Beltane and Buffy

April 30 is my favorite of the eight sabbats. Beltane/May Eve is a harbinger of summer honored with fabulous festivals replete with fires and dancing. The world of Nightshade is steeped in the tradition and history of witchcraft and Wolfsbane draws readers deeper into that world. To celebrate this holiday I'm holding a contest and the winner will receive a Wolfsbane ARC!

Since my last blog post touted the greatness of Buffy I want to have a Beltane Buffy quiz. May is the fifth month of the year, so here are five of my favorite quotes from Buffy. Correctly identify the Buffy character delivered each of the five quotes and you'll be in the running to win the ARC.
1) "What's the matter Watcher? Life flash before your eyes? Cup o' tea, cup o' tea, almost got shagged, cup o' tea?"

2) "Forgiveness makes us human, blah, blah, blah."

3) "Rain of toads. One minute its 'oh no, pop quiz' and now it's rain of toads."

4) "That's beautiful...or taken literally incredibly gross."

5) "Bored now."

Good luck! Entries taken until 12 a.m. May 1.

Please leave your answers in the comments section. This contest is open to international entries!

Heathen much?

A happy and blessed Beltane!

Beltane, sometimes called May Eve, is one of the eight Sabbats. If you want to celebrate right, you should get yourself to Scotland for the Fire Festival.
If you're interested in gaining eternal beauty, be sure to climb the highest hill in your neighborhood and wash your face in the morning dew.

Pagan lore plays a big part in Nightshade's world, but since my book isn't available until October (Samhain anyone??) I thought today would be a good day to recommend some of my favorite books that are steeped in history and the old ways.

Melissa Marr's Wicked Lovely series is gorgeously written and thoroughly researched, reflecting Melissa's graduate work in gender studies and a sharp eye for folklore. It's a good time to start reading her work too - as the fifth book in the series, Radiant Shadows, was just released.

Maggie Stiefvater gained fame for her wolfie Shiver series, but her first books focused on the realm of faerie. Lament and Ballad are wonderful and heartbreaking. Pick them up!

And just 'cause I'm always a bit evil, I'll recommend another 2010 debut that releases a month before my own baby. Brenna Yovanoff's The Replacement is delicious and dark, frequently terrifying and not for the faint of heart, offering an original and haunting depiction of faerie seeping into our world. Brenna and I are Penguin buddies and I'm thrilled that both our books are featured as part of the Penguin Five promotion (I will post more on what that means soon).(Yes, I have an ARC, and yes I just might be giving it away in a contest...If you think the cover looks cool here, wait till you see it in person. Soooooo shiny and beautiful!)

Have a wonderful May Eve and if the books above don't make it clear - you should not mess with the Fey.

Death and the Dandelion

Today - a tie-in to the spring flowers post with this caveat: apologies to any lawn warriors out there - I'm sorry, but I don't see the world the way Scott's turf builder worshipers do.

That said, when I was out walking & taking photographs of spring's bouquet the other afternoon, I also saw this.
One of my neighbors was systematically going through his yard and the green space on the curb, pulling out offending dandelions and tossing their carcasses on the pavement.

And it made my heart hurt.

Plants jerked from the soil, roots and all; left to die in heaps, like garbage.

I'm not a big fan of the designation "weeds" for many a wildflower. I understand that some people like uniformity and neatness.

But to me, dandelions are pure joy.
How can you not love that brilliant, sunshine yellow. And after the lemony brightness fades, you have a bloom full of wishes waiting to happen.
Where is the bad?

Yet dandelions are cast offs. They are yanked from the earth and scorned. I don't like it. I choose to cherish dandelions no matter how often they are cursed by lawn tyrants. Grass isn't natural. Dandelions are.

One of my favorite snippets of wisdom comes from Thich Nhat Hahn:

I have lost my smile, but don't worry.
The dandelion has it.
Somehow I believe the world would be a better place if we all could keep this thought in mind.

Scarcity

I'm terrible at waiting. Patience is a virtue I lack. So as you can imagine waiting for my book's release in October is hard. Very hard. I feel guilty in saying this because in the world of publishing my book sale and release happened incredibly fast. But the waiting is still hard.

Spring chides me for this impatience.

I'm a goal-oriented person. I work fast and obsessively, which is good because it means I accomplish a lot quickly. But there's a price to be paid for being oriented always toward the horizon.

It's too easy to miss what's happening in the moment.

Unlike most years where dirty slush gives way to sudden hot weather, Minnesota is experiencing a phenomenon: spring. We're finally getting a taste of this elusive season.

Spring is precious because of its rarity and brevity. The earth and air crackle with energy as slumbering plants burst to life. I can't help but pause, enjoying each moment that leaves unfurl and flowers peek out of the dark soil.

Some of my favorite blooms appear, ever so briefly, in this season:

the unassuming grace of lily of the valleythe intoxicating perfume of lilac
the sweetness of tulips
the tender petals of narcissa
the joyful scent of apple blossoms

I'm trying my hardest to remember to pay attention and enjoy them because I know sooner than I imagine the fleeting beauty of spring flowers will give way to the lush riot of summer blossoms. Infant leaves of sparkling green will mature to rich emeralds by June.

Spring is a gift. No matter what I'm waiting for, I don't want to miss this season.

April Answers

Thanks for all the great questions! Here are answers:

From Anya:

How do you go about writing? Do you outline? The story arc or maybe each chapter and how do you develop your ideas/story and your characters?

My writing process is not so much a process as a reaction. A certain character or scene will get stuck in my head and I'll free write from there. I don't write in order, but write scenes as they come to me and then pull the scenes together.

In terms of arc and character development, I tend to think of my books as webs, not lines. The narrative spirals around a central character and her/his problem and then the web represents all the relationships - personal and environmental - connecting to that main problem.

The first time I outlined was for BLOODROSE and in that case I felt I had to outline because I already had so many scenes floating in my head I didn't want to forget anything.

Also..do you listen to music while writing?

Yes!

And do you feel like your characters "speak" to you and tell you what to write? :P

Ha! And, yes. While I wouldn't say they are dictating their dialogue to me, each character's voice is distinct and I'm often surprised by what they say. That happens to be one of my favorite parts of writing.

From Tina:

From what I can tell Niteshade is about Wolves and magic? Are these the only two elements that surround the universe or are there any other paranormal in this series?

It's about wolf warriors, called Guardians, and two factions of witches - Keepers and Searchers, who've been at war since the Middle Ages. That's all I can say without getting spoilery!

Do you have a playlist for the books? If yes, can you put it on your site for us to listen too?

I do have a playlist for my books and you can find a partial list here. I'll post the full list this summer as the release date gets closer. I can't post live links to the playlist because of copyright issues. Maggie Stiefvater just blogged about this frustration today. I wish I could post playable lists!

What kind of love story can we expect? A triangle perhaps? Or something complicated and juicy? ( Okay this one might be a spoiler one, so I don't expect an answer, but I had to ask;))

Yes, this is a bit spoilery and I have a strict no spoiler policy. What I will say is that there are two boys, Ren and Shay, and they make Calla's life very, very complicated.

Are you like any of the characters written in your work? Which one is your favorite?

I'm deeply attached to the whole pack, so picking a favorite is hard. I'd have to go with Ansel though. He's Calla's younger brother and is loosely based on my own younger brother. I also think Ansel is the character most like me because my brother and I are a lot alike!

I know that this series is only just starting and I think it's safe to say that your fans are already jumping up and down for October to come, but I was wondering if you have any plans or ideas to write something after this series?

Thanks so much! I'm jumping up and down for October to come too! There are three books and a prequel thus far in the Nightshade series. I'm also working on a YA steampunk series that you can read about here. But my writing time is nearly 100% consumed by Nightshade right now (which I love so it's fine), and it's likely that series will be a while in coming.


From Katarinasmama:

How many revisions did you do? And how did NIGHTSHADE's story change from it's initial version?

Hmmmmm. I did one round of revisions for my agent and another two for my editor...I think. It might have been three, but each time the revisions got lighter so the there were really two big rounds of revision.

I can't go into detail without revealing plot, but most of the changes were about offering more of Calla's inner dialogue (she doesn't like to share her feelings, so it was tough for even me to get them out of her) and switching up some timing of events in the narrative. The story itself is essentially the same.

From Anya:

How long did it take you to write the first draft of Nightshade? And then how long did the revisions take?:)

I wrote the first draft of Nightshade between Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2008. My agent, Charlie, requested the full ms in February 2009 and I got 'the call' from him at the beginning of March. I was at a conference in Seattle and it was 6:30 a.m. Pacific time (usually I'm in the central time zone) - that is by far the best early morning phone call I've ever gotten. I worked with Charlie on the manuscript in the spring and it went on submission that summer. Michael Green at Philomel pre-empted the series in August. My editor, Jill Santopolo, and I worked on revisions in September and then the book was off to copy edits!

Just an FYI - this pace is light-speed for publishing, I'm still amazed that I was so lucky to have my work picked up and moved onto the fall 2010 list so quickly as I'm terribly impatient. Waiting until October is hard enough! But it's much more usual to wait 18+ months for publication from the point of acquisition.

From Voidwalker:

Has there been any changes offered by your editor that made you cringe, but you did them anyway?

Are you trying to get me in trouble, Void? LOL. Seriously, I have an amazing editor who I trust completely. Jill understands my characters and the world of Nightshade so well and her suggestions are spot on. Whenever I have a question or am on the fence about an idea I can talk to her about it and we've never had trouble arriving at a solution we're both happy with. She is a rock star and I adore her.

On a related note to aspiring authors - you must be open to taking revision suggestions from critique partners, agents, and editors. Keep in mind that if you've done you're homework and found partners you trust, and an agent and publishing house that are the right fit for you, then everyone is on the same team. Everyone wants your book to be a success. Too often I think writers take an adversarial stance against agents and editors as if everyone is for some reason out to ruin their perfect book. There is no perfect book. Writing is a craft, you always are growing and improving with time. Your agents and editors are there to help you along the way. Be open minded to their ideas - you don't have to take them all, but you should listen with sincerity and realize that they are often right.

From Lynsey:

Andrea, as an aspiring writer who is currently working on my WIP, I'm really interested in your writing process. I've decided that I'm a bit of a "Pantser" but then I run into a brick wall and think "Hmm...I need an outline of where this is going I think". I also think that I struggle with dialogue scenes and I have to work on this. So, in conclusion - any advice and tips on the writing process please. Thank you! :)

It's awesome that you're writing Lynsey - keep at it! I've written a bit about my process above, but my advice is that it's pivotal to find your own process. Every writer I know works differently. Writing is such a personal craft that it's much better to learn what your style is and go with it. As much as there are writing advice manuals out there, I think at the end of the day it's really a matter of trial and error. It's also a great idea to find critique partners who you trust. I met my amazing critique partner, Lisa Desrochers, at the San Francisco Writers Conference. I don't know what I'd do without her!

As far as hitting a brick wall - it happens to all of us. When I run into that wall I turn to my number one scene creator: music. I either lay on my couch listening to music, or take a walk with my book's playlist on my iPod, it usually only takes a few minutes before new scenes or dialogue are filling my head.

Thanks so much for all the great questions guys! Watch for the next ARC giveaway coming soon!!

Chicken or Egg?

That's right - it's April!! Time for Q&A.

I'll take questions from now through Tuesday, April 6 and post ANSWERS in the Wednesday, April 7 blog post.

Happy Spring, Easter, Oestara!

Tag

Carrie Harris is it.

I'm all worn out from the blindingly awesome haiku contest.

Fortunately, the lovely Ms. Harris did an interview with me as part of the Pay it Forward Author Series.

Have a great weekend and happy spring holidays!

This Easter bunny joke never fails to make me laugh:

Spring Dreams

Did anyone else have to memorize and recite the prologue to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales as part of the English major requirements in college?
It was one of my favorite requirements and had a lasting impression; when the snow begins to melt and sunlight overcomes darkness, I walk around with Chaucer's Middle English echoing in my mind.
Whan that aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of march hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye (so priketh hem nature in hir corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of engelond to caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

I know it's March first, and not April. But any hints of spring fling me into Chaucer's world. I love Chaucer - the courses I took on his work opened my eyes to so much about the evolution of language (Old and Middle English are amazing!) and how wrapped up the medieval world was in ancient lore and magic - each physical description, each tiny reference was a secret code revealing both plot and character in his tales. That mixture of history, myth, and magic stayed with me, finding a new home in Nightshade.

Now that February is behind us and March, though tempestuous, flings open the door to spring I can't help but be excited. Spring is coming at last.

Acronym Dreams

Those of you connected to the book/writing world are probably, like me, all too aware that the BEA takes place this week.

Those readers not connected to said professions just collectively went "Huh?"

BEA stands for Book Expo America. This mammoth love fest for writers, publishers, and agents takes place in New York City and features exhibitions of shiny new books, with shiny debut authors, and their shiny autograph pens.

Does my tone sound a little snarky? It is (sigh), only because I am totally, totally jealous of everyone who gets to be at BEA this week and especially of the shiny writing debutantes. I soooooo want to be one of those chosen authors who gets their two-hour signing slot at their publisher's booth.

BEA also offers a chance to snatch up ARCs. ARCs are Advanced Review Copies - books that won't be out until later this year, but if you pay $700.00 (yes, that is the correct figure I've just typed) to attend BEA you are able to purchase ARCs before they become available to the masses.

The ARCs I really want to get my hands on are Maggie Stiefvater's Shiver and Guillermo del Toro's The Strain.

Moreover BEA presents a fascinating glimpse of the book industry. Now I know any mention of the "industry" side of writing and publishing makes most writers curl up into a fetal position and I can hardly blame them, but I do harbor a (morbid?) fascination with the juggernaut of agents, editors, publishers, and distributors congregation in a single frenzied space of days to make the printing world go round.

I'd like to see it. I hope someday I will and as a participant, not just a spectator.

On another note, my neighborhood is currently subject to a strange natural phenomenon: a cotton explosion.

In front of our home grows a massive cottonwood tree and at the same time each year it sends millions of fluffy white spheres into the air.
The atmosphere is so thick with parachuting seeds a glance out the window would make you think it's snowing in May (unfortunately in Minnesota that would not be a completely unheard of occurence, but thankfully in this case that isn't what's happening).
(Many thanks to Gwyn and Rocco for posing in this photo, under normal circumstances they'd be standing only on green grass rather than a layer of what looks like a cross between snow and dense cobwebs. Go spring!)

My Book is Like a...

I often claim autumn as my season of choice, but I have to admit there's something special about spring.

One of my favorite films has always been Legend, and in an early scene the princess, Lily, romps through a spring forest where the air is alive with pollen and seeds.



My apologies to allergy sufferers, but when I was strolling the neighborhood today the atmosphere danced with parachuting dandelion fluff and tree seedlings, and the world was magic.

I love walking my dogs this time of year. I pass through a veil of heady scent created by the amalgam of lilac, honeysuckle, and apple blossom. When spring holds its brief court, one can move through the world utterly drenched in sensation.

The experience got me to thinking about metaphors and similes. Eric had a great post on this topic recently, but I wanted to bring home the point from a different angle.

Writers often use metaphors and similes to describe their work. Have you heard the following?

"My book is my baby."

"My novel is a cross to bear."

"Writing is like therapy."

To name just a few...

I fall into the use of such metaphors and similes to describe my own writing, but in the midst of spring a new idea popped into my brain.

My book is like a garden.

I don't have a yard, just a small deck on which I use terracotta pots to grow herbs and flowers. This year I'm experimenting with tomatoes and peppers as well, we'll see how that goes.

My favorite flower is the morning glory. Perhaps this choice seems mundane, but morning glories (though persistent once established) are fussy flowers. They cannot be transplanted; thus, in order to grow the lovelies you have to start them from seeds.

Now I realize all plants at some point started from seeds. Yet at the same time I can't stop feeling that some sort of miracle has occurred when I put scored seeds into a small pot of soil and a few days later tiny green shoots have pushed their way up toward the sun. I now have several pots of tender morning glories growing. I sit and stare at the miniscule plants, their tender leaves stretching out into the luscious heart shapes that characterize morning glories, and marvel at the tenacity that seeds contain.

In contemplating the lives of annuals, I decided my book is a like a garden. It needs tending and the warmth of the sun. If neglected, weeds will take over and prevent its full blooming. It fares well with watering and fertilization and its beauty is best appreciated when shared with others.

Above all, its very existence remains something of a miracle.

Sky Watcher

Driving across the city this afternoon, I was mired in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I didn't mind because of the clouds.

Spring's first thunderstorm rolled through today. Sporadic booms and lightning flashes peppered the afternoon. Globular missiles of rain pelted the ground. I find it intriguing that raindrops have diverse sizes.

I anticipate thunderstorms, even long for them. Unlike many people I know, I've never been frightened by them.

While I sat with an idling engine, I watched a jet liner climb into the sky heading straight for a massive, steel-grey nimbus cloudbank. It was like seeing a sparrow fly into a dragon's gaping maw.

I actually enjoy flying through storms, despite the discomfort of turbulence. I've wished for a long time for some means by which I could make the clouds my home. I love the shape of clouds, their constant fluidity and movement, the endless varieties in which they manifest. I feel a new story coming on.

My brother and I have shared many conversations about the different forms of flying dreams we have. Mine always require that I have a running start for take off. Sometimes in the dreams I'm me, human yet capable of flight, at others I'm a bird. Once I was a swan, in another dream a seagull.

Flying dreams have been among my most profound and I leave them waking into a state of bemused contentment, as if through the dream I've touched something profound.

What do dreams do for you?

Spring Musings

It's warm enough to bask in the sunlight sans jacket or sleeves. I sometimes think the brutality of northern winters is worth the ecstatic shock of change when the days finally lengthen and the earth pulses beneath your feet, full of heat and life.

It makes me feel like this:

Or this:

















In other news, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick passed away this weekend. Her pathbreaking scholarship had a major influence on my own intellectual trajectory. Here is a great discussion of her contribution to scholarship.

I was terribly disheartened by some the comments following the article, which reveal that despite phenomenal studies like those produced by Sedgwick, we still have a long, long way to go. Along with #amazonfail, it's enough to call in the rainclouds to darken my lovely spring mood.

Let go of the hate, people. Please.

What's All This Writing About?

I'm getting a lot of questions about the book, so here's a basic overview.

Title: A Fine, Feathered Fate

Genre: Teen Fantasy

Synopsis: Eliza can't face another day working on her family's farm. She's tired of smelling like manure and pulling straw from her tangled hair when she goes to bed at night. Even as she plots her escape whilst gathering eggs in the hen hutch, Eliza reaches under a clucking chicken and pulls out an egg that is...hollow.

Not only does this egg lack a scrumptious yolk, but its tiny golden latch springs open to reveal a tightly curled note that reads: Wait.

Day by day Eliza returns to the hen hutch to find more and more notes tucked within hollow eggs. She can't bear to leave the farm without unraveling the mystery of each message. Where are the hollow eggs coming from? Who is writing the notes?

The chickens seem pretty normal (and illiterate) except for the rooster, who has taken to following Eliza everywhere she goes on the farm. He's always crowed by Eliza's window at dawn, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence uncharacteristic of vapid chickendom. What could the rooster's strange behavior mean? Is he really a rooster at all? A villain? Prince charming trapped in a feathered, beaked body? Can Eliza save them both from a life of monotonous plowing, planting, and commercial farm production?

The world may never know.

Happy April Fools.

Seriously now, since my novel is with an agent and about to be submitted I can't post about it. When I'm able I will and hope to share lots of good news with all of you.

It's snowing in Minneapolis today - an April Fool's joke from Mother Nature that seems to be repeated in Minnesota every year.

March Goes Out Like a Disgruntled Carnie

This morning my car looked like it had been attacked by someone wielding an ash-flavored slushee. All day the sky has spit chunks of icy rain, littering the ground with treacherous, near-invisible slick spots.

I know this is all part of the winter to spring transition, but I much prefer robin spotting and tree buds.

Turning of the Tide (of Light)

Posting from Chicago where I was happy to catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan. Unlike Superior (my home lake), Michigan often takes on that Caribbean aqua shade, which strikes discordant against the still-barren March landscape.

Gave a paper at the Newberry; am now wrapped in terry bathrobe at hotel. Our bathtub at home is sadly lacking in tubworthiness, so I take advantage of long soaks in deep bathtubs when I travel. This is my second bath since arriving in Chicago. Relaxed, warm, and happy (sigh).

In case you didn't notice, it's the spring equinox (Oestara for any would-be pagans out there). Welcome to the rising light side of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. Oestara is the reason that bunnies, chicks, and eggs appear in time for Easter (if you're noticing a similarity in the words that's no coincidence). In the same way of Christmas trees, pagan symbols of fertility and rebirth were incorporated into Christendom as a type of syncretism meant to win over converts by drawing together old and new holidays.

The Puritans wouldn't celebrate Christmas because they thought it was much too pagan to be a Christian holiday. They were pretty down on May Pole dancing too. Go figure.

I'll be enjoying the lengthening twilight and waiting for the trees to leaf out into that dazzling, fresh green that only appears when their tiny curls first unfold.

Break and Breathe

Deep breath. Spring break has arrived.

For those of you who don't get a spring break as part of your working year, my apologies. Spring break offers a much longed-for reprieve from what has been a chaotic semester. As an added bonus, this week brings weather predicted to be sunny and in the 50s. For those of you in warmer climes, 50 degrees coming off of a Minnesota winter is sub-tropical. Some spring breaks bring snow emergencies.

So what are my plans for spring break? Sleep. Read. Write. Repeat as needed.

The Short, Hard Month

Only eight days of February left and I couldn't be happier about it. The sentiment barreled me into musings about why the hardest month of the year (at least in the northern climes) has the least number of days.

An investigation revealed that in fact the brevity of this month has nothing to do with weather sorrows (because, of course, it's not this frickin cold everywhere!) but instead with Roman emperors' egos.

Whatever the reason I welcome the close of this frigid 28 days with much rejoicing and await Oestara with not enough patience. Long twilight, warm earth, budding trees all become the stuff of dreams at this point in the year - seeming impossible beneath the shield of ice and snow. March arrives to ease the burden of belief.

Winter Sun

February 1.

We've made it. January is gone. I don't know whether I'd go so far as to call January the most challenging month of the year - but in my book it's close. This year in particular, when we only had one day above 32 degrees and far too many below zero, I welcome January's departure with a hearty hurrah.

Yesterday, when the long-awaited thaw finally arrived and 45 degrees felt like being baked on a tropical beach, the hard packed snow was cut through with rivers of slush and innumerable tiny cricks that flowed along the sidewalk.

But that was yesterday. When winter returned overnight and hung around to greet February, all that abundant melting froze. Now the sidewalks are sheets of ice that make dog walking an extreme sport.

The point of all this ranting (though I do believe ranting is a valid end in itself)? As I shuffled (the only safe way to move on the ice paths that line my neighborhood) along with my two dogs this morning, I realized how unfortunate it is that my eyes had to stay on the sidewalk.

The winter sky deserves more attention. A stark wash of blue. The sun pale and always a little hazy. Austere colors made all the more striking by the snaking dark branches of leafless trees that break up the endless expanse above. And at night. Ah night. The stars glitter more brightly against that cold black canvas. Light and oblivion.

Winter conditions draw our eyes down. Stomping boots, breath that materializes before us and then fades away, treacherous slipping feet as we try to make our way forward. Hesitant, irritable, impatient for the spring.

And winter's grace escapes us.

Dangerous though it may be, I'll be looking up more from now on. It's worth the risk.