Fear the Frisky Trucker

My brain is mush.

We spent the weekend driving back and forth to see my mom. There's a certain amount of mass chaos inherent in traveling with young children, but not quite as much as there is in traveling with my best friend. For some reason, whenever I get into a car with her, I suddenly lose my ability to speak AND my ability to tell the left from the right. Which means that she'll be driving, and I'll point out the left window and go, "Uuunh!"

That means "turn right." Obviously.

The saddest part of this story is that I'm not making it up.

And then, there was the trip that we took to Mexico. We went to a beach party and ended up getting frisked by the cops. I did, anyway. Her dress was so skimpy that there was no way she could hide anything in it.

There was also the time that we were followed for about 50 miles by a frisky trucker because she dared me to lick my soda bottle, and he saw it. The worst part about that episode is that I really needed a bathroom break, but we couldn't stop for fear of the frisky trucker.

Fear the frisky trucker. That's my travel motto. What's yours?

A Winner and Things That Make Me Snarf!

Okay. First and foremost, the winner of this month's free critique (free! whee!) is... Marybeth Poppins! Marybeth, the gods of Random.org have smiled upon you. Did you sacrifice a Pop Tart to them?

Wait a minute. I'm thinking about Ramrod, my Holy Toaster. Never mind.

Anyway, you are now the winner of a 10 page critique from yours truly! I shall message you momentarily. As for the rest of you, don't despair! I will continue the give-backery throughout the year! I'll have another drawing for a free critique next month, so please stay tuned. You might also consider buying some Pop Tarts.

And because I'd hate for you to leave my blog empty handed during the year of give backery, I give you this video of two Tai Chi guys fighting in slo mo. Lots of yin, lots of yang, and some bone breaking.

Pre SQUEE

I have a pair of awesome new boots, a new haircut, and tickets to NY. Who else out there is going to SCBWI NY? Because I want to meet you, and gush all over you (figuratively, not literally) for reading my blog, and show you my new zombie shirt.

SIDENOTE: It is such a good thing that I proof my blog posts, because I misspelled "shirt."

Anyway, I'm so excited about this trip that I have started squeeing at random moments. Why? Let me tell you why:

• I will be in a room full of other people who squeal like fangirls when Libba Bray walks in. These are my peepul.
  
• I will hopefully get to meet some of you. And gush. (I'm beginning to think I need ointment. Or a pressure valve. Or both.) If you come and find me, I'll give you one of my awesome Weird Magnet business cards, assuming they come in early enough.
  
• I am tentatively lunching with Rock Star Editor Wendy. Hopefully all the squees will be out of my system by then. If not, I plan to gift her with a set of zombie print earplugs.
  
• I'm meeting my brother for the first time. Yep. You read that right. This is a completely unforeseen part of the whole blogging and writing gig. I get fan mail on occasion, which is SO KEWL and MAKES ME ALL BOUNCY AND ANNOYING for the rest of the day and, most importantly, MAKES ME WRITE IN CAPITAL LETTERS. Anyway, one day, I opened up my fan mail, and it said, "I think I'm your brother." And HE IS. So we're going to meet while I'm in town, and that elevates the trip from So Freaking Awesome to Really Really So Freaking Awesomesauce.

So I hope you don't mind if I start the countdown. It's 21 days until I leave for New York. SQUEEEEEEEEE!

Things That Make Me Snarf - Hammer Time and Jasper Fforde

Seriously, people. You need to start doing some Give Backery. You'll recall from yesterday that I got a free computer. Then, I went into my favorite Borders last night, and lo and behold, there was Jasper Fforde, one of the funniest people in the universe. I think I honestly squealed like a fangirl. The greeter at the front door sure looked at me funny.

So please, if you haven't entered to win a free critique, do so. I'm swimming in good luck and need to spread it around. Kinda like peanut butter, only not really.

In the meantime, here's my gift to you. A flash mob wearing MC Hammer pants. I would totally do this.

It's Raining Good Karma, Not Men

The positive karma is already rolling in. After I announced yesterday's contest, I got a free computer. I still haven't named her, but I did put this on my desktop.


So now, every time I boot up, I get an insane case of the giggles.

And then, this morning, I discovered that No Pain, No Brain was featured as a title to wait for on Khyrinthia's blog, Frenetic Reader. I cannot decide which I love more, the fact that she featured my book or the zombie lolcat she posted with it. Probably the first, but the lolcat is definitely a close second.

And... my contract stuff is all done! I'm waiting to get into edits and all kinds of fun. I'm also going to make about 600 copies and wallpaper the office with them. No Pain is officially a step closer to being on the shelves! Woot!

That's totally awesomesauce. So awesomesauce, in fact, that I'm going to up the critique from five pages to ten. And it's still free! Hee hee!

So if there's anything you need feedback on, please enter the contest! I'm serious about wanting to pay it forward, particularly if you're writing about wereguppies. Because really, the world needs more stories about wereguppies.

The Year of Give Backery

2009 was pretty darned good to me. I sold No Pain, got a zombie penguin, and learned that the people at my gym are just begging to have comedy books written about them. I got a Dr. McNinja shirt for my husband, the real life version. I taught my kids to play zombie tag.

Good times, people. Good times.

Anyway, I didn't read and watch Pay It Forward for nothing. I'm dubbing this year the Year of Give Backery here on the Wonder That Is My Blog. And once a month, I'll do something... uh... give backerish. This month, I'm giving away a free critique. That's right. I'll read five pages of your whatever-you're-writing and give you some feedback. Free.

Whee! Free! Free is twee! I like free! It makes me squee!

Ahem. I promise not to give you feedback in crappy rhyming phrases.

So here's your chance to get critted by a semi-lunatic, to-be-pubbed-in-2011 YA author. I tend to do best with YA, fantasy, and other genre literature, but feel free to enter even if you write midget goatherder romance. Actually, I particularly want you to enter if you write midget goatherder romance. Please, do it for me.

The rules are pretty simple: leave a comment on this entry, and you have one entry. Become a follower and get another. Tweet or blog about the contest and that makes three, three entries, ha ha ha! (Sorry. Sesame Street moment there.) I'll pick a winner Monday morning. And if there's enough interest, I'll do one of these every month this year. If not, I'll give away signed pictures of me sulking or something.

The winner gets to email me the first five pages of their novel/short story/zombie haiku collection/whatever. Standard manuscript formatting, please, which means double spaced, 12 point font so I don't go permanently cross-eyed. I can read Word and RTF files. I'll return my comments to you within the month. Did I mention that they're free? Gee!

Run forth and comment, please! I need the positive karma.

WTF Monday, Now With Holiday Recovery Strategies!

Actually, I lied. I have no holiday recovery strategies. But if you do, I'll totally listen.

So, I've got new followers! And people following me on Goodreads! And people listing my book as one that they're looking forward to in 2011! I think I love you, new and lovely people. You look really nice today. You have really good taste. I like your nostrils. You sparkle nice. Don't get me wrong; I love you too, old followers. It's just that I'm a little worried about going overboard. You might thing I'm one of those sparkly vampire stalker types. And obviously, I'm not a vampire.

The other day, Slayer and I went out, all adult-like, and had dinner without children. I always have problems at those dinners, because I have to fight the continual compulsion to lean over and cut up someone's meat and squirt ketchup all over it. But I managed. After dinner, we met up with some friends for drinks. Let's call them Mr. and Mrs. Zombie Penguin, because they random gifted me with one. So I was texting Mr. ZP, because I am just that kewl, and I needed to tell him where we were.

Thrilling story so far, isn't it?

My phone has one of those auto complete functions. So when I typed in the words, "Give me a," it gave me a list of options to complete the sentence. The options?

Baby.
What.
Bearded.

Seriously. The next time you're asking for something, I hope you'll think about the bearded what babies. Because evidently, it's what all the kewl kids are asking for.