Sydney Salter is a writin’ machine. She released her debut novel last year, the charming  My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters, and the exciting middle grade book, Jungle Crossing. Last month, her third book, Swoon at Your Own Risk, came out. How do you do it, Sydney? I guess some people don’t need to sleep.

I’m way jealous.

About Swoon at Your Own Risk

You’d think Polly Martin would have all the answers when it comes to love—after all, her grandmother is the famous syndicated advice columnist Miss Swoon. But after a junior year full of dating disasters, Polly has sworn off boys. This summer, she’s going to focus on herself for once. So Polly is happy when she finds out Grandma is moving in—think of all the great advice she’ll get.

But Miss Swoon turns out to be a man-crazy sexagenarian! How can Polly stop herself from falling for Xander Cooper, the suddenly-hot skateboarder who keeps showing up while she’s working at Wild Waves water park, when Grandma is picking up guys at the bookstore and flirting with the dishwasher repairman?

No advice column can prepare Polly for what happens when she goes on a group camping trip with three too many ex-boyfriends and the tempting Xander. Polly is forced to face her feelings and figure out if she can be in love—and still be herself.

About Sydney Salter

Sydney Salter has never had an ex-boyfriend or worked in a water park, but she did once babysit a bulldog. Sydney now lives in Utah with her first and only boyfriend (now her husband), two daughters, two cats, two dogs, and a pair of tortoises. She loves reading, writing, traveling, and really tall, really twisty water slides. She’s also the author of My Big Nose And Other Natural Disasters and Jungle Crossing. Visit her on the web at www.sydneysalter.com and www.mybignose.blogspot.com

Advice from Sydney Salter

What’s one of the best pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Don’t borrow trouble. In other words, don’t worry about things that might happen, but haven’t actually happened. Usually, things aren’t as bad as they seem so don’t make them worse–or catastrophic–in your imagination.

What’s one of the worst pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Date lots of guys so you know what you like. I think you can know what works without having to experience everything that doesn’t.

What advice would you give to your sixteen-year-old self, knowing all that you know now?

Accept yourself–and all your flaws. You’ll find plenty of people–guys–who like you just the way you are.

Hurrah! TMI was selected as one of the best books for readers ages 12-14 by the Bank Street College of Education. They review over 6,000 titles each year and select 600 for the list. What an honor to see my book alongside so many splendid titles.

Wh-hoo!

This week, instead of writing about writing my book, I’m going to actually do it. Too often, I let myself mess around on teh Interwebz, whining about how hard it is to write. Not today. Today is a day of action. Excuse the pun, but what a novel concept!

I’ve been asked what kind of music I listen to while writing. I love this question. Occasionally, only total silence will do as I’m concentrating on a scene. Most of the time, though, I’ve got my ear buds in.

While writing TMI, I listend to a ton of White Stripes, especially Get Behind Me Satan. I quote “Blue Orchid,” a song off this album, at the beginning of the book. In early drafts, I actually made Becca a huge fan of the band, but I eventually removed the references because I was worried that it would date the book. Of course, I imagine rocking out to Jack and Meg when I’m eighty, but I don’t know if anyone else will be. Time will tell.

I’m going to continue to be tight-lipped about my new book, but my playlist provides a few clues to what the book is about:

1. “Piano & I” by Alicia Keys
2. “Hey Hey What Can I Do” by Led Zeppelin
3. “Alcohol” by Barenaked Ladies
4. “Summer’s End” by Foo Fighters
5. “Start Choppin’” by Dinosaur Jr.
6. “Animal Girl” by Liz Phair
7. “Making Out” by No Doubt
8. “Hymn to Her” by The Pretenders
9. “House of Cards” by Radiohead
10. “The Waitress” by Tori Amos
11. “Wish Fulfillment” by Sonic Youth
12. “She Looks to Me” by Red Hot Chili Peppers
13. “Positive Bleeding” by Urge Overkill
14. “Effect & Cause” by The White Stripes
15. “Like a Luminous Girl” by Mike Doughty

If you didn’t see my post about Carrie Ryan and her take on the writing process, it’s here. Carrie is indeed a wise woman, not to mention an amazing writer. Her first novel, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, came out last year and recently made the New York Times bestseller list. The companion book, The Dead-Tossed Waves, came out last month. Both books are set a couple hundred years in the future, after the zombie apocalypse. While millions roam the earth in an undead state, hungry to spread their infection to the living, the survivors have fenced themselves off and live in a constant state of fear. I don’t want to say anything else about the plot because it would be too easy to spoil all the surprises.

I’ll be honest: I’m not the sort of girl who enjoys scary books. I’ve never read anything by Stephen King, and I have no interest in most of the paranormal young adult novels that are wildly popular right now. So why did I pick up Carrie’s books?

The Forest of Hands and Teeth snagged me with the title. I mean, it’s a really good one, isn’t it? I just had to see what it was about. And even though I barely took a full breath while reading, I couldn’t put it down. I was completely hooked into this world of the living versus the undead and the main character’s struggle to survive.

I was worried that The Dead-Tossed Waves wouldn’t be as good; after all, it had an incredibly tough act to follow. It didn’t disappoint. In fact, I think I actually enjoyed it more. The main character faced more complicated dilemmas, and the tension was even thicker.

I’m already looking forward to Carrie’s third book, which will be out next year. I can’t wait for her to scare the pants off me again!

Where do you get your inspiration?

This is probably one of the most common questions posed to any author, and it’s one of the hardest to answer. At least for me. While it’s true that I take plenty of my own experiences and twist them into something more compelling, a lot of the time, I just think of stuff. Ideas spring from my imagination. And what’s my imagination tapping into?

I have no idea.

I taught writing to international college students for several years, and they were constantly asking me how they could make their papers more interesting. I did exercises with them on how to write attention-grabbing first sentences, how to play around with metaphor, how to spice up their sentences with new vocabulary. Some students worked hard and incorporated these suggestions into their own writing. Others continued to struggle with stringing together coherent ideas, but that was largely a function of the fact that they weren’t writing in their native language. I was a Russian major in college, so I know what a challenge it is to try to be creative with linguistic limitations.

Where am I going with this? I guess my point is that there are a lot of variables at play when it comes to inspiration. What are you writing about? How close is the subject matter to your own experiences? And most importantly, have you done any creative writing before? Many of my students had not. They were from countries where rote memorization and exam scores were the key to academic success. Plagiarism was a huge problem; the whole notion of creative ownership was completely foreign to a lot of them. They’d been taught that the ideas of others were much more valuable than their own, so writing was an exercise in collecting those ideas, not thinking up new ones.

Now, I know that there are very few original ideas out there. I take comfort in the fact that the things I think and feel are part of the human experience, and that somewhere out there, at some point in time, another person was thinking and feeling the same things as me. But when I figure things out for myself, I am more likely to learn and grow. If someone shares an idea or gives me advice, I may hear it but fail to truly internalize it.

So while I like to think I’m a naturally imaginative person, I have also been writing fiction in some form or another for nearly thirty years (OMG–I can’t believe I’m old enough to write that!). I’ve had a lot of practice. And that’s really what it all boils down to. Writing is very much like athletic training. You have to do it consistently and continue to challenge yourself to see improvement. And even if your ideas aren’t original to the world, what matters is that they’re original to you.

How does Stacey Jay do it? Put out three books in fifteen months? While I have no basis for comparison, that sounds like more work than Irish twins.

Last month, I featured Stacey and her latest book, Undead Much? in this post. Well, if you can’t get enough zombies, you’re in luck because her third novel, My So-Called Death, came out last month.

About My So-Called Death

Just because you don’t have a pulse doesn’t mean you can’t be perky.

One second, freshman Karen Vera’s on top of the most fabulous cheer pyramid ever. The next, she’s lying on the pavement with seriously unflattering cranial damage. Freakishly alive without a pulse, Karen learns that she’s a genetically undead zombie.

Suddenly, Karen’s non-life is an epic disaster. She’s forced to attend a boarding school for the “death-challenged,” her roommate is a hateful wannabe-Goth weirdo, and she’s chowing down on animal brains every day to prevent rot (um, ew?). Even worse, someone is attacking students and harvesting their brains for a forbidden dark ritual. And it might be the hottest guy at DEAD High, the one who makes Karen’s non-beating heart flutter!

Armed with a perky smile and killer fashion sense, it’s up to Karen to track down the brain snatcher and save her fellow students from certain zombie death.

About Stacey Jay

Stacey Jay is a workaholic with three pen names, and a sick sense of humor. She loves creepies, crawlies, and of course, romance. What would a zombie novel–or any novel–be without kisses that make your toes tingle?

Stacey has been a full time writer since 2005 and can’t think of anything she’d rather be doing. Her former careers include theatre performer, professional dancer, poorly paid C-movie actress, bartender, and waiter.

More advice from Stacey Jay

What’s one of the best pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Grow out your bangs. It was the early nineties and my mother begged me to keep them, but I insisted on letting them grow. The day those huge, fluffy things were gone from my face was one of the best of my life, lol.

What’s one of the worst pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

“Why don’t you just elope?” Um, if planning a wedding with someone freaks you out, that’s probably a clue that you’re not ready to get married at all!

What advice would you give to your sixteen-year-old self, knowing all that you know now?

Smile more. It’s not all as serious as you think it is.

Week before last, I had the chance to go out to dinner with several young adult authors, including Carrie Ryan. Carrie’s debut novel, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, is now on the New York Times bestseller list. Last month, she released the companion to FHT, The Dead-Tossed Waves. I’ve read both and will be sharing my thoughts on them shortly.

Carrie is a peach of a gal, with a great sense of style and charming Southern accent. I was instantly drawn to her warmth and intelligence. She recently quit her job working as a litigator to pursue writing full-time. It was interesting hearing how she went from practicing law, which she enjoyed, to penning zombie novels.

Carrie had many interesting and inspiring things to say about writing, but I was most struck by her attitude toward the writing process. She said that it’s important for writers not to be too hard on themselves, especially if they don’t find time to write every day. Carrie recognizes that other life events sometimes get in the way of writing, and it’s okay. Even on the days she doesn’t write, she reminds herself that she’s still a writer.

I really needed to hear this. It’s not possible for me to write every day, and I’ve been stressing about it. Revisions on my new book are going slowly, but I’m doing the best I can. In order to speed things up, I’d have to sleep less, leave my daughter with a babysitter more often, and/or eliminate what little time I have in the evenings to relax. And right now, I don’t want to do any of those things. My day job is caring for my girl. She’ll eventually go off to school, and maybe I’ll decide to write full-time. Who knows? But in the meantime, even though it’s going slowly, even though I can’t do it every day, I’m still a writer.

My first car was a 1972 Dodge Dart. I bought it with my own money when I was sixteen. It had a brown body and forest green roof. Although its official name was “The Mallard,” I mostly just called it “The Dart.” I also sometimes jokingly referred to my car as “The Sex Machine.”

Trust me, no sex was had in this vehicle.*

There was some kissing, though. The passenger seat belt had a tendency to jam, and I had to lean over and yank on it in just the right way. I took advantage of this when giving rides to boys. They liked it when I helped them with their seat belts and felt compelled to thank me properly.

Okay, it only happened with two boys, but they were both mind-boggingly cute. Thanks, Dart!

*At least, not by me. But the car was already twenty years old when I bought it, so who knows what kind of action that back seat had seen over the years?

I first heard about Natalie Standiford’s debut novel, How to Say Goodbye in Robot, at a book signing for David Levithan. He was in town promoting his new novel, Love is the Higher Law (which is sitting in my to-be-read pile, screaming, “Pick me! Pick me!”). Someone asked David about the best books he’d read recently. His first pick was Robot, and then he sheepishly admitted that he’d edited it.

No need to be sheepish, David. You took on Standiford’s manuscript because you loved it. I’m sure I would do the same. I mean, whenever I take my daughter to the playground, I always secretly think that she’s by far the cutest kid there.

We’re all biased, right?

Biases aside, I knew I had to read this book. It’s the story of Beatrice, a.k.a. Robot Girl, who starts her senior year of high school at a new school in Baltimore. The popular girls offer friendship, and the cutest boy wants to date her, but Beatrice is more interested in hanging out with Jonah, a.k.a. Ghost Boy, a social outcast who enjoys late-night radio. Their relationship hovers in an area between friendship and romantic love, and Beatrice starts to feel her robotic armor peel away to make headway for real feelings.

I enjoyed so many aspects of this book, from Beatrice’s crazy, chicken-loving mother to the regular callers on the radio show. I got a kick out of the Baltimore references as well; my husband is from there, so I’ve done some time in that town, hon. How to Say Goobye in Robot is a book for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider. Haven’t we all felt that way at some point?

I know some of you have been enjoying my Monday lists, but I’m feeling a bit, um, listless about them right now. And since this is my blog and I’ll cry if I want to, I thought I’d explore another topic. Welcome to Manuscript Monday, where I share thoughts about my writing journey.

I had no idea what I was getting into when Dutton contracted me to write TMI (scroll down to “How did you become a writer?” for more details about this). When my editor spoke of drafts and revisions, I imagined a process similar to writing college papers, only with more words. I’d do a first draft, get feedback, make a few changes, and then polish up the grammar and punctuation. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I wasn’t at all daunted by the task.

The experience of writing and revising TMI behind me, I was seriously daunted when I began working on my new novel. I knew how much work was in front of me. I knew that thousands and thousands of the words I wrote would never make it to the printed page.

The word count on my first draft of TMI was 101,835. The final draft? 76,167. These numbers don’t take into account all of the new material I wrote for each draft, which means that I cut more than 25,000 words during the revision process. If memory serves, I nixed at least fifty pages on the final draft and added seventy new ones.

TMI’s final word count is on the high side for a young adult novel; not counting sagas like Twilight and Harry Potter, most YA novels hover around 60,000-75,000 words. If I could go back in time and do another round of revisions on TMI, I would. That’s not to say I’m not proud of it as is. But like most authors, I see things that could have been better and things that probably should have been left out.

So how am I doing right now? The first draft of my new book was 68,600 words. I’m now about a quarter of the way through revising, and I’ve cut over 10,000 words and added at least 5,000 new ones. The book is going in a different direction than I’d originally planned, and I’m pleased about it. I feel like I’ve grown a lot as a writer in the last few months. I’m not nearly as attached to my words as I used to be. I’ve taken out scenes that were funny and interesting but don’t ultimately move the story along or show the main character’s development.

Those scenes end up in the “Scraps” folder. Occasionally, I’ll go back and rescue a few sentences or paragraphs, but I know that most of those carefully crafted scenes will remain on the cutting room floor. And I’m okay with that. It’s part of the process, and frankly, I’m beginning to really enjoy it. It’s freeing to realize that something isn’t working and that I have the power to change it.

It happened again this morning. I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep for an hour and a half. Lying in the early morning dark, I felt angry and confused. It’s not like I wanted to rip out a ninety-minute chunk of precious slumber. I have a two-year-old to chase after all day. I needed that sleep.

This keeps happening, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t much to be done about it, aside from taking sedatives. And I’m not a fan of medications in general (okay, except for ibruprofen).

When I was younger, I expected that by this age (34, if you’re wondering), I’d be this totally calm, happy person who didn’t worry about anything. Yes, I had a few delusions (still do). (And I overuse parentheses.) (I have problems.)

But I really thought I’d have things figured out. I guess it’s because most adults I knew seemed to self-assured. In control. Now I know it was just a veneer.

As I stood groggy-eyed in the kitchen this morning, I told my husband, “I don’t understand why I can’t top worrying about things. Seriously, I’m too old for this crap. When am I going to finally relax?”

He smiled. “Oh, in about seventy or eighty years, I’m sure you’ll be very relaxed.”

I laughed.

It wasn’t one of those light bulb moments, like, “Oh! So that’s just the way I am.” I already know I’m a fretter, a cuticle-picker, a basic Nervous Nellie. But I haven’t embraced it yet. I’ve held out hope that I’m going to magically change someday. And while I’ve mellowed a bit with age, this is who I am at the core.

A worrywart isn’t so bad, though, right? It doesn’t cost anything, it’s not physically addictive, and it’s legal. True, it’s not very good for me, but neither are the cookies I eat everyday. We all have our vices, right?

I have a major regret regarding Hold Still. I first heard about it a few months ago, but I was up to my neck in other good reading and figured I’d get to it eventually. Then in January, I had the opportunity to go out for brunch with a bunch of amazing Bay Area young adult authors. Nina LaCour was among them. We only spoke briefly, but if I’d known how incredible her book was, I would have read it beforehand so I could have talked to her about it. I’m hoping to have that chance in the future.

Hold Still is breathtaking.

It’s the story of Caitlin, a high school senior dealing with the suicide of her best friend, Ingrid. Now, you might be thinking, “Ooh, sounds a little too heavy duty for my taste.” But LaCour handles the entire issue with a grace that allowed me to sympathize with Caitlin while feeling like her grief was very much her own. As I read, I felt as if I were peeking through a window at Caitlin as she figured out how to manage her emotions. I was peeking over her shoulder as she read Ingrid’s journal. I was a witness, not a participant.

That’s not to say that I’m opposed to being sucked into the vortex of a character’s suffering. I was a Russian literature major, for crying out loud. I can handle the heavy stuff. At the same time, I stand in awe of any author who commands a heavy subject without making a book heavy-handed. And that’s exactly what Nina LaCour did in her debut novel.

Hats off to you, Nina. Let’s have brunch again.

Awesome author Sydney Salter interviewed me about romantic relationships and is giving away a copy of my book. See her blog for details. Sydney will be stopping by my blog in May as part of the blog tour. See you soon, Sydney!

Things that make me stompin’ mad!

1. Construction work during naptime

2. Spittle on the sidewalk

3. War

4. Clonking my head on things

5. Smokers

6. The loose interpretation of the word “cappuccino” by baristas (Okay, I don’t get so mad I stomp. Just annoyed.)

7. Shoe salespeople who bring me size 9 1/2 because they didn’t have size 10. Like that’s going to work.

8. Surprise tickles

9. All the suffering in the world

10. MSG

Sorry, no Friday Flashback today. I’m ignoring my dark and shameful past today. Just don’t feel like going there. I’m not sure where I feel like going.

This new novel is kicking my booty. TMI did, too, but in a different way. So what’s changed?

I know more now. I know better. I’m not saying I know what I’m doing; I doubt I’ll ever feel that way (and seasoned authors have admitted that they still feel like frauds and amateurs). But since writing TMI, I’ve read a huge stack of young adult novels. I’ve studied the genre. I’m learning from the masters. I’ve closed the cover on a number of books and said to myself, “Aw yeah. This is how it’s done.”

I’ve highlighted many of those books on my blog already. In fact, I rarely blog about a book I don’t absolutely love. I’m making recommendations. Why would I waste time writing about a book I didn’t enjoy? I’m not a reviewer; there are already plenty of those out there. And okay, I don’t want to make any enemies. But fair enough, right? It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to.

Or recommend books. Which isn’t at all like crying, unless the books are so good they made me cry. Which sometimes happens.

Oh, whatever.

So with all this newly found knowledge about what makes a YA novel great, you’d think I could simply apply a magic formula to my own book and make it sparkle. Problem is, there is no formula. Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson is amazing in a completely different way than The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart. John Green and Lauren Myracle are brilliant in their own unique rights. I love these authors and so many more. And I couldn’t imitate them even if I tried.

So what’s a YA author to do? I’m trying hard to be myself, sing in my own voice, carve my own path. I just don’t know where I’m headed.

Stay tuned.

Current obsessions

1. The huge bin of homemade chocolate chip cookies in my freezer

2. Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains (Go, villains!)

3. How far my new protagonist should go with her boyfriend

4. Removing mold from every stinkin’ corner of my home

5. Sleep, and how to get more

6. Facebook statuses of pregnant friends

7. “Hey, Hey What Can I Do” by Led Zeppelin: the definitive theme song of my new novel

8. Those damn cookies again

9. The Pioneer Woman

10. How in the world that woman got her hair to do that

I took an introductory German class in ninth grade and really enjoyed it (the first blossoms of my grammar nerdity). One morning, Herr Mann was giving a lesson about the weather and going over all the relevant vocabulary. I asked for a pass to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, Herr Mann was reviewing a list of terms on the board. He asked me, “Sarah, imagine it’s a sunny day, and you feel sweaty. What would you say?”

I scanned the words on the board, and saw hot = heiss.

“Ich bin heiss,” I answered. Literal translation: “I am hot.”

The class erupted in laughter. Heat crept into my cheeks, and I wrinkled my brow in confusion.

“Ich bin heiss means ‘I am hot sexually,’” explained Herr Mann. “You should have said, ‘Mir ist heiss.’”

How the flip was I supposed to know that? I scowled at Herr Mann for preying on my ignorance and never asked him for the bathroom pass again.

Next up on the blog tour is Stacey Jay, whose debut You Are So Undead To Me, was released in January 2009. The sequel, Undead Much?, is out now, and with a title like that, how could you resist?

About Undead Much?

Even Zombie Settlers with Super Hot Boyfriends get the Blues…

A few months ago I was a normal girl with a normal life. But that was before my power to Settle the Undead returned and someone tried to kill me with zombies.

Now I work magic and practice kicking butt while trying to find time for pom squad and my boyfriend, Ethan, and trying NOT to think about how freaky my life has become. It can be tough. Still…things could be worse…

Oh yeah, right:

1. Feral new super-strong zombies. Check.
2. Undead psychic hottie predicting a zombie apocolypse. Check.
3. Earth-shattering secrets that could land me in Settler prison for life. Check.
4. Cheerleader vs. pom squad turf war threatening the end of the half time as we know it. Check.

I’m going to need therapy (and a cookie) if I live through the week. Unfortunately I’m learning that’s not something Zombie Queens can take for granted.

About Stacey Jay

Stacey Jay is a workaholic with three pen names, and a sick sense of humor. She loves creepies, crawlies, and of course, romance. What would a zombie novel–or any novel–be without kisses that make your toes tingle?

Stacey has been a full-time writer since 2005 and can’t think of anything she’d rather be doing. Her former careers include theatre performer, professional dancer, poorly paid C-movie actress, bartender, and waiter.

Advice from Stacey Jay

1. What’s one of the best pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Treat everyone with respect.

2. What’s one of the worst pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Don’t ever give up. There are times when giving up is the strongest course of action, when it doesn’t make sense to keep slamming your head against the wall trying to do something that isn’t a good fit for your life/personality.

3. What advice would you give to your sixteen-year-old self, knowing all that you know now?

Skip drama school and use that scholarship for something that might actually qualify you to make some money. (Oh, and minor in creative writing .)

Conversational moments that make me cringe:

1. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”
I know that what’s coming next isn’t going to be pretty. And to make matters worse, whoever says this is preemptively telling me how to react. How fair is that? A better opener would be, “I need to be really honest with you about something.” Then I’m still prepared, and I’m much more likely to listen instead of thinking about what a jackass the speaker is for trying to manipulate my feelings.

2. “You totally look like this person I know.”
That may very well be true. But unless that person is a devastatingly gorgeous celebrity that I’ve seen before, I really don’t care.

3.”Let me tell you a crazy-ass story about this girl I knew in high school. Oh, gosh, what was her name?” [pounds forehead with fist] “I can’t believe I’m blanking on it.” [spends two more minutes trying to come up with name as I pick my cuticles]
I understand that it bothers people when they forget names, I really do. But if I wouldn’t recognize the name anyway, what does it matter? Just call her Georgette and continue the story, please.

4. “Not gonna happen.”
I hate this phrase, for complicated reasons involving a painful conversation with an ex-boyfriend. I’ve forbidden my husband from saying it, along with “I disagree,” “You’re mistaken, and “You’re wrong.” Yes, my ex was a bit of a contrarian.

5. “You actually watch/eat/like that?”
I fully understand the meaning of “To each his own.” I don’t expect everyone to share my taste in television shows, snacks, reading materials, and eighties movies. That’s fine. I am an unapologetic Survivor fan and indulge in the occasional Hostess cupcake. You don’t have to like that about me, but could you stop openly judging me? I’ve never said a word about your collection of velvet paintings. Until now, I guess.

Although I haven’t read either of Erin Dionne’s books (but totally want to!), I am impressed by her mad titling skills. I mean, Models Don’t Eat Chocolate Cookies and The Total Tragedy of a Girl Named Hamlet? Those are some truly excellent titles.

I’m sorta jealous, Erin. Of the titles, and the excellent blurb you got from Lauren Myracle. I loves me some Ms. Myracle.

About The Total Tragedy of a Girl Named Hamlet

Hamlet Kennedy just wants to be your average, happy, vanilla eighth grader. But with Shakespearean scholar parents who dress in Elizabethan regalia and generally go about in public as if it were the sixteenth century, that’s not terribly easy. It gets worse when they decide that Hamlet’s genius sevenyear- old sister will attend middle school with her– and even worse when the Shakespeare project is announced and her sister is named the new math tutor. By the time an in-class recitation reveals that our heroine is an extraordinary Shakespearean actress, Hamlet can no longer hide from the fact that she–like her family–is anything but average.

About Erin Dionne

Erin Dionne’s debut novel, Models Don’t Eat Chocolate Cookies, was inspired by events that occurred in seventh grade, when she wore a scary peach bridesmaid dress in her cousin’s wedding and threw up on her gym teacher’s shoes (not at the same event). Although humiliating at the time, these experiences are working for her now. Erin lives outside of Boston with her husband and daughter, and a very insistent dog named Grafton. She roots for the Red Sox, teaches English at an art college, and sometimes eats chocolate cookies.

Advice from Erin Dionne

What’s one of the best pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

Do what you love, the money will follow. SO TRUE!! If you devote yourself to your passion, everything works out okay.

What’s one of the worst pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

To play it safe. I firmly believe that taking risks are the only ways we can grow.

What advice would you give to your sixteen-year-old self, knowing all that you know now?

Enjoy who you are right now and wear a bikini! You look great!!! Any crappy stuff you’re experiencing now won’t matter in two months, let alone two years from now.

Sophomore year of high school, I received three pieces of green clothing from Santa: leggings, an oversize turtleneck, and a long, off-the-shoulder sweater. I loved them all and wore them often. I eventually found out through the grapevine that a boy who didn’t like me was keeping track of how often I wore each piece.

Have I mentioned that I’m from a small town where there was very little to do?

I think that proves it.

Things I Just Don’t Get

1. Stilettos. I guess they’re supposed to be sexy, but I find it impossible to feel hot when my feet are in a vice grip.

2. Football. I’ve tried, really I have, but all I understand about the game is that one team scores when the football reaches the end zone.

3. Tricked-out cars. If that fart box, spoiler, and those ground effects are some expensive attempt to lure the opposite sex, sorry, dude, but they didn’t work on me. I only noticed them after my husband did.

4. The popularity of Starbucks. There is much better coffee to be had. And yes, I’m a snob.

5. Sloppy joes. Their appeal completely escapes me. I love a good burger, though.

6. Facebook friend requests from people who openly despised me in high school. After I finish scratching my head, I usually say yes, though. Why hold a grudge?

7. Elmo and Barney. Maybe if they’d been around when I was four, it would all make more sense.

8. Young, beautiful women dating old, crusty men. I’ve been seeing these couples everywhere lately, and I don’t care how much money those dudes have or how amazing their personalities are. Yuck.

9. Def Leppard. Worst. Band. Ever.

10. Casinos. I’ve only been in a few, and they depressed the heck out of me. I just wanted to shout, “The house always wins, fools! Go home and save those nickels for your grandkids’ college tuition!”

I’m participating in a blog tour with a bunch of cool authors, so for the next several months, my Writer Wednesday feature will be replaced with interviews from authors who made their writing debut last year and have a second novel coming out this year. Impressive no?

I’ve asked all the authors to relay the best and worst pieces of advice they’ve ever heard, creating a sort of advice column for all y’all. I can’t wait to see what little nuggets of wisdom everyone passes on.

First up is Shani Petroff, whose debut novel, Bedeviled: Daddy’s Little Angel, came out last August. The sequel, Bedeviled: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Dress, has been on the shelves since January. Rabid Bedeviled fans will be delighted to know that a third installment, Careful What You Wish For, is due out in June, and I’ll be featuring it later in the summer. Thanks for stopping by my blog on your tour, Shani!

About Bedeviled: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly Dress

Angel Garrett knows two things for sure. The first is that she inherited her devil-dad’s powers. The second is that she wreaks havoc whenever she tries to use them. Especially  when she’s trying to impress her crush, Cole. Angel’s only solution is to stay as far away as possible from him until she learns how to harness this new gift. But how do you avoid someone and get him to ask you to the school dance at the same time?

About Shani Petroff

Shani Petroff is a writer living in New York City. In addition to tween and teen books, Shani writes for news programs and several other venues. When she’s not locked in her apartment typing away, she spends a whole lot of time on books, boys, TV, daydreaming, and shopping online. She has no devil lineage as far as she knows.

Advice from Shani Petroff

What’s one of the best pieces of advice you’ve ever received?

If you’re going to pursue your dream then pursue it—if you’re not then get a decent paying job. For a while I only talked about going after my dreams. I didn’t actually do it. However, I didn’t want to get a “real” job either… because I didn’t want it to stand in the way of my creative pursuits (which I wasn’t really pursuing—it was a pretty bad circle). So I would temp, wait tables, but nothing that interested me. Finally, my dad told me it’s great if I want to follow my dreams, but then I needed to really follow them. Not just talk about it. And if not, then he told me I should put my degree to use—get a job that would lead to a career—one where I wasn’t always struggling to make ends meet. I ended up doing both—following my dreams and getting a cool job while I went after them. (FYI, that cool job paid horribly for the first few years, but I knew I had the potential to move up the ladder, and it was in an industry that always fascinated me).

What’s one of