Writing Buddy Appreciation Day

This morning, we're celebrating the website launch of my Wonder Twin and fellow 2k11-er, Amy Holder! Amy's website is so freaking pretty. And it dings. I've spent about the past five minutes moving my mouse over the ding-y things to the rhythm of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.

I hope you'll head on over there and pelt her with virtual confetti. I believe she'll even be running some kind of giveaway type thing later on today, which only serves to elevate her awesomeness.

Which brings me to my topic of the day: virtual writing buddies. I don't know many authors IRL, and most of the people I do know are hobbiests. Not that I have a problem with writing for fun AT ALL. I think it's fabulous, and I love talking to these people about books in general. But some of the most nerve-wracking aspects of this profession are, well, linked to doing it PROFESSIONALLY.

Wow, that was deep.

Really, the only other people on this planet who are going to relate to the urge to Twitter stalk the people with your manny, the only people who will think it perfectly rational that you know more about potential agents or editors than you do about your own neighbors, the only people who will understand why on earth you'd take a shot at joining one of the strangest and most difficult professions out there--those people are fellow writers.

I appreciated a bunch of my critiquers in my acknowledgements for Bad Taste in Boys, but I also wanted to take the time to appreciate friends who, even if they don't have time to read the manny, are still some of the best friends I've got. So today, I'd like to say thanks for being there to:

Amy Holder
Amy Spalding
Ellen Oh
Keri Mikulski
Kiersten White
Kiki Hamilton
Laura Riken (get a website, woman!)
Natalie Whipple

Your turn! Who are your writing buddies you can't live without? Drop them in the comments or write your own blog post and tell us where it is.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Star Trek Tik Tok

Man, they drank a lot more in Star Trek than I remembered.



I think they need to make a Star Trek I'm Too Sexy video. Or maybe "My Humps," by Spock. Yeah, I'd totally watch that. Wouldn't you?

When Sparkles Attack

Over the weekend, Masonian sent me an article about legitimate uses for sparkles. (And no, none of them involve vampires in the sunlight.) I am happy to be in the know about these things. And to have a good excuse for my glitter addiction.

"Me? I'm not addicted. I just need more wackiness in my diet. And protection from bullets."

Apparently, dogs need protection from bullets too, because when I googled "when sequins attack," I found this dress from trixieandpeanut.com:

At least when I watch you sleep it isn't quite so creepy. Okay, maybe if I'm wearing this, it is.

Maybe we should leave the sparkling to the undead. Because vampires and sparkles go together like...uh...like...

Okay, why do vampires and sparkles go together? And if you were the only human around who knew about vampires, how on earth would you go about convincing people about their sparkly existence without getting sent to the hospital with the padded rooms and compulsory craft time?

I think that conversation would go something like this:



Yeah, I kinda thought the same thing.

Flu, Schmoo

Not a whole lot to say today, because the Harris household is flu ridden. It was a long night. Frankly, I don't think I would have even gotten out of bed if it weren't for my three-year-old daughter repeatedly and deliriously screaming, "Go away, zombies!" from her bed this morning. I had to laugh. It was either that or run for a machete.

So let me leave you with this. I hope you have earplugs.

The Roast. And Bacon.

I'm thinking about throwing a party. See, Comedy Central is holding one of those comedy roasts on August 15th. You've heard of these things, right? If you have, you understand why I'm not posting a clip--they're foul and crass and the kind of thing that makes me laugh like mad and then feel vaguely guilty afterwards.

And the subject of the roast? It's him.

Roast me, baby. But, uh, please? Watch the chest hair.

The only way this could possibly get better is if they roasted Richard Simmons. But I'm quite happy with the Hoff. So anyway, I'm tossing around the idea of throwing a Hoff Roast party. But that didn't seem strange enough, so then my frequent anonymous poster (you need to pick a nickname, dude, or I'm going to give you one) sends me instructions on how to make a bacon torte and says something like, "I'd really like it if you dropped everything to make me this."

And a lightbulb went off over my head! It was like the heavens opened up, and a beam of bacon-scented light came down, and lo, it was beautiful. I knew my destiny at that moment. And my destiny is to throw a Hoff Roast/Bacon Party.

So now I'm looking around at bacon products. And I ran across the Bacon Bra. Have you heard of this? You slap raw bacon all over your bits (get it? BITS?) and then sit out in the hot sun to cook it.

Um...

Wow.

I'm kind of speechless at that one. But I've actually worn a chain mail bikini, and I can't say for sure which is worse. I CAN say that I'll be wearing normal clothes at that party, though.

What's the strangest party you've ever been to?

Fan Mail & the Writing Gods

I've started getting what I'm going to call fan mail. Emails mostly, from people who read ye olde blog of monsterrificness and are interested in reading the book or asking advice or sending me links about kewl monsters.

I love you people. And I am floored.

It's funny, because we all hear the same writing advice, don't we? "Write for yourself," They say. "Don't write what you think some imaginary audience is going to want to read. Write YOUR story."

And to a certain extent, They are right. And although I'm not entirely sure who They are, I suspect They are Glow-in-the-Dark Ninja Writing Gods, but I can't substantiate that statement.

Yeah, I have no idea where I come up with these things either. But moving on.

It's quite strange to go from writing for yourself to realizing all of a sudden that people are listening to you. And they have OPINIONS. I've been trying to prepare myself for the negative ones, because I know they will come. I know some of them will be well thought out, justified, and delivered with respect. And then there will be others that, um, AREN'T. I'm as okay with that as I'm going to get. But I never thought to prepare myself for the fan mail. And every time I open one and read that you are excited about my book, or you loved something on the blog, or you saw some hilarious thing and thought of me even though we've never met, I get this dizzy, elated, my-head's-going-to-pop-off-my-body-and-pinball-around-the-room kind of feeling.

So thanks. Let's all collectively thumb our noses at the Glow-in-the-Dark Ninja Writing Gods. Because clearly, they don't know everything.

Movie Voice Guy

Over the weekend, I was walking 'round in the woods while Scillius Maximus used his Movie Voice to announce my approach to the trees, gravel, and random woodland creatures. You know what I mean by Movie Voice, right? That booming, melodramatic voice they usually use in previews and things? And then he started announcing Bad Taste in Boys, which was really cool but beside the point. Because I started thinking. And we all know how dangerous that is.

Way back in the day, I decided that if I became famous, I was going to hire a soundtrack guy. Soundtrack guy would follow me around in an outfit covered in speakers and play music suitable for the situation. (The old version of soundtrack guy had him carrying an orchestra on his hat, but I tossed that idea out because sometimes I expect to be in situations that would require some rock and roll. [And because he might have a hard time fitting through doors that way.])

Soundtrack guy? You're fired.

I'd much rather have Movie Voice Guy follow me around, reciting appropriate music lyrics. For example, if I went out to a club, Movie Voice Guy would announce:

I don't think you're ready for this jelly.
I DON'T THINK YOU'RE READY FOR THIS JELLY.
I. Don't. Think. You're. Ready.

And then we'd probably get thrown out, but it would be worth it.

Oh! Oh! It would be even better if we went to our local high school football game so I could hang with the cheerleaders, and then I could climb on top of the cheerleader pyramid and shake some pompons, and then someone would hand me a really cute baby, and then I'd talk nonsense at it while Movie Voice Guy recited Lady Gaga for the onlookers:

Rah rah ah ah ah
Rama rah rah rah
Gaga OOOH! La la!

I'm so glad Lady Gaga wrote that song. Because you know, the whole baby on top of a pyramid thing happens to me all the time.

Really, I just need to hire this guy: