S.L. HASTINGS

I've been Missing in Action...

2009-07-08T15:50:00.000-07:00

I know. I know. My bad. But I'm spending some time in California – taking a break from everything. In fact, I did a four day road trip with my mother...and I didn't kill her...yet.

Right.

So now that I'm settled in - tan, a little blonder, and did I mention 15 pounds lighter, I'll be getting back into writing, um, when I'm not pursuing my new career as a dog walker. Come on! Everybody needs a break! And I have to say walking dogs up and down these canyon roads can really get a girl's posterior in shape. A bonus! Seriously, California has a way of inspiring you to lose your winter Chicago fat. The muffin top is nearly gone! (That's when your stomach hangs over your jeans; more swimming, more dog walking...and hasta la vista muffin top. Take that stomach fat!)

Don't worry. I'm not going to turn into one of those scary, lollypop headed, skinny actresses.

I hope.

On the writing side: Today, I sent three new queries out on Maverick...plus the dreaded stat query. I'm waiting for one of my readers to give me comments back on the first chapter of Goddess, the rest he thought made the Percy Jackson series look like a pile of childish dog #$@#. (Gotta love comments like that!) And I'm on the third chapter of Seven Letters...

That's about it. I'm getting back into the swing of things, ready to hit the ball out of the park.

Nigerian "Witch" Kids

2009-05-18T10:46:00.000-07:00

"Mary is a pretty five-year-old girl with big brown eyes and a father who kicked her out onto the streets in one of the most dangerous parts of the world. Her crime: the local priest had denounced her as a witch and blamed her "evil powers" for causing her mother's death."

If a picture speaks a thousand words, the photo pictured above doesn't tell the complete story, or even half of it. The fact of the matter is this: Children in Nigeria are being thrown out onto the streets in one of the most dangerous places on our planet. Some are even killed by being drowned, stabbed, buried alive, or poisoned. Why? Because these kids are pawns in a vicious game – a game being played out by spiritual leaders at extremist churches.

Now we're faced with a modern day witch hunt led by priests. "The priests spread the message that child-witches bring destruction, disease and death to their families. And they say that, once possessed, children can cast spells and contaminate others".

And what better way to rid your child of demons? A ceremony...

"The ceremonies are highly lucrative for the spiritual leaders many of whom enjoy a lifestyle of large homes, expensive cars and designer clothes."

And others are capitalizing on this horror. One woman wrote a popular book on how to identify if your child is a servant of Satan – screaming, crying, high fevers, decaying health– all symptoms of children living in an impoverished country with the worst of health care.

No, they're not being burned at the stake, but shaken violently, dragged around a room, and potions are poured into their eyes. If they cry, this ceremony has failed to cleanse them.

"Mary was found by a British charity worker and today lives at a refuge in Akwa Ibom province with 150 other children who have been branded witches, blamed for all their family's woes, and abandoned. "

Mary didn't suffer the fate of the other's like her. She's lucky to be alive.

The children's shelter was started five years ago when Sam Itauma, a Nigerian, opened his house to four youngsters accused of witchcraft. Today, he and his five staff care for 150 youngsters – 150 children who are not allowed back in their villages, branded as witches.

What is going on in the world?

Little Sweetie Dies

2009-05-15T12:18:00.000-07:00

When you're worth 4.2 billion dollars, you can get away with wearing your hair in pigtails, mini skirts, and bobby socks. For that, Asia's richest women, Nina Wang, otherwise known as "Little Sweetie," was one of China's tabloid princesses. But despite her wealth, she preferred to eat fast food and shop at discount outlets, dressing like a child in lieu of haute couture.

Little Sweetie's husband, Teddy Wang, was kidnapped, never to be seen or heard from again in 1990.

Thus, Little Sweetie inherited her late husband's fortune.

And now she's passed away at the ripe old age of 69.

According to her attorney, Little Sweetie has left her entire estate to her feng shui advisor, Mr. Chan, who understood her personal philosophy. Oh yes, rest assured, there will be a court battle.

Am I the only person who finds this story bizarre?

Manau: Eye and Ear Candy

2009-05-04T16:35:00.000-07:00

That's it. The lead singer's name is Martial Tricoche. And he's French. Need I say more???

Yum.

A rocker chick for KELLY

2009-04-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

Who said white chicks can't dance? Kelly, I couldn't find GNR, but I think Stevie will suffice...

Before I leave, a little pre-Friday fun...

2009-04-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

Snowball, the dancing cockatoo, grooves to the Backstreet Boys and about 1,000 YouTube videos. Proves that some animals "dance" to a musical beat.

Come on, let me see you shake your tail feather...

I'm feeling Sassy...

2009-04-29T12:42:00.000-07:00

So my college reunion is this Saturday in NYC. And I can't wait. I need to let loose, to dance, and generally spaz out with my friends. To prepare, yesterday I had my hair done. And I went a little blonder. Woo hoo! Sassssssy.

Also, bought the cutest little top at Forever 21, because you know, I'm so forever 21. Like totally. Ugh. I see I'm bringing back the '80s. Fer sure.

On that point, I've decided to get braces to straighten out my bottom teeth. For real. BUT I can't do a mouthful of metal. NO WAY. Can you imagine??? Remember that Sex in the City episode with Miranda? I don't think so.

Luckily, I'm a candidate for invisalign.

Yes, this is a random post, but I'm in a wildly, giddy mood.

Bring on the mutants!

If Cindy's writing is as wonderful as her paintings...

2009-04-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

we've got one beautiful story on our hands.

Announcing the launch of:

To celebrate the release of Silver Phoenix, fabulous Cindy Pon is hosting a contest on her blog.

Win one of her original framed brushpaintings along with a signed copy of her novel. You really don't want to miss out. If you don't have room on your walls for her art, another possible prize is a $100 gift card to a book store of your choice, also offered with a signed copy of her novel.

This is a prize worth fighting for. Check out the book trailer. You'll salivate!

I'm really looking forward to reading Silver Phoenix.

Why writing is a lot like acting...

2009-04-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know, and that probably means most of you, I used to be an actress. Sort of. See, my junior year of high school, I auditioned to attend the Chicago Academy for the Performing Arts.

And I got in....for voice.

Yep, another thing you may, or may not, have known about me. I used to sing – classically trained as a mezzo-soprano. Anyway, I chose acting as my major and took voice lessons twice a week. Yes, I was friends with Lara Flynn Boyle, who also attended the Academy at the same time. Let's just say she was a sweetheart in high school, people change, and leave it at that.

Back to the point of this post.

Why is writing like acting?

Training:
In both instances, you need to hone your craft and apply yourself 110%. Practice, practice, practice.

Critique groups and beta readers are your peers who share your oftentimes emotional journey with you. They keep you grounded, support you, and give you much-needed honest feedbackon how things can be improved.

There is a method to the madness. Find the one that works for you. Stanislavski, anyone?

Note: Proper crit group protocol. Be honest. Ask questions if you don't understand something. Ask questions if somethings bothering you about the plot. Also, employ the sugar, salt, sugar method. In the past, I've gotten crits that were all sugar. How can I improve as a writer if I'm not getting honest feedback? (That's what I like about the Fab Five Scribes and my core group of beta readers; they don't hold back). Plus, the more you crit, the better you get at it, and not only that, your own writing will improve.

Learning your role:
In acting you have to memorize lines, become your character. Writing? Well, we write our stories, develop our plots, and bring our characters to life.

But not every role is for everybody.

Write what you know. Huh? No, this doesn't mean I'm a mutant-alligator-kid with a tail, or for that matter, an eleven-year-old. Not at all, although sometimes I act like one, and my tail was cut off at birth. But in all my stories, the emotional struggles the characters encounter are ones I've been up against myself. Like searching for an identity. Or feeling like a freak.

The Performance:
Voice is your performance. Hold back? Well, you're not being true to yourself or your characters. Make no mistake, your readers will pick up on a dishonest performance.

Are you a drama queen? A comedian? A dreamer? All of these things? What type of stories should you be writing? When I was acting, I discovered musical theater – more singing, less spoken dialogue. Hard core drama – so not my thing. (In the picture, which was a production of Godspell, that's yours truly center-stage, the one in the orange coat and funky skirt). Discover your talents!

The Go-See:
The query is the first impression you make, like a cattle call. You know, making sure you're right for the part. There's a lot of competition out there and it's your turn to show them what you've got. It's a scary, nerve-wracking process, and one we all need to go through. We're not going to be published through osmosis. Time to shine! And, please, if you know that you're not right for the part, don't waste the casting director's time. Do your research. If you're unsure, think there's a possibility this could be the role for you, go ahead. At the worst, you'll just get a rejection.

And if you think agent rejections are tough...

I remember going to an audition for some commercial and the casting agents talked smack about me right in front of my face.

My nose was too wide.

My eyes were too small.

At 5'6, I was too short.

Talk about giving a sixteen-year-old girl a complex.

Of course, there is such a thing as being too honest, but only if a critique can be construed as a personal attack. I think the audition experience, among others, gave me the tough skin needed to make it as a writer. Sure, we may get some harsh critiques, but that's only IF we're not right for the part.

I didn't get a nose job. Okay, at the time I MAY have cried, just a little bit. But I moved on, brushing off the experience as a bad one. I like my nose. It's what makes me who I am.

The Audition:
The thing we're all hoping for. You may be right for the role, but I want to see more of you. Do you have a demo reel? Send me your full manuscript, if you please.

The Call Back:
OOOOH! You're one step closer. I like what I see, but if you could do this little revision, maybe die your hair black, we'll see how it goes.

Getting the Part:
So fellow writers, learn from your experiences – even the negative ones. Keep working at your craft, put yourself out there, and one day, you will be cast for that award-winning role with the right director, I mean agent.

In any case, that's my hope. And that's why, for me, writing is a lot like acting.

The big debate...

2009-04-19T12:32:00.000-07:00

Are agents, perhaps, possessed by s-s-s-s-satan? Or are authors???

These were questions Dana Carvey posed on an old episode of SNL's Church Chat skit.

What? He didn't.

Fine. You caught me.

I’ve kept silent during this whole uproar regarding #queryfail, #agentfail, and more recently #queryday, but it’s time for me to share my thoughts.

Snarky comments will come at you, no matter who you are. Case in point: Do you really think Stephanie Meyer was pleased when Stephen King took a shot at her?

“The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn," he (Stephen King in an interview) said. "She's not very good."

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think she had a hissy fit, or took her revenge by posting disparaging thoughts about him on her blog. In fact, she’s probably laughing all the way to the bank. In any case, that’s what I’d do.

FACT: Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer write for completely different audiences.

FACT: It’s only Stephen King’s opinion. Other writers have praised Ms. Meyer for her style, calling her a zeitgeist.

FACT: Stephanie Meyer didn’t ask Stephen for his opinion on his work.

Seriously. What’s going to happen if an author becomes a successful novelist? Do we really think everybody is going to sing praises for our work? Are we going to take cheap shots at book reviewers when we get bad reviews? Go after another author’s jugular because they hurt our feelings?

I think not.

Are we going to talk smack about agents? Agents that are actually giving up their own valuable time to answer questions and enlighten us?

Not a good idea, people.

And what about this article ? I'd say more on this topic, but sometimes less is more, and, well...

Yes, things are heating up on this blog.

The fact of the matter is the publishing world is a business – a business that runs on a system, its own set of rules. Guess what? Agents are a VERY important part of this system. Most of the queries that were so-called torn apart on #queryfail didn't follow the guidelines. And yes, there were a few cases where an agent's response was off, even for my twisted tastes.

These issues were fixed on #queryday, which made for a more positive experience.

In sum, everybody is entitled to an opinion, whether you agree with them or not.

And here's mine: If authors can’t handle being critiqued (snarky or not), and don't do the required research, put down your pen.

Be sure to stay tuned for ensuing posts: the importance of beta readers and critique groups, how to give and get "good crit", doing your research, pinpointing common mistakes ( yes, I've made PLENTY of them), how to bounce back from rejection, and more.

Stuff to check out today...

2009-04-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

One of the members of the Fab Five Scribes – the amazing and uber talented Sara Raasch – is a guest blogger on Alice's CWIM blog today. If you're a die-hard fan of Edward Cullen, a little warning: stay away.

Edited: Sara, is your colorful past creeping up on you? hahahaha

(Lock your doors tonight).

Oh, check out Sara's post on the secret agent contest. The SA is hooked. Woo-freaking-hoo!

Twitter: #queryday is going on. Me thinks it's turned into #asktheagentday.

It all starts with a dream...

2009-04-16T08:42:00.000-07:00

This is going to be one random post. And it's going to start with a dream I had last night. I'll do my best to connect things in a logical manner.

Last night I had a dream. My mother, who relies on me to entertain her (like I'm a clown or something), takes me to a Karaoke bar in Malibu. So I'm on stage singing a killer version of Amy Winehouse's Back to Black, which I've been known to do, and Quentin Tarantino comes up to me and asks me to be in his next film. I agree, but only if he reads KING OF THE MUTANTS. In the end, Quentin and I partner up and MUTANTS is not only published, naturally, it's made into an award-winning movie.

This could happen. Right?

Quentin was brought to mind because he was the guest judge on American Idol the other night. When I was watching Idol I thought how cool it would be to hang with Quentin. He's crazy creative, funny, and maybe a little insane. Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill (volumes I and II) are three of my favorite movies. Totally cool. I love him. Which brings me to my next subject.

Adam Lambert.

In Sunday's New York Times there was an article on Adam. Seriously. Who cares if he's gay...or not? Who cares that he dressed up like a woman to attend the Burning Man Festival? I don't. So what if he's a boy who likes girls who likes boys who likes girls. To quote the Times: "You are Adam Lambert, the contestant widely tipped as a favorite to be the next winner of “American Idol.” And the only thing standing between you and riches and the chance to play arenas may be a question currently burning up the Internet: Can a gay contestant win?"

Why even ask that question? That kid is great, so talented. He rocks. Not one of the other contestants even compares. If only he was eleven! A little off-kilter, he'd be the perfect casting choice for Maverick, who is obsessed with classic rock music and dreams of becoming a rock star. And, oh yes, he plays the guitar.

If your book was made into a movie? Who would be the ideal lead?

Snooping – stories from the past

2009-04-15T09:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's post reminded me of something I was guilty of in the past: snooping.

Yep, my freshman year of high school, I was a nosey parker.

( I'd like to change that last word to porker, like a truffle pig).

So I used to be a nosey porker.

I was babysitting for this couple, friends of our next door neighbors, and I got bored. The kids were in bed. Nothing was on TV. I'd already spent hours on the phone...

I know, I got it. I'll snoop.

BIG MISTAKE.

On my mission, I uncovered:

a) Tassels. That's right. I hope I don't have to draw you a picture. Tassels.
b) Porn. I'm not talking Playboy or Penthouse. I'm talking hard core fetish porn.
c) Costumes. Dirty costumes.
d) "Toys"– and not the kind you buy at Toys R Us.
e) Drugs, drugs, and more drugs.

So what did I do? I called my mom. And I told her. And what did my mom do? She called our neighbors, the friends of this uninhibited couple. And what did they do?

Naturally, they told the couple.

Yep. I never babysat for those people again – not that they ever asked.

If there's a lesson to be learned here, what is it???

Cyber-Sleuthing for writers...

2009-04-14T08:55:00.000-07:00

As some of you know, I was the victim to a recent lay-off. Yes, I survived three rounds of cuts, but, alas, in the last one I wasn't so lucky. Technically, March 15th was my last day, but they kept me on for two more weeks. Meh. There's nothing like working at a place and having to fulfill your duties at a job that isn't your job anymore.

But I don't want a pity party. Things happen for a reason. Onwards.

So what's a girl to do with her free time (when she's not updating her resume, portfolio, and contacting old chronies)? Well, besides feeding a recent Facebook addiction, there's blogging, writing, and cyber-sleuthing.

I've decided not to call it stalking.

I'm a detective.

Some writers send out queries to agents without doing research. But what if you find out information that could land you a request for a full – information that you can use in your query letter to show you've done your homework?

Google:

When I google an agent (or anyone) I always put his/her name in quotes. "Insert Name Here." Then, I play around with key words, also in quotes. It could be "agent," "Publishers Marketplace," "client," "deals," well, you get the point. Mix it up and you may be surprised at what you'll find.

The Boards:

Two boards I rely on to gather information are VerlaKay and AbsoluteWrite. (I'm addicted to VerlaKay. And I admit it). At both, you can check out response times, rejection and acceptance threads, etc. Always check out a fellow writer's blog or web site to see if you can find out what types of manuscripts agents are requesting – especially if you've queried, or are planning to query, said agent.

Sites that can't be ignored:

QueryTracker.net, AgentQuery.com, litmatch.net, GuidetoLiteraryAgents.com

Query tracker has a blog, filled with useful and pertinent info. AgentQuery has AQ connect. And you can also sign up for an email opt-in on GTLA. Cool beans.

Agent Blogs and Agency Web Sites.

Self explanatory – both can be found on the above sites. GTLA has a nice list on its sidebar.

Reverse Sleuthing Tools:

Cue in the music. "I always feel like somebody's watching me..."

Stat Counters.

I'm obsessed with tracking stats, especially on Maverick's blog. His blog outranks mine daily, nearly double the hits. You'd be suprised at how many people google "Wang the Human Unicorn" or "Ella Harper, the Camel Girl" or the "Montauk Monster." And it's amazing to see where people are coming from. Beirut? Jakarta? Estonia? It's funny, I often wonder what people think when they land on his page. If I found it via google, I'd wonder if there was an alligator kid running around NYC. Yep, it's one wildy weird blog.

Block your own IP address with whatever stat application you've installed. You'll get a more accurate count.

Note: Publishing houses DO check out your blogs. Over the past two months, I've noticed two major houses visiting my blog, complete with return visits and checking out multiple posts. Interesting. Yes?

I've also installed a "tracker" on my web site, which is more robust than the free stat counter the blogs use. (Speaking of which, I've got to redesign my site. Now that I have some, *cough*, free time).

IP Address Look Up
Click the link. Paste in an IP address. Sometimes it's useless, sometimes not. After all, there's only so much info you can get from an IP address (country, city). But maybe there are clues? Maybe Viacom is watching you? Maybe Disney? Um, maybe...

If you combine both the reverse-sleuthing AND sleuthing methods, you are well on your way to becoming an expert. You may strike gold "kernels" of information, or you may come up empty handed, but it's always worth a shot.

Now if it weren't for my sleuthing, I don't think I would have found the amazing members of the Fab Five Scribes. Before we formed, I think we all cyber-sleuthed one another for a little while (and still do). And yes, becoming an expert sleuth has its advantages – especially when you're researching a new WIP.

Finally, of course, you can USE some of these sleuthing methods to look up people from your past.

But it just might freak you out.

Trust me.

Do I feel another blog topic coming on???

Until then, sleuth away.

* This post was inspired by a fellow stalker, I mean detective.

Ways to tease your sister's boyfriend...

2009-04-11T16:20:00.001-07:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Things I'm Excited About...

2009-04-07T09:29:00.000-07:00

In no particular order.

1) My college reunion at tenjune in NYC on May 2nd. Yes, before this event I plan on losing my winter weight, that extra chunk of flesh that graces my belly. Can anybody say jelly roll? I blame red wine, good food, and the Chicago weather. Anyway, I went to Syracuse and I'm looking forward to seeing my old crew – some of whom I've rekindled with on Facebook. Super psyched to see them. (Say that three times fast and you'll start to sound like Drew Barrymore).

2) My new WIP, entitled THE HOUSE OF GRAVES. I'm sure because of what I'm Googling, and the books that I've ordered, I may end up on some government watch list. But all "they'd" have to do is check out my blog. That's right you covert operatives. I'm researching all this conspiracy stuff because of a YA novel I'm writing. Geez. No need to watch me, big brother. Now go back to your jobs capturing dangerous criminals.

3) I'm holding off on my GODDESS book for a little bit, thinking about cutting the first chapter altogether. While I ponder this, I'm researching my new concept. (above)

4) And yes. I'm pumped this one particular agent requested my MS. If said agent stumbles upon my blog, he may have a few questions. I've prepared a list of anticipatory answers.

a) No, I do not have serrated teeth. I wasn't born with a tail.
b) I've never been trapped under a behemoth woman.
c) Yes, I, like Maverick, hate clowns. They freak me out.
d) That "Yummy, yummy fat food" scene at the end, you know the one? With the octopus lady? I have no idea how I came up with that. Maybe it was inspired by McDonald's. Or not.
e) I've ridden in a sidecar once.
f) My dog's name is Ike, not Snaggletooth. He has all four of his legs.

That's about it for now. I've just come back from playing an hour of tennis, torturing my husband. (He's much, much better than I am). And now, since it isn't beach weather, I'm off to the gym. Say b-bye to the jelly roll.

The manuscript is in the mail...

2009-04-06T13:19:00.000-07:00

No, it actually arrived at 9:36 a.m. this morning...

Last week my sister and I were walking down Grand Street (in NYC) towards the bar we were meeting up with Lisa and Laura and I saw a good sign for Maverick. Actually it was a HUGE sign, ginormous if you will. The word "MUTANT" was spray painted in extra-large letters on the side of a building. No kidding! I'm meeting two members of my writing group AND I'd just finished revising KING OF THE MUTANTS (after putting it down for three months) and I'd just sent out my first query letter on it???

(Yes, I should have taken a picture of it...)

I'd like to think my timing for this novel is right. Keeping fingers crossed, um toes, crossed. I'm not a monkey. I can't type with my feet.

So I'm in Florida, taking care of the father-in-law while the sister-in-law is out of town. As luck would have it, my hubby and I are missing a storm storm in Chicago. It was a beautiful 88 degrees here today. My sickly, vitamin D, sun-starved complexion is now aglow.

Forget about Robert Pattison...

2009-04-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

Or maybe James Franco???

Oh. Wait a second. I'm married...

Ah, might as well do one more...

2009-03-26T21:54:00.000-07:00

Here's Serafine, the Hoodoo priestess. Naturally, she lives in the bayou with da gators...

“I’ve got myself a lot of enemies,” said Serafine. “And yes, I can read those feelings of yours and make sense of them. Well, me and my third eye can.”

I struggled to hold Snaggletooth. Just because he was missing a leg didn’t mean he wasn’t heavy. Serafine grabbed him out of my arms and set him gently on the ground.

“What do you mean third eye?” I asked.

“Just you see, Maverick, just you see.” Serafine stood in the candlelight and separated her robe, revealing her torso. What she concealed left me flabbergasted. Freddie fainted on the spot.

“What-what-is-that?” I stuttered.

“Maverick, boy, you of all the people should be knowin’ that’s not a what but a who. I’d like to introduce you to Mathilde, my parasitic twin.”

Underneath Serafine’s robe a small body hung limply. But it didn’t look human and was barely formed. Basically, just a small head, a one foot-long leg, a squished torso, and two short arms. It was like somebody royally messed up putting a fleshy Mrs. Potatohead together and glued the toy to Serafine’s stomach. And this strange entity Serafine referred to as her twin, had one sleep-encrusted eye open, blinking rapidly.

“Greetings,” hissed Mathilde. Then, she winked at me.

I shivered, despite the heat, and knelt down to check on Freddie. A little woozy, he was just coming to. I stayed crouched down with Snaggletooth and my now hyperventilating friend. Not only did I want to make sure my buddy wasn’t hurt, this was by far the most disturbing thing I’d ever seen. I don’t think I could have stood if I wanted to. Hey, I may have some issues of my own, but even Mathilde went far beyond my comprehension.

“Serafine, the light from the candle is blinding me. You know I’m sensitive to light,” whined the super-oddity.

Freddie nearly passed out again. I propped him up, but he wouldn’t look in Serafine’s direction.

“Maverick, see, I’m just like you,” Serafine said, closing the robe. “We’re both special. However, with my third eye--”

“I hate being called that,” came the muffled voice from under the robe.

“Because of my sister,” continued Serafine. “Our vision is stronger than most. And you, Maverick, as our visions have told us, are destined for greatness. You must have faith in your senses, your instincts. You just need a little more fortune on your side. More than those gator feet give ya.”

“Alligator feet are lucky?” mumbled Freddie. “Because if we didn’t have bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

Maverick is back in the building...

2009-03-26T21:34:00.000-07:00

And he's better than ever...

Yeah, I don't do normal well. This book is like The Wizard of Oz...on steroids.

Here's an excerpt, featuring one of the many odd characters that Maverick meets:

I turned around to face a man who resembled Elvis Presley – not young Elvis, but old, bloated Elvis. He had slick-backed, greasy hair, giant glasses - the kind that bug someone’s eyes all out -, a funky cowboy hat with twinkling lights, and dirty overalls held up with a belt– its shiny, silver buckle as big as your head. No shirt. He eyed the woman behind the counter.

“Most people,” he said, sounding like he had marbles in his mouth, “they think old Henriette is dead and gone. Truth is, she well over a hundred years old and I just don’t have the heart to let the woman go.” Freddie stared at me, both of us unsure how to respond. Scary Elvis looked us over. “Whachew boys doin out so late? Running away from home, I reckon?”

“No,” I explained. “We’re running away from the circus.” The man chuckled and motioned for me to carry on. “And we need a place to stay tonight.”

“Twenty bucks, right?” inquired Freddie.

“Thas right.” He hooked his thumbs into his overall straps, rocked back and forth on his cowboy-clad heels, and smiled. His teeth jutted out of his mouth like square, yellow Chiclets. “And I’ll need to see some iden-ti-fa-ca-tion.”

“We don’t have any,” I said. “Why do we need them?”

“It’s the law ‘round here, boys. So we’ll just done and have to get you some.” Scary Elvis began to walk away. “Whachew kids waitin’ for a par-ade? Follow me and I’ll get you sorted out.” He opened the door and we followed him into the dark alley. “The name’s Billy Bob Lafitte. But most people ‘round these parts calls me the General. This is my joint, this is my hood, and I’d like to welcome y’all to The Big Easy.”

Billy Bob walked up to the pile of “screaming newspapers” and tossed them aside. Under them slept a boy, probably my age. “Gad night a living,” screeched Billy Bob. “Well, if that don’t put the cayenne pepper in the gumbo. I reckon I told you not to sleep in my alley. It don’t make a good impression for my paying customers. Now git, before I knock you so hard you’ll see tomorrow today!”

Some filthy, bug-eyed kid scrambled off the ground, brushed himself off, stuck out his tongue, and ran towards the main street with his arms outstretched. He wasn’t wearing shoes, or pants, just a t-shirt, a red cape, and blue underwear.

Freddie tried to hold back his laughter. I thought his brain might come out of his nose he snorted so hard.

“Tell your mama I’ll be home late, son,” Billy Bob yelled to the strange, running boy. Then he shook his head in disbelief and muttered, “Boy is so dumb he could throw himself on the ground and miss. Couldn’t even find a pair of dungarees. His gate don’t latch tight, if you catch my drift.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger twice, opened up a rusty door, and led us into a dark and dingy hallway. We could hear the bar’s music and laughter swell as we walked through the back of the building. The lingering scent of stale beer and cigarettes made me gag.

“Careful of the stairs,” Billy Bob said, almost falling. “They’re slippery than snot on a glass doorknob. And careful of the hole. Been meaning to have it fixed.”

Nope, this definitely wasn’t the Ritz.

We were led into a small room that was more like a closet. He turned on the light, the kind where you yank the chain on the ceiling and it swings back and forth in the air. Of course, more mice-sized cockroaches scattered into the cracked cement walls. A wobbly desk sat in the center of the floor, a map of Louisiana hung on the wall. Besides those two things, wires hung down from the ceiling. Otherwise the room was bare, like an interrogation room at a police station. Billy Bob closed the door, reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny…

“Don’t shoot us, please!” I screamed. “I didn’t mean to upset Peaches so badly and Grumbling hates my guts. You seem like a nice guy. Can’t we talk about this?”

“Easy now, boy, ain’t nobody hurting you. You’re jumpier than a crawdad on a hot-buttered skillet. I’m just fixin’ to shoot y’all’s picture, that’s all.”

Billy Bob held up a digital camera and played around with it, mumbling, “Now, let’s see if I remember how to use this thang. I think this is the on button…”

Book Cover Mock Up...

2009-03-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

Played around with some "faux" book cover concepts...

Thank the gods for royalty free images that only cost $1.00...

What children's writer I am?

2009-03-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

According to a facebook quiz...

S.L. took Which Children's Writer Are You? quiz and the result is Astrid Lindgren

The Non-conformist. If everyone is going one direction, you'll find a way to go the other. Rules are for other people. Yours is a spirit of freedom, not rebellion, and normal is boring. A keen imagination, you would enjoy nothing more than telling wild stories of adventures on the high seas while eating a pancake breakfast on the porch. Horses and monkeys are your favorite.

About right – except for one thing...

Tigers are my favorite.

At least the quiz got my mantra dead on. Normal IS boring.

Huge Congrats to two members of the fab five

2009-03-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

Our very own twisted sisters - Lisa and Laura - have landed an incredible agent! Now represented by Catherine Drayton of Inkwell Management, their book Finding Grace will be making its rounds to publishers soon.

WAY TO GO!!! WOO HOO!

As predicted...the Fab Five are going to rock the writing world. We're all so happy for you!

WORK IT! (sara this is for you)

2009-03-09T16:51:00.000-07:00

Words to live by...

2009-03-09T11:42:00.001-07:00

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”

M. Scott Peck