults
• Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers
• Selected Audiobooks for Young Adults

It's impossible to fully describe how thrilled I am to have my book added to those lists. But the most exciting part for me is knowing that librarians think I wrote something a reluctant reader will find interesting.

Okay. Bring on next week. I’m ready!

- Jay

Is anyone else exhausted? Awards season really messes with my sleep. And this year was a “perfect storm” for losing sleep. Not only did they announce the Caldecott, the Newbery, and the Printz awards…but the night before was the Golden Globes. (The lame Golden Globes. No beautiful dresses and no Hottie McHotties to look at. Waaahhhhh!)

I was also exhausted from converting the time change to figure out what time I’d have to wake up to listen to the live broadcast of the ALA announcements. Let’s see, they’re announcing at 7:45 a.m. eastern time, so if I add three hours…no, subtract three hours…then add fifteen minutes in order to brew a pot of coffee…no, subtract fifteen minutes! Doh!

So I slept in.

Mainly, I was so tired from screaming at my television all night when anything other than Weeds or 30 Rock won a Golden Globe. I love Tina Fey (at least she won best actress!) and I love Mary-Louise Parker (she was amazing in Angels in America…and, of course, Fried Green Tomatoes).

So hopefully no children’s book awards will be announced in February when the Oscars roll around. But please, Hollywood, I’m begging…don’t cancel the Oscars. We need some Hottie McHotties to look at this time!!

- Robin

(wife of Christopher Columbus)

Today I want to tell you about the most amazing and personally inspiring thing to happen since the release of Thirteen Reasons Why. And it all started in Alabama!

Last month, Holtville Middle School held the very first (as far as I know) book club discussion using my book...


A little over a month before the discussion, their school librarian contacted me and we began brainstorming ways to make the meeting as special as possible for the students. On my end, I sent the students bookmarks and autographed bookplates. They submitted questions about the book or my writing process to Mrs. Stewart, and then I recorded my answers on an audiocassette (if you don't understand why, read the book!), which they listened to as part of their meeting...


On Mrs. Stewart's end, not only did she supply good food, but she invited Dr. Adams from the Alabama State Department of Safety and Prevention to lead a discussion on the warning signs of suicide.

I was extremely touched to have Mrs. Stewart using my book to positively affect her community. (You can read the HMS blog to get their take on how it went.) But from there, the idea started spreading. Now schools in many states across the country are putting together their own Thirteen Reasons Why book clubs, following Holtville Middle School's format. I'll be sending every school freebies and an audiocassette answering their questions, and they'll provide a professional in the field to discuss the issues raised in the book.

Of course, there will also be a lot of silliness which takes place. For example, look at what happens when there's only one copy of the book left...


- Jay

I don’t know how other artists feel, but for me every story I write or picture I paint is a piece of me. Like a chunk of my flesh is slapped onto a canvas or piece of paper and hung on the wall for all the world to see. And judge.

Though I’m pretty silly most of the time, I take my art and writing very seriously. On the surface my paintings are fairly lighthearted, but each one reflects a mood or experience that I couldn’t quite shake. I can look at each one (of the hundred or so that lurk in my closets) and recall where I was, how I was feeling, and what life decisions, memories, and dilemmas my brain was processing when it was created. It’s a part of me. Like a limb or organ. During my first art show, a few years back, someone wrote in my guestbook, “I don’t like all the colors at once. It’s just way too much.” I went through the stages of grief: anger, defensiveness, insecurity, sadness, acceptance (that I’m a total no-good hack who should never wield a paintbrush again).

I know we’ve used the baby metaphor to death, but it’s so appropriate for us book writers. Prior to conception, there’s a lot of planning and confronting doubts and fears. When we’re deep into the pregnancy period of creating our books, we live, eat, and breathe our stories. After birth, when the books are delivered to our editors, the real nurturing ensues. But, even after our offspring leave the nest and settle into bookshelves around the world, we worry about them constantly. And it pains us to the core when they are misunderstood or people speak ill of them.

So, I cannot even imagine how difficult it will be to read reviews of my novel once it is published. Even a tepid review will probably feel like my kid’s first grade teacher is telling me that my beautiful, brilliant child is not as good or smart as my delusions led me to believe. It’s such a bizarre thing that we artists place our hearts and souls on display, and hope people don’t tear them apart. Maybe facing the criticism gets easier with time. Like, we reach a point where we swim in confidence and shun those who don’t understand us.

Or maybe we just learn to focus on the positive. Like, tonight, I flipped through that old guestbook from my art show and noticed that on the last page somebody wrote, “You have really nice legs!” And I felt much better about myself.

Take that, man who hates lots of colors! How you like me now?


- Eve