Question Air

Fun questions looked like fun!

8 Things I am looking forward to:

1. Snowboarding season. (okay yeah it's a long ways away)
2. My peppers being ripe.
3. Dawn's birthday party.
4. The eventual trip to Portland.
5. Seeing my cousins from California.
6. My car's new transmission and paint job.
7. Hot Rod'o Rama.
8. The eventual trip to Canada. (i've never been.)

8 Things I did yesterday:

1. Worked. fuuuuuck.
2. Re-read my favorite issue of Local. So good.
3. Finished editing chapter three of my book, and got part way through chapter four.
4. Organized the short stories folder on my computer.
5. Dicked around on the internet.
6. Found a couple new journals to send stuff too.
7. Discovered an amazing (and expensive) 6 week intensive course on speculative fiction, which occasionally employs Nancy Kress. (sweet).
8. Discussed getting out of work for six weeks with Ben.

8 Things I wish I could do:

1. Publish my book.
2. Buy a house that doesn't suck.
3. Play the mandolin.
4. Cut out the need for sleep without any negative side effects. (i'm working on it)
5. Stumble upon enough money to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.
6. Get back into a choir (i'm way out of practice)
7. Write and draw a comic.
8. Say exactly what I think at all times without any negative side effects.

8 Shows I watch:

1. The Vicar of Dibley
2. The Venture Brothers
3. Word Girl
4. The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross
5. Arrested Development
6. 30 Rock
7. Pushing Daisies
8. How It's Made

8 Favorite Fruits:

1. Fujii Apples
2. Granny Smith Apples
3. Other varieties of apples
4. Pears
5. Peaches
6. Blackberries
7. Raspberries
8. Strawberries

8 Places I'd like to travel:

1. Saltzburg
2. London
3. Germany
4. Scotland
5. Whistler Ski Resort in Vancouver
6. Nebraska (i miss it)
7. Alaska
8. Mt. Vesuvius

8 Places I've lived:

1. Maple Valley, WA
2. Gig Harbor, WA
3. Kent, WA
4. Tacoma, WA
5.
6.
7.
8.

I've been rather stationary.

The Ethics of Imagined Stories.

I am facing a dilemma. I once read (and I swore it was on a lunch break at work) a short story by Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket) about a bar, and a girl, and a Dashiel Hammet-esque mistery involving a glassed in chimney. And it was amazing! It was one of the best shorts I've ever read. The atmosphere he created was just so perfect. And it was so unlike his other things. But, I'm starting to think it doesn't really exist. See, the book I swore I read it in doesn't have any stories by Daniel Handler. And any of the other collections I've read that might have had it turn up completely Handlerless. But I'm so convinced he wrote it, and I'm just missing it.

See, I've fabricated false memories in the past. Really vivid ones. Sometimes I still think my mom is fucking with me by telling me they never happened, but everyone else agrees with her. So it's entirely possible that I dreamed up the whole thing, and he never wrote that story. I'm wondering then if it's fair game... I want to read it again, and if it doesn't really exist I suppose I'll just have to create it. But it still feels a little underhanded. Like I'm stealing it. Also I doubt I could write it as well as Dream Handler wrote it.

Maybe I should just write to Mr. Handler and ask if he ever actually wrote that story. I wonder how well he responds to mail.



Edit: Oh thank goodness I've found it! It really does exist! I definately wasn't up to the task of repeating it, and Hooray another little notch in the "Megan Isn't Crazy" count.

Things which need to happen and right quick

1. Story Club needs to be reinstated. With baked goods.

2. More Dungeons and Dragons. Apparently Garth Nix published a campaign or two for DnD when he was 17. You know you want to.

3. My bell and jalapeno peppers need to be replanted into pots, and watered, so the poor things don't die shortly after blooming.

4. Vacation.

6. Crow Toes needs to get back to me (in the positive) before I go completely off my nut.

7. Nifty outdated slang needs to become common place in everyday speech.


You may have noticed something missing. It is not missing. I have simply trancended the need for it. As I no longer recognize that which is missing as missing, it has no place in my life. Perhaps if you were to reach such an enlightened state as myself, you would no longer find a need for trivial things like sequential numbers.

Okay so I'm typing in the dark and I totally need to be taken away from the religion section.

As if I needed any more reason to hate...

http://www.youtube.com/user/wowtcg

This fucker right here. "Half Price Books will sell a retro book with a cover price of .50 cents they are asking 149.99 for the book currently. If they are really selling items for half price then they should sell it for .25 cents not 149.99"

DUUUUURFF. "I'm a cheap bastard with absolutely no comprehension of business, but I shore do have a camera durp durp durp."

This is why I hate the internet. For all it's done for me, for all the knowledge gained and the good people I've met (three whole ones, yeah!), it has brought this into the world, and I can never truely stop hating that I've seen this level of stupidity on youtube. Thank you internet, for creating a worse monster than anything our forefathers could ever imagine.

P.S., I also hate the television shows that sprung up to show The Funniest Internet Videos! Get that off my fucking tv!

Finished Momo

Yep. Just as good as it started out. A little rushed at the end, but then, time was about to be erased and momo only had an hour to save the universe, so that's understandable. Also Momo met Death, and so did Michael Ende, and all the children were put away in holding pens and taught to play "file the important information in its proper place." Anyway I think everyone needs to read it.

Apparently there was a movie in the eighties. Made by Germans, which makes sense. However, everytime I've tracked down a movie made in the eighties from a wonderful children's book, I've been severely dissapointed, and almost offended. Granted, I haven't done this many times... like, okay twice, but do I want to risk it?

Survey says dammit, yes. Stadium Video, here I come. But if I find another From The Mixed Up Files botch job I'm going to break something. They didn't even get the damn title right!

Momo

So I just started this book Momo by Michael Ende, the author of The Never Ending Story. I've never read the never ending story, and really just picked this up because of all the scary gray men with clocks on the cover. And, so far, it is wonderful and sweet and everything I wish to accomplish in my own writing. I am a little jealous that I am not Michael Ende.

Basically, a vagrant child called Momo moves into the ruins of an ampitheater in a very poor village. She becomes a minor inspiration to the people there and they live simple but good lives. Then these creepy guys in gray come in from the Timesaving Bank, and steal time from people who think they're saving it, and everyone who falls prey to the bank's schemes finds their lives lacking in any joy. Of course, Momo is not effected (just barely), cue the battle to come...

Yeah, I'm really into it. I totally reccomend it. And I want to see the minor story about the crazy emperor who built a whole new world out of the old one, only to discover he merely transplanted everyone about a foot and a half to the right as a comic done in woodcuts.

New Blaaag

I've created a new blog specifically for writing type shit. It will chronicle my editing process as I try to fix the many many MANY issues made apparent in my manuscript after the SCBWI, and hopefully connect me to a few agents. Ja.

Unfortunately I did the stupid thing and put it up on a different email account and now Blogger recognizes it as a different person. So, this one, right here at http://writerslie.blogspot.com/ is also me.


As a minor follow up to the second day of SCBWI, I'd like to say that Jon Scieszka sounds alot like Bill Murry, and is possibly funnier. He got a crowd of children to worship him in a catholic church by showing off his National Ambassador of Children's Literature medal, and read a story called "Crossing Swords" to the president at a black tie dinner. Yes, the story was about pissing.

SCBWI: A New Hope

I arrived at day one of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators anual conference a bundle of nerves running on three hours of sleep and no coffee. As it was Redmond, the city was still asleep and there was no coffee to be had, even though I got there a keen hour early. However, I overcame this setback to have...

a totally awesome day. I even overcame my inert fear of everyone and everything to talk to each person I shared a table with, in ever class. Score, like, eighty kajillion on the Megan Effort Scale.

Thankfully, I was not alone. The back of the pamphlet included a "get to know your neighbor" list of questions, numbering well past fifty. Number two was "How do you overcome your introversion in order to network?" This was certainly a place of writers.

Along with ingenius editing tips, editor pet peeves, and meeting a woman who is actually Actively looking for someone who writes like Roald Dahl, about DEAD ANIMALS (my notes on this person included FUCK YES), I also discovered that Adam Rex is brilliant. And he got his start illustrating Magic the Gathering cards. He had this to say:
"It wouldn't be called bottom feeding if there wasn't food down there."
Also: "Aim low. Shoot for the knees."

And tomorrow is another day. I will try my darndest to get more than three hours sleep this time.

Sun is dangerous...

for the people of Washintonia. Conditioned to live with minimal sunlight for most of the year, the sudden appearance (and longer exposure to it) during the brief summer months can lead to euphoria, and the unfortunate belief that anything and everything is possible.

I seriously feel like Superman breaking out of a room of Red Sunlight. I want to do everything ever right now including but not limited to: volunteering at 826 seattle, joining a choir, riding my bike, playing pool at the Seafairer, designing and making a somewhat realistic looking doll of a woman preferably about 6 to 8 inches, push ups, making baba yaga's chicken leg house out of legos, finishing this fucking novel, drawing my own Sala-esque detective comic and reading all of the books on my to-read list.

Erik's making the future interior of the Dorf out of legos.

Also I bought a baseball mit because mine was either lost to the ages, or I never actually had one that would fit an adult sized hand. Not even my little stunted finger adult sized hand.

Speaking of stunted fingers, I'm going to make those wonderful orange and green gloves from Coraline and fit them correctly so I will finally for once have a glove that fits like a glove. This will happen... eventually. After Erik's gloves.

Projects

My mom and dad cleaned out their garage and found uh... probably everything that's been missing for the past ten years. Except my baseball glove. I just finished Chabon's Summerland and I really want to play baseball.

But anyway, along with a pie carrier, an album of family photographs from the turn of the last century, and the telescope I thought was sold when we moved, she found a bunch of my Great Grandma Eleanore's knitting needles. We knew they were hers because the container was covered in contact paper. Amazingly most of them were in complete sets, and she had some really teeny thin needles perfect for knitting in miniature. Which I've been wanting to attempt since I saw Coraline.

My Grandma Eleanor was for me, that relative that everyone seems to have who once ran the iditerod, or climed everest. She may not have done those things, but she did just about everything else, including making her own shoes for three years just because she didn't like the style of the ones she found in the stores. I admire that contrarian streak. She also ran the library because she owned the only house large enough for a library in cathlamet. And I get to inherit her knitting needles. Awesome.

Grandma Eleanor is also the reason I have a red paper mache donkey from mexico in my house.



Oh by the way does anyone else want to play baseball? I seriously want to play some baseball.

Snow Boarding Part Four

I finally decided to do the smart thing and buy a brace for the knee that decides a front and center kneecap is just so cliche, and attempts a three sixty on me from time to time. This, of course, doesn't work, and causes tremendous amounts of pain. So I was all set for a super fun day at the mountain! I even got off the lift succesfully the first time! And completed a perfect changeover from my front edge to my back edge without falling! Oh man, it actually felt like (dare I say it) Improvement!

Then I biffed it right where the hill flattens out and requires all snow boarders who aren't sufficiently speedy to do the shuffle of shame. I hate that shuffle. You have to unbind one foot, and sort of push yourself along at this awkward pose that looks a little like a cross between a baby turtle and a retard. You also have to make sure the board doesn't go off down one side of the mountain while you're still trying to glide the opposite direction toward the ski lift. You can imagine my hate for those damn skiers and their clever poles. Yeah, I could get there easy too if I were a Cheat!

Anyway I failed the shuffle, and while my board went one way and my free foot went the other to stop it, the damn knee brace shifted my knee cap in a completely different direction and I dropped like a sack of potatoes. I could barely walk to the second lift. But I really didn't want to be rescued by ski patrol. Oh the shame. Also, Erik's sister was telling me about being taken down the mountain on a gurney through double black diamond runs and I was a little scared of being strapped to a board at the mercy of whoever picked up the handles. Eventually common sense won out though, and Erik asked the guy at the lift to call ski patrol for me. Because being unable to walk without wincing really isn't conducive to riding a stupid plank with straps down steep snow covered hills.

Actually, once I got over the claustrophobia, it was actually a lot of fun to go down the mountain like that. Kind of like luge, if you giggle continously through luge and are occasionally sprayed in the face with powder.

However, there are few things more mind numbing than sitting in a ski lodge for five and a half hours while the hits of the eighties play overhead.

comic con was fun and I need to be not so shy about talking to people who are awesome. Blurting out random things just makes me sound crazy. Like "Holy shit I've been waiting for that game to be developed I wanna play that SO HARD." at mr. dresden codak.

Also fun was the visit to Fantagraphics. I have obtained and read so much Richard Sala I've got spiders in my brains. And Peculia is my new hero. I can't tell if this is worse or better than wanting to be Robin, the boy wonder.

Conference Thing

Oh the burst of creativity that comes with splurging three hundred dollars on a dream. Or something.



I've been gathering together some of my least horrible things to take to the childrens writer's conference in May. With particular attention going to my most involved thing, the thing that will probably never find its final draft, my novel. On a whim I drew a sort of cover and liked it. Sharing time!






That pretty much sums up the whole thing.


I've also found a magazine that specializes in scary children's stories called Crow's Toes Quarterly. Scaring children is a mission a fully support, and I intend to submit something before I get to the conference.


And still I intend to keep up a semi diligent pace on novel number two, because I still want to read it.






How I think I'll ever finish knitting a sweater I do not know please don't ask me.

Incapacitated

I can't rememer the last time I had an illness that stuck around this long. I had to skip out on snowboarding part three due to the constant coughing that comes with any exertion over the level of "sit on couch and stare at tellevision and knit." My biggest achievment so far has been a crappy drawing of a drunk Cillian Murphey being escorted out of a bar by Batman, wearing a Stereotype Me, I'm Irish shirt.

I think I need something to do outside the house.

Not Seen By Internet

There is an oasis of information that does not exist on the internet. I can't find anything on the history of Salmon Beach. Not even a blurb on the random Tacoma History sites. This is terrible. The only thing on this wonderful strip of houses built on the other side of Point Defiance over the water is some listing on a house hunting site. It was overpriced, by the way.

Looks like I'm going to be fabricating some history. Whoo hoo!

I have a new favorite show. It's over here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCY1lI8bmlE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBgHjkqxs3I&feature=related

I can't quite figure out how to get the videos onto this thing.

Covered

Rick's awesome Superman (with mermaid) and the Covered Blog inspired me to redraw the wonderful WonderWoman comic I found ages ago at work. It was disintigrating when I took it, so no worries, we didn't lose one of those critical 25 cent sales. For the record, my favorite Covered cover was Richard Sala's Batman. "You'll take Batman to your catacombs over my dead body, Catwoman!" "Have it your own way, Batgirl!"

I've been reading Pippi Longstocking, and couldn't remember the correct way to spell circus. I thought Astrid Lindgren's spelling would suffice.

Snow Boarding Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Before we left, Erik switched our bindings so I was no longer in the step in things and actually had a way to make them tighter. Oh my god oh my god that makes such a crazy huge difference. I actually got off the chair lift without falling. TWICE. And I rode my back edge down the mountain, had a couple really long runs, and even enjoyed a couple falls.

The snow is really really nice when it has more of a give than wet concrete, which was comparable to last time. This time there was probably about seven inches of new snow, and when I took a crazy fall going end over end, I got up laughing, because holy crap falling in that is fun.

Going up the first chair lift, I had the idea that it would be my last run ever, because I was terrified, and certain I would only be able to ride backwards again, and take another flying fall onto my head again, and maybe brake a collar bone, at best. But somehow that terrible fear motivated me into learning the right way to go down the mountain, and I even had fun.

Oh man, just like two more times and I'm sure I can ride the chair all the way to the top.


In writing news I have to scrap about two chapters due to my setting being just too crazy to work. Best laid plans... well we all know what happens to that.

Birthday party

It's my moms birthday today! I went to church with her this morning, and helped to greet people at the door. I saw mom's friend Pam, and Pam said

"Oh Megan! So nice to see you! You look normal, it's nice."
Taken aback, the only thing to say was "Normal?"
"Trust me, it's a good thing."

I have no idea what to think of this conversation. Was I not normal last she saw me? I tried thinking of what I looked like... I haven't had pink hair in years. She only sees me at church, and I dress nicely for church... What on earth did she mean by that?

My mom only laughed and said "Yes that's weird." so at least I'm not alone on this.

For my mom's birthday, we painted her living room and entryway, and tomorrow I'm taking her to see Coraline.


In other news, planning out a novel is like constructing a working robot out of all the contents of the game closet: mashing jenga pieces up with a couple different puzzles, hooking up operation into Hi Ho Cherrio, and glueing checkers into candyland. Yet, I feel I'm making some headway. I've got about three chapters, and I may have solved some serious logistic problems. I knew that monopoly shoe would come in handy.

John A. sneaked into my head

I swear he probably explained my usual thought process better than I could with this comic:






I also do not know bjork, and have considered child catchers to solve problems.

New Plan.

I've decided to stop getting so angry all the time. Don't know if this will work, but well, I'm sick of being angry. It's bad for my health, worse for my social interactions, and I'm willing to bet it probably benifits "The Man" in some way and I just won't stand for it.

And I just feel bad when later on I realize there wasn't a need for all that fuss, and feeling bad is even worse than feeling angry.



In other news I've begun a novel. This may or may not become the theme for my blogging. Currently the biggest issue is consolidating all my notes into a proper outline, working past my atrocious spelling (i refuse to write in a program that will underline everything I do), and finding some music on my ipod that blocks out television noise but doesn't inturrupt my thoughts.

Prokofiev, will you be my friend?

Everyone needs to go see Coraline.

3d is not nessesary, but I will say that with it the opening credits were WICKED awesome, and creepy, and when everything turns spooktacular later in the movie, the 3d only adds to it.

Also, it's lovely to see a stop animation movie that isn't about a character who is inherently creepy and only wants to be loved boo hoo. Henry Selick did a great job adapting Gaiman's book, especially in keeping Coraline's little kid nature. Hanging off a doorjam and skulking through the house when bored out of her mind: perfect! Made me think of Charlie and Lola.

And you could totally see Vera Brosgal's influence on the characters! Which is something only I care about, but... D'awwww Verabee getting awesome work! French and Saunders were fucking hilarious, too.

Only thing is, it might actually be too scary for kids. I was actually worried for this girl that went into the movie before me, like, oh shit this is probably going to fuck her up big time. Especially when the entire world dissolved into a spider web and the animatronic hand detatched and chased after Coraline. Erik was even a bit leery at this screaming face on the little ghost girl.

So yeah, in conclusion, Dammit Tim Burton, THIS is what you should have been aiming for. And I wanna see it like, a million bajillion more times.

HOW HAVE I BECOME THE BAD GUY?

When did this happen?! What did I do wrong?

...fuck, man.

Snow Boarding

So today I went up into the mountains for my first ever in my whole life (minus that one time I was abandoned at bible camp) snowboarding lesson!

I don't know if this will come as any surprise, but I'm dang near impossible to teach. I frustrate easily, I'm way to hard on myself, and I inadvertantly tend to focus all of this pent up anger in streams of profanity aimed directly at my teacher. But man oh man that Man-o-mine stuck by me (to yell back "CALM THE FUCK DOWN"). And this is why I love him. Among other reasons, of course.

So, anyway, after a fairly unsuccessful run in "the medow" by my standards but I guess decent enough for a first timer, Erik and I went up a much higher chair lift. God that was pretty. I want to master this dang board just to take all the various lifts and peer out over the green and white. And despite the occasional GOD DAMMIT on the way down, I actually got to going pretty well. Had quite a few longer runs in which I came to a controlled fall, rather than a torso twisting tumble down slope. Unfortunately, I was only comfortable doing this on my toes because I've never quite mastered the ability to walk flat footed. So we came to a much flatter portion at the base, I slowed down, the back of my board caught the ice and I flew backwards what felt like about twenty feet, but I probably only left the ground five inches and landed square on my hip and the back of my head. I cried. It fucking hurt. And I cried. That mountain has tasted my tears.

I want revenge.

So I have vowed to get astonishingly good at the snowboard and kick that mountain's ass. It may take all season. Hell it will probably take all 8 and a half, but I shall not rest until I take the run up to the top and have a victory beer while stairing across the valley at Mt. Rainier as my equal. I vow to do this just as soon as I am able to walk across the living room without wincing, and there is a good amount of powder up there to pad my next few falls.

Oh yes, and I had fun.

Worst days

they are the worst...

Today I was so thankful for the Drop that I made horrible piercing screams at the top of my lungs while driving! And felt so much better afterwards. Because I'm not actually allowed (as one of the Fresh Young Faces of Half Price Books!) to make horrible piercing screams at the customers who piss me off.

And now I'm looking forward to calling the cops on Indian DVD lady and personally handing her a form telling her that she is no longer welcome in any of our stores. I don't think I've ever been in this light of spirits after an absolute shit day before. There really is something to this screaming thing. I hope she protests and the cops beat the shit out of her!


In other news I've begun outlining a possible collection of scary fairy tales that I really hope I can get to fit together right, and my sweater is 1/4 finished. That doesn't sound like much, but those stitches are so teensy that I have to count it as an EPIC VICTORY or I'll be disheartened and give up completely.

The saga continues...

Story club is on Wednesday, and each day I come to work, I get more material. The only question is, will my attempted altruism (attempted because I cannot actually find it in my heart to think the best of absolutely everyone, much as I try) interfere with the subject at hand? Especially when this subject makes bad half jokes and comes up with lame excuses even when there's nothing to be excused? Oh dear. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.

In unrelated news the sweater that I worked on all last weekend turned out to be worked on the incorrect needles, and I have to scrap the entire beautiful thing. Knitting is not as forgiving as sewing. After a night of epic dissapointment and counting the waisted hours, I've decided to get back on the horse or I'll be too fearful to ever try a sweater again. Also, it's practically war by this point. Give me a pretty gray striped sweater or give me death!