On Eerie Coincidences

First, Happy Birthday to my big brother! He's turning the big 3-9 (again) in lovely Key West, Fla.! Woo! Hooray for Gregg~

Second, Happy Mardi Gras! You give a nickel and I'll give a dime--it's carnival time! The Order of Mystic Magnolias ball last night was lovely, our first Fairhope ball. Loved the Preservation Hall jazz band that greeted us at the door, the most excellent sushi being served under the big tent, and the oyster shooters... I dreamed about them all night. And I just had no idea the lead singer for Ratt had moved to the Gulf Coast to head up a party band! Those were some hot pink pants he was wearing, and he sure made 'em work...

Fun stuff.

Here's a LOL comment I read on another blog: "I used to be a night person and now I'm not. But I'm still not a morning person. I seem to have drifted somewhere to the middle."

Now, bring on the eerie coincidences!

I've already shared that last fall I got the simply outrageous notion that I would sit down and write a story, a book if you will. I went with YA because at this point in the game, I'm not looking to express my deep cynicism about the state of human affairs, I can't fathom coming up with something like the Baroque Cycle, and I'm Marian the Librarian when it comes to sexy-sexy writing. YA can deal with serious subjects and real human emotion, but it can also be light and fun. And I just had a story in my head I wanted to tell.

So I wrote these YA novels, a series, and I set out to break into the field. Quite literally. Kind of like a bull in a china closet. But I'm attempting to mend my ways, and one aspect of that is by reading YA novels published since I was a tenth-grade English teacher. (Like 15 years ago.)

I made it over to the local bookstore (OK, B&N, sorry, Martin), and I perused the juvenile section. Lots of vampires and werewolves. (FYI, my books are not supernatural in any way. Except supernaturally GOOD!) I kept looking and finally found the section of books that looked like my little tome might fall into and pulled out three to purchase: Bloom by Elizabeth Scott, The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen, and Little Miss Red by Robin Palmer.

I was thinking I'd read them and then decide if the agents for these books might be interested in representing mine. Well, for starters, Robin Palmer was an agent before becoming a writer, and Sarah Dessen's agent is her husband. No help there. As for Elizabeth Scott, sigh. Writers House. Sigh...

So back to Eerie. The eerie part came when I started reading Bloom. First I was wigged to read the book's heroine is dating Mr. Perfect but is strongly attracted to the dark-haired, dark-eyed punk-rocker type who knows her so well and who sits by her in history class. (Yikes!) Hallelujah, it turns out Mr. Perfect is a cold fish. But punk rocker was the son of her... wait for it... real estate developer dad's former girlfriend. Her mother, who is no longer in the picture, ... aspired to attend Yale University! (Whoa, whoa, whoa! Holy similarities, Batman!)

Richard says fughitaboutit. It's a completely different story. He's right. The plot of my book is completely different, and I gotta say. I found Bloom to be a bit repetitive and draggy at times (says the girl with no publishing contract). It comes together at the end... but my point is it was a weird read.

Richard further says it's a good sign: "Means there are people out there looking for the type of thing you've written." It's a great point, and I guess I am always the one going on about how there's nothing new under the sun...

Still. I felt like Foghorn Leghorn when that little nerd chick dug him out of the ground. FL walked over to the woodbox where he had originally hidden, but he paused and decided not to open the lid.

"No, I'd better not look. I just might be in there."

Love is in the Air

First, Bravo, Shadow Barons! Awesome ball last night. This funny exchange occurred between yours truly and a Baron who was crazy-dancing with me:

LTM: You're going to make me fall!
SB: (loudly) That's OK! I'm a member of this organization!
LTM: But I don't want to fall!

Ah... good times, good times.

So Happy Valentine's day! In honor of this special occasion, I'll share three reasons why I love my husband, Richard, so much:
1-He insists that I pursue my dreams/obsessions/creative urges.
2-He gives me honest feedback.
3-He is the voice of reason insisting that I stop going to extremes and look at things rationally.

Those would also be the three reasons he infuriates me sometimes. (Why did I ever tell him I had become an aspiring novelist?)

Here's my favorite picture of him~

Aw, look at that face. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him at LSU when we were 18 years old. I was kind of tired that night, so I begged off hitting the Chimes with those guys and went back to my dorm to get some rest. But we spent the next three years practically inseparable. Well, as inseparable as two people with other significant others can be. And during the summers, he wrote me the best, longest letters. Yep, letters. On paper even. And yes, Virginia, I've still got them all.

I knew by graduation I'd end up a Moore before it was all over. I knew it when he gave me that mix tape. He was headed to Vandy law school, and I was headed . . . well, back to my old high school to teach tenth-grade English. (That turned out to be a really fun experience.)

That mix tape contained the following songs (get out your notepads, fellas): Roy Orbison's "In Dreams," Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs," Elvis Costello's "Alison," Indigo Girls, "Love Will Come to You," Rod Stewart's "Baby Jane" ... I can't remember the rest, but I wore it out.

And then, ten years later, we found each other again and got married.

I can report my college boyfriend Paul said, "It's about time you two got together," when I told him we were married. Paul's a great guy.

So Happy Valentine's Day, Richard. I love you. I knew you when you had no one to talk to.

On Story Ideas

So it's carnival time down here on the coast. Super cool friends gave us tickets to the Shadow Barons ball tonight and to the Order of Mystic Magnolias on Monday night, and (of course) I started thinking about Debut Novel and how I don't have a scene of Mardi Gras in it.

I really wanted to showcase Baldwin County when I was writing these books. It was just an idea I had because of how much I've written on the area. And as I began surrounding the plot with all the crazy, fun stuff that goes on here, it worked. I was surprised at just how much I know about this gorgeous place and how much I remembered of my complete and utter culture shock moving here.

Baldwin County does not keep a schedule.

And those Get to Knows I write. Goldmine, baby. I got the entire idea for Book 2 from a single quote by a girl who worked in hospitality with Kaiser Realty. She talked about how she had become fascinated with the history of the development of Orange Beach, and she said something about being amazed at how (said developer) had to work to "convince the farmers south of Foley to stop planting sweet potatoes in the sand..."

I love that image. Sweet potatoes in the sand.

But cramming in a Mardi Gras scene just to have a MG scene goes against the other thing I really wanted to do in Debut Novel--avoid all the crap that makes me put books down and never pick them up again. E.g., scenes that don't contribute to the action or advance the story. As dream agent calls them, "scenes of nothing."

Anyway, I had this thought as I was working on Book 3 of MC running into Bad Guy at a MG parade or ball. The image of blue eyes behind a mask is so eery and disturbing. Of course, she'll think it's Jack, but it's really her nemesis demanding she tell him what's going on with his dad.

I like the image of her yelling for help, and the sound being drowned out by the noise of the revelry. Then I was thinking a cop would come up and check on the situation and BG would say he caught her trying to pick his pocket or something and eventually it plays out that the cop leaves and MC goes away, shaken but unharmed.

Little Book 3 teaser for ya, reader friends.

I'm sure most writers experience this. They'll see something or someone will say something or they'll remember a scene from a movie or a line from a song that they just can't shake. That MG image came from a movie I saw in college. But in the movie, the female lead realizes the frightening masker who's following her is her husband and is relieved. I thought of that scene a few times when I was at New Orleans Mardi Gras--another goldmine of potential story ideas.

And maskers are creepy. Especially those guys in the white whole-face masks--the Knights of Ecor Rouge? Freaky.

So we're off to Shadow Barons, and again I expect to be reminded of how this is the most interesting and inspirational place I've ever lived. A superb backdrop for stories.