Writing-specific resolutions, when realistic and manageable, can be great motivators. But because publication can be such a long and challenging process (for aspiring writers as well as those already published), fraught with uncertainty and disappointment and emo-coasterness, big resolutions can quickly become debilitating.

The moment we show up at the computer (or parchment, if you’re that guy at the party), even before we complete that first scene, our peanut gallery brains start with the running commentary:

Who are you kidding? This is the worst idea ever. No one is going to read it. And even if they do, it doesn’t matter, because you’re never going to finish. And even if you do, how are you going to find an agent or publisher? You’re not good enough to stand out against the competition. And even if you are, what’s the point? It’s not like you’re going to get a good advance or anything. And even if you did, you wouldn’t get another one after that, because your reviews are going to suck and sales are going to suck and you’ll be blacklisted by the publishing cabal and forced to burn all those unsold copies just to stay warm in your little hovel because you stupidly quit your day job thinking you could write when you clearly can’t and now you’ll probably starve…

Our frail human egos are easily crushed, and so we’re all, “yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll go watch Cupcake Wars and forget about this crazy writing idea.”

I’ve gone toe to toe with the peanut gallery. Like, as recently as last night. And that’s why I don’t like making traditional “resolutions” (unless they involve eating cupcakes). They’re simply too big by nature, with too many opportunities for criticism and defeat. In the face of such mounting challenges, it’s easy to overwhelm ourselves into a state of complete inertia.

Speaking of which…

*Begin long-winded metaphor here*

Just Make the Bed

Shortly after the turn of the millennium (now that makes me sound old!), I was going through a major change, accompanied—as major changes often are—by upheaval, uncertainty, and fear. Everyone around me knew that I wasn’t handling things in a positive way, but I was so busy assuring them (and myself) that things were going “according to plan” that I didn’t realize that A) there was no plan anywhere in sight, and B) even if someone had given me a plan, in triplicate, I would’ve lost all three copies, and C) denial is an addictive and readily available—yet ultimately ineffective—medicine.

Denial only lasts for so long. And when the haze wore off, I finally noticed that everything was a mess, inside and out. Instead of trying to address the issues and do something about them, I saw them all at once as one ginormously insurmountable disaster. I became completely immobilized. I seriously couldn’t even clean my tiny bedroom.

Exhibits A and B:

No, this was not move-in day. This was like, 3 months after move-in day, still untouched. And yes, the stereo has probably been on the entire time because I couldn’t find the plug or reach the buttons. And yes, those are baskets full of… other baskets. What else would they be?

And below, yes, that is part of an un-walled living room in the background. You’d be amazed at what passes for a “2 bedroom apartment” in New York.

Even Curious George, who’d grown quite curious indeed as to the state of things, crawled out of the rubble and passed out on a pillow near the headboard, his hands and feel curled in defeat like so many dead things that probably lurked undetected under that very bed.

I was just one more basket full of basket-filled baskets away from my own episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive. I needed major help. Like a house elf. Or Pet Monster (who was only just my boyfriend then, and who had pretty much no idea what he was signing up for with me, poor little monster). Dobby wasn’t available, so Pet Monster came over in his stead, surveyed the mess, and formulated a Grand Master Plan (not to be confused with his Funkmaster Plan, which can’t really fix a messy bedroom or neglected finances, but does involve some pretty sweet dance moves).

“Just make the bed,” he said. “That’s all you have to do right now.”

My first response came with its usual melodrama: whining and naysaying, thrashing about, a rather unsubtle rolling of the eyes. “But everything is such a mess. I can’t even—”

“Just make the bed.” He repeated it about ten times, never losing patience. By the eleventh time, I think I was full-blown crying. Then Pet Monster, who probably wanted to smack me in the mouth with the stuffed monkey, took my hand and led me over to the bed to start the process (one of us more grudgingly than the other, not naming names, but her initials are ME). Together, we cleared off the mess, tightened up the sheets, tucked everything in, smoothed out the comforter, and neatly arranged the pillows and poor Curious George, who got a good dusting and some CPR and still looked a bit weary from his ordeal.

We took a step back. The bed was made. It looked nice. Homey. My heart warmed a little (not enough to inspire me to take a picture of the clean version of things. I mean, the internet barely existed back then, and I had a… are you ready for this? A film camera! Clearly I didn’t foresee needing so much photographic evidence to help me carry this giant-stretch-of-a-metaphor ten years later). Suddenly, after completing that one little task, the insurmountable mess didn’t seem so daunting. I relaxed. Took a few deep breaths. Stopped complaining (out loud, anyway).

Then Pet Monster said, “Now all we have to do is unpack that one box. That’s it. One box.” Thirty boxes is impossible, but one box isn’t, I reasoned. I could handle it. After all, I’d just made the bed—a feat only moments earlier I didn’t think I could achieve. So we unpacked the one box, putting everything in its right place. And then tackled another box. And another. Then I folded laundry. Arranged my bookshelves. Dusted. Swept. Filed files. And eventually, what was once an uninhabitable disaster area transformed into a bedroom again.

Not too long after that, I started putting the rest of my life back together, too, one manageable step at a time. Pet Monster stood by my side through it all, reminding me to “just make the bed” whenever I started getting myself all worked up and overwhelmed, and eventually he married me, despite my tendency toward melodrama and my inability to properly clean my room and my special obsession with long-winded metaphoric blog posts. But neither of us ever forgot that day, that one seemingly small moment that became such a turning point in my life—something I would grow to look back on in the face of any challenge: writing, publishing, or otherwise.

One Writers’ Resolution To Rule Them All: Make the Freaking Bed

The journey to publication (and what comes after) is long and fraught with many stresses. Depending on how far we want to push this messy bedroom metaphor thing, one could say the path is littered with half-unpacked boxes, mateless socks, baskets upon baskets of yet more baskets, rabid dust bunnies and the confused stuffed monkeys desperate to escape them… (I think authors are the monkeys in this scenario, and Goodreads has some connection to the baskets, but beyond that, it kind of breaks down into something much less discernible…)

The point is, it’s easy to get overwhelmed, to fret about the what-ifs of what may or may not lie ahead and to give up—sometimes before we’ve finished our first novels or even the first chapters. But of all the crazy ups and downs, book trends and new formats, publishing industry turnover, blog posts and articles and Tweets lamenting the end of reading as we know it, confusing or infuriating reviews, competition for agents and shelf space, celebrity book deals, only one thing is certain in this business: You can do your best work and still, you might not find an agent / get published / create an ebook / become a best seller / insert your big writing resolution dream thingy here. But if you don’t write that first sentence, if you don’t finish that book, you definitely won’t ever find an agent or achieve any of those other dreams.

As you face the challenges of a new year, whenever you sit down to type that first sentence, or that last sentence on your work-in-progress, or that query letter, or that proposal, or that marketing plan, remember: In that moment, that’s your bed. And making it is all you need to worry about. You’re writing one sentence or one scene, not a book. You’re writing a query letter, not obsessing about whether you’ll ever find an agent or a publisher. You’re brainstorming a new idea, not making yourself sick over how the best seller lists work or who got a movie deal or how many one- or five-star reviews you’ll get (there will be a time when those are your beds, and then you’ll be fretting so hardcore about how to stop fretting over such things that you’ll work yourself up into a nervous breakdown from which only copious amounts of chocolate cupcakey goodness can save you… *looks at self pointedly*).

So writers, please forget about the sweeping resolutions this year. All you have to do is walk over to your bed. Tighten the sheets. Pull up the comforter. Arrange the pillows and stuffed animals. And take a deep breath. You’re fine. You can do this.

Bittersweet officially hits the shelves today!

*Cue winter wonderland confetti!*

Bittersweet is my third novel. Like Mom used to say to my brothers and me, I love all three equally. Only she was lying, because clearly I’m her favorite. And I’m talking about books, not kids. I don’t have kids. If I did, I would probably love them all equally, but who knows? The potential lovability of your unborn children. The actual end of the world. Who can predict such things?

Anyway, every book—its characters, its story, its journey—has been meaningful and special to me. But Bittersweet has earned a unique place in my heart that’s made the countdown to its release date even more exciting (and nail-biting) than usual.

Maybe it’s because the story unfolds in the winter and the book itself comes out in winter, my favorite time of year for curling up with a blanket, hot chocolate, and a good book. Or maybe because it takes place in a loosely fictionalized version of the area where I spent most of my childhood freezing my butt off. Or maybe because the cover is all glittery and yummy. Or maybe—most likely, if we’re being honest—because it prominently features two of my favorite things:

and

Yes, the intensive research required for this book was excruciating, let me tell you… *coughcough*

Sweet stuff aside, here’s a bit more about Bittersweet:

Once upon a time, Hudson knew exactly what her future looked like. Then a betrayal changed her life, and knocked her dreams to the ground. Now she’s a girl who doesn’t believe in second chances… a girl who stays under the radar by baking cupcakes at her mom’s diner and obsessing over what might have been.

So when things start looking up and she has another shot at her dreams, Hudson is equal parts hopeful and terrified. Of course, this is also the moment a cute, sweet guy walks into her life…and starts serving up some seriously mixed signals. She’s got a lot on her plate, and for a girl who’s been burned before, risking it all is easier said than done.

It’s time for Hudson to ask herself what she really wants, and how much she’s willing to sacrifice to get it. Because in a place where opportunities are fleeting, she knows this chance may very well be her last…

If you’d like to check it out, you can pick up a copy from your favorite local bookstore or order online (note that B&N has the old cover showing for the hardcover edition—just a temporary glitch):

IndieBound | B&N | Amazon

If you’re in the Denver area, come see me at my favorite local bookstore, Tattered Cover in Highlands Ranch, on January 11th at 7PM. I’ll sign stuff and answer questions and most likely embarrass myself with my overzealous cupcake and hockey boy fangirling. Don’t miss it!

Happy New Year, all, and of course… happy reading!

A critique partner or group member is essentially charged with three things:

1. Giving feedback.

A critique partner evaluates ideas, chapters, or manuscripts from fellow writers and offers constructive feedback on how to make them stronger, clearer, and more marketable. She examines big picture elements like character development, plot, scene construction, and pacing, and might also suggest ways to tighten and clarify language. She might suggest comparable titles for the writer to examine or recommend specific craft books and articles to help the writer work through some of his trouble spots.

Not all critiquers are created equally, and giving clear, constructive feedback is a skill that takes time and practice to master. Often, groups will comprise at least a few of these ineffective critiquers:

• Mr. Nice Guy lavishes praise and glosses over weak spots, concerned with sparing a writer’s feelings rather than helping her strengthen the manuscript. His critiques are the equivalent of mothers who encourage their tone-deaf children to try out for American Idol, only to see them embarrassed on on national TV. Nice’s feedback is a pat on the back—pleasant but not helpful.
• The Brut is the opposite of Mr. Nice Guy. He takes sadistic pleasure in tearing down other writers and often reminds people of his vast experience and knowledge. There’s no mincing words with The Brut as he tells a writer exactly how to fix something—his way. While Brut’s keen eye for weaknesses may be an asset, his delivery leaves writers bruised and battered, unable to glean anything positive from the experience.
• Can’t See the Forest is adept at identifying spelling and grammar issues but misses the big picture. Her best friend is the red pen, and her services are best saved for a final polish rather than a work-in-progress critique.
• Can’t See the Trees offers comments so broad that they could be applied to any manuscript. She says things like, “I don’t like the main character,” “The plot doesn’t make sense,” or simply, “I don’t get it.” While she may have legitimate concerns, she is unable to articulate them in a constructive way.
• All About Me sees everything through the lens of her own experiences and can’t imagine characters or situations beyond that limited realm. She says things like, “This doesn’t work. I would never have done that when I was a teen.” or “Your teen narrator is unrealistic. My daughter doesn’t talk like that.” Her refusal to acknowledge the reality beyond her own front door makes her advice questionable and ill-informed.
• The Skimmer waits until the last minute and speed-reads through the pages, making a few cursory notes. When meeting in person, he waits until others give their feedback and then poaches it. His critiques are superficial, lacking context, and generally useless.
• The Refuser has a long list of topics and situations she doesn’t like or that conflict with her beliefs, and the moment one appears on the page, she refuses to read. To be fair, some readers are genuinely unable to read about certain emotionally triggering events, but rather than letting the author know about her concerns in advance, The Refuser waits until it’s time to offer feedback and then throws in a casual “I don’t read books like this” or ignores the submission altogether.

When it comes to giving feedback, the ideal critique partner is a careful, considerate reader who offers a balance of personal opinion and objective advice based on her knowledge of craft, literature, and the marketplace. She’s not afraid to criticize, yet she does so constructively with tact and care. She may offer solutions or alternatives, but she doesn’t rewrite the project as her own. Instead, she poses questions like, “Have you thought about this?” or “What do you think of this idea?” designed to help the reader explore her own creative solutions. She keeps an open mind about others’ work, but if she’s truly unable to read about a specific topic or situation, she discusses it with the writer in an objective, professional manner and offers to read a different submission, if possible. If she’s unable to complete a reading in a timely manner, she makes arrangements with the writer to turn in her detailed feedback at a later date.

2. Receiving feedback.

It may seem like an easy task to sit quietly and absorb the constructive criticism others offer, but like giving feedback, receiving it—and incorporating it in a meaningful way—is a learned skill. Writers may lack confidence or feel attacked during a critique, particularly if the critiquer exhibits some of the negative traits above. Good feedback may be conflicting, leaving the writer confused about how to address the issue. And some writers, despite the fact that they’re involved in a critique group, don’t like having their work dissected and criticized. All of this angst can suck the creative energy from the group.

No one loves to receive negative feedback, but some people make the process even more difficult and create a toxic environment for everyone involved:

• The Nod-and-Smiler lacks confidence in her work and dutifully incorporates every bit of feedback she’s given, even if it waters down her manuscript or turns it into a hodgepodge of randomness. She’s reluctant to ask questions or contribute to any meaningful debate about craft and style, and her lack of participation and progress weakens the group.
• The Defender is quick to justify his choices in the face of all constructive criticism. He’s often belligerent and specializes in criticizing mistakes in others’ work that he makes tenfold. The Defender often joins workshops and critique groups seeking validation that he’s already awesome, so he’s not really open to feedback that might actually help him become a better writer.
• The Eye-Roller is closely related to The Defender, but is quieter about her dissent. She internally scoffs at criticism, often wondering what she’s doing with a bunch of amateurs who simply don’t understand a work of literature when they see one. Like The Defender, The Eye-Roller may also seek validation rather than helpful advice and, because of her inflexibility and unwillingness to learn, is unlikely to achieve her publication goals.
• Poor Me cannot separate constructive criticism of his work from criticism of his person. He internalizes negative feedback and is quick to give up rather than work hard to overcome writing obstacles. It’s difficult to help Poor Me because his emotional reactions often illicit feelings of guilt, causing the critiquer to default to unhelpful Mr. Nice Guy behavior.

When it comes to receiving feedback, the ideal critique partner understands that constructive criticism is integral to a writer’s growth. She appreciates and considers all feedback, incorporating ideas that resonate with her and discarding those that don’t. She trusts her intuition when it comes to conflicting advice, and she knows how to dig beneath surface criticism to find the root of the issue. She’s not afraid to ask questions and follow up for clarification after she’s had time to consider her group’s comments. Above all, she understands that critique group members, like readers in the wild, are subjective; the book that one person despises may be another’s absolute favorite. Even in her darkest hour, when all else fails, she doesn’t give up writing. She simply starts a new project.

3. Moving beyond the critique.

If a writer is seeking traditional publication, at some point, he has to stop workshopping his manuscript and send that baby out into the world of agents and editors. But the querying process can be a frightening step—so frightening that some writers avoid it altogether. They become professional workshoppers, tinkering with their manuscripts line by line, researching and preparing for that next big step but never actually taking it. A good critique group can be a wonderful support system, but it’s not supposed to cocoon writers from the potentially harsh—and potentially rewarding—realities of publishing. Writers who rely on their group to shield them from next steps will find themselves, not surprisingly, unpublished. Their lack of progress and motivation can lend support to the fallacy that publication is an unattainable dream, a fantasy that no mere mortal can realize.

Instead of dragging her feet, the ideal critique partner works on her manuscript until she believes it’s the best it can be. She recognizes that this process could take months or even years, and she’s committed to it for the long haul. At the same time, she doesn’t rely on the group as her sole motivator for writing or use them as an excuse to avoid the next step. When her manuscript is ready, she queries actively and shares her experiences with the group so that they can learn from and support one another. Some members will be excited to see her striving for her goals. Others will be jealous, spiteful, and negative. Regardless, their feelings won’t prevent her from working hard, querying and re-querying, and starting new projects while she waits.

Ideal Critique Partners… Are You?

Writers, what do you think? Are you an ideal critique partner (at least most of the time), or do you recognize yourself in some of these ineffective feedback styles? Those of you who’ve worked in groups or partnerships, have you noticed any other helpful or detrimental critiquer characteristics? I’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments below.

(Especially for those who work from home in PJs and stay up all night with the vampires and frequently miss the window of opportunity for showers. *Ahem* not to name names…)

Anyway, flying solo isn’t bad. It’s part of the process, and the alone time is necessary to creating unique and powerful stories. So I say, turn off your phone, ignore your loved ones, embrace the loneliness (and the stinkyness, if you’re so inclined), and write like mad.

But at some point, even if no one else is speaking to you because you’ve ignored them for so long and/or you’ve become olfactorially offensive, you’ve gotta show that manuscript to someone! Even a maniacal literary genius (an unavoidable combination, if you ask me) can’t write forever in a vacuum—not if he wants to be published or gain a readership beyond his dog. Seeking external feedback from writers and other industry professionals is critical to writing (or revising) a good book, and it’s critical to a writer’s longterm growth and development.

One of the best ways to seek that feedback—along with some much-needed moral support—is through writers’ critique groups. In addition to getting objective opinions and (hopefully) helpful advice on your own work, reviewing the work of your peers is a great way to inform and inspire your own writing.

I’m a huge advocate of critique partnerships, either one-on-one, in groups, or through workshops that offer both craft lessons and critiques. In the right hands, a writer can really hone her craft, learning from and supporting her peers and contributing to valuable discussions about writing and literature. In a strong group, the bonds she forms with her fellow writers may even extend beyond her early writing days into the agent search, publication, and beyond.

Conversely, the wrong group can be toxic, rife with jealousy and inertia, stressful, and wholly detrimental to the writing process. It can suck the creative energy from even the strongest writer or worse—discourage her from writing altogether.

Finding a good critique group or partner is a huge challenge, but a worthwhile and totally attainable one. Like the search for a literary agent, doctor, babysitter, or soul mate, you just need to do some homework (i.e. Google stalking, chatting, and reference checking) before jumping into a longterm relationship.

Evaluating Critique Groups: 6 Crucial Questions

Whether you’re checking out an online or an in-person group, asking questions like these—either of the group moderator or of individual members—can reveal information about the group or partner’s working style and help determine whether you might be a good match. There are no guarantees for ultimate satisfaction, but the answers to some of these questions might make your initial decision a little easier:

1. Is this a general writing group or does it focus on specific genres? Many groups are open to a broad category of writers such as “novelists” or “short story writers,” especially in smaller communities where there simply aren’t as many people. However, reading is subjective, and while an adult historical fiction writer may be able to offer suggestions on the basics of a contemporary YA romantic plot, she might not be familiar with the nuances of today’s popular YA fiction, or she may have preconceived notions about what the category means and how it “should be” written. Many of my YA workshop students have come from general novel workshops where adult fiction writers who don’t read or care for YA are unnecessarily critical or unhelpful, simply because they aren’t qualified to critique young adult fiction. That’s why I recommend finding a group of writers who are experienced in your specific genre or category—and by experienced, I mean writers who not only write in your genre, but who read it avidly. I’m always surprised to meet aspiring writers who simply don’t read (but I’m not surprised that these folks don’t make the best critiquers).
2. How does the submission process work? You’ll want to find out how often and how much you’ll be expected or allowed to submit, and whether the group focuses on one member’s submission at a time or encourages a less structured everyone-submit-as-you-can dynamic. Also ask about the expected turn around time for giving and receiving feedback and the format in which feedback is given. Do members bring printed copies to in-person meetings? For online or email groups, do they mark up changes and comments in Word, respond directly in an email, or simply provide a summary of issues and suggested changes? How extensive is the feedback, generally speaking? Then ask yourself: Does this meet my needs? Can I commit to their schedule and format?
3. How long have most of the group members been writing? Has anyone been published? Chances are you’ll seek out a group of writers with similar experience levels, where most everyone is on equal footing. However, if possible, look for a group with at least one or two writers who are more advanced than you so that you can learn from their experience, and one or two who are less experienced to offer fresh ideas and perspectives. A mixed group can balance experience, enthusiasm, and creativity nicely. Above all else, keep an open mind—all writers, regardless of experience level or publication credentials—can learn from one another if the environment is nurturing and positive.
4. What are the goals of the writers in the group? Writers seeking traditional publication or looking to write as a full time career will have different expectations for and approaches to the writing and critique process than those who are writing as a hobby or for a school project. Look for writers with similar goals—you’ll have a mutual understanding of what’s at stake and what you’re all trying to achieve and you’ll be able to support each other through the various stages of the journey.
5. Is there a group facilitator or moderator? Some groups use moderators to coordinate submission schedules and resolve member issues. If not, find out how the group handles situations such as hostile or negative members, scheduling issues, or members that consistently miss deadlines or skip critiques. This is your manuscript we’re talking about—probably your dreams and quite possibly your career as well. The last thing you need is to be stuck with a group that allows toxic or dead-weight members to linger, dragging the rest of the group down with them.
6. Can we do a trial period before committing to a long-term relationship? By participating in a round or two of feedback on a trial basis (ideally where you have an opportunity to both submit a piece for critique and to evaluate other members’ writing) you can get a feel for the group dynamic and critiquing skill level before fully diving in.

It’s Not You, It’s Me. And You. Okay, Mostly It’s You.

You might find an ideal critique partner or group that exceeds your every hope and expectation. Congratulations! That’s a great feeling, and you should certainly appreciate it and work hard to keep it that way. But also know that situations can easily change, and the perfect group today can turn sour tomorrow. Group members drop out and new ones join, people’s lives and writing goals change, people get published and move on, people don’t get published and quit writing. Things happen, and maybe the group no longer meets your needs (or you don’t meet their needs).

Don’t panic.

Whatever the reason, if at any time in the relationship you feel that it’s not a good fit, be honest and end it. Don’t stay in a bad situation out of obligation or inertia, and don’t drag others down if you’re the one who can no longer commit. Part ways quickly and professionally. Some people may feel badly about your departure—they may take things personally, talk behind your back, or act spitefully toward you—but you can’t control that. Again, this is your writing, your dream, possibly the way you make your living. If it’s no longer working for you, move on. Take some time to regroup, reassess, and write. And when you’re ready to jump back in again, look for a new match. There are plenty of writers and groups out there seeking partnerships, and chances are you’ll find a great fit, one in which you can build a mutually beneficial relationship for the length of your project, your journey to publication, or your entire writing life.

Added bonus? Making a new writing buddy may even give you that much-needed reason to change out of your PJs and venture out into the world! Preferably showered! (*Ahem* not to name names…)

I hope you’ll also check out part two in the critique group series: Are You An Ideal Critique Partner? next. In the mean time, if you have any advice or experience on seeking or participating in critique groups, or questions about anything in the article, please share your thoughts in the comments below.

ETA: Also check out Kristen Lamb’s Can Critique Groups Do More Harm Than Good?

Where were we? Oh yes. Hair twins. And the rest is history.

Now, with the launch of BITTERSWEET (out January 3 — just 37 days away!) and the paperback of FIXING DELILAH (out December 5 — just 7 days away!) fast approaching, the vibe is pretty insane around here. That’s a good thing in this business, but it’s also a crazy-making thing (yes, “Vibes of Insanity” is a proven medical condition afflicting all writers). Zoe, brave soul that she is, has taken on the monumental task of helping me be slightly less crazy. And yes, as my new author intern, that’s her official job description. A big job, to be sure, but I have total faith in her!

In addition to cooling out the crazy, Zoe’s helping to get the word out about both books, so you might see her popping up on Facebook and Twitter and other places around the interwebs to host contests and chat about the books and generally be her cute awesome naturally red-headed self. So if you do see her, please give her a warm welcome and a virtual hug, and maybe a cupcake and a puppy, because she totally deserves them!

To make sure everyone is properly introduced, Zoe stopped by today to answer a few bookish questions. When you get to the end of her interview, if you’re not totally distracted by the cupcake question (yeah, are you sensing a theme here?), be sure to follow the links to her blog and other online hangouts.

Now, introducing… Zoe Alea!

Zoe, How did you become interested in YA lit? Were you always a bookworm, or did you come across a specific book that had an impact on you?

I stumbled on YA lit when I was looking for books I thought I would like reading. I was never a bookworm until recently. The summer in between 5th and 6th grade I read Harry Potter, and after that I was completely hooked on literature. Harry Potter was a life changing book for me. I can honestly say that if I hadn’t read it, I wouldn’t be answering these questions right now.

Which character in YA fiction do you most relate to? Why?

I don’t know! This is such a hard question. I think I relate to a mash-up of different characters. I know that when it comes to TV characters, I relate to Rory Gilmore from seasons 1-4 of Gilmore Girls, I think I relate to her the most because we’re both really academically driven and we both love books. I think she’s the one fictional character that I’ve really related to.

What’s your favorite book ever?

Again, with the hard questions. Definitely Harry Potter, for sentimental reasons. And your books of course. I’m also a really big fan of David Levithan’s books.

If you could spend the day with three characters from the world of young adult literature, which three would you pick, and why? What would you do with them on your fun day out?

You honestly don’t know how bad I want to list only amazing literary boys. It’s also really hard to not make all these characters people from books by Stephanie Perkins. The first one would be Anna from Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins. Anna is amazing and she loves old movies (just like me!). I think that we would get along really well. The second character is Etienne St. Clair from Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins. My reasoning for him is really simple. He’s of french descent, has a British accent, and was born in San Francisco. He’s also short and has clunky books, amazing hair, and loves history. So basically he is the most amazing literary guy in the world. And that brings me to my next person, which is actually two people (both boys). I know I didn’t want this list to be dominated by boys, but literary boys are amazing. So Wes from The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen and Cricket from Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins. Wes is adorable and an artist. Cricket is adorable and an inventor. Really, how can I not want to meet these boys? I would totally like to pick their brains, you know? I would love to find out more about them than just what’s in the book. We would probably meet of tea/coffee and cupcakes, preferably somewhere in Europe.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

When I was little, I wanted to be a fashion designer SO BAD. It consumed my life. I would sit around drawing sketches of clothes I wanted to make. Then I realized that I had no idea how to make clothing. Ironically, it was around the time I started discovering literature. Now I would like to work in publishing when I grow up! I would love to either be an author or someone who works in marketing.

Finally, in honor of BITTERSWEET (which features a lot of zany cupcakes, among other things), invent a cupcake that best represents you.

Hmmm. I think I would like to try a checkerboard cupcake. I don’t know if they actually make those, but they have cakes that are checkerboard and those are pretty awesome. So it would be both chocolate and vanilla. For frosting maybe vanilla with chocolate sprinkles. Also, a cherry on top. Cherries are amazing (and I have red-hair, so it works).

I just looked up checkerboard cupcakes, and they don’t exist. In this case, I would like my cupcake to be vanilla with chocolate chips inside!

Okay, so I’m off to find a way to make Zoe’s Zany Checkerboards! In the mean time, you can check out her book reviews at Zoe’s Book Reviews, on Twitter @zoealea, and on Facebook! Friend and follow and all that good stuff, and watch out for more from Zoe soon!

So just what kind of message do we want to send students in the Republic school district, Mr. Minor? This kind? School Reportedly Made Girl Write Apology To Her Alleged Attacker? This kind? Lawsuit filed against Republic School District over rape claim?

Seriously! WTF?!?!?

Actual conversation of great import between me and my husband (a.k.a. Pet Monster) today:

• Me: I’m doing research for my new book.
• Pet Monster: Cool.
• Me: Yeah. So… um… if you happen to notice me looking at any strange websites, or you accidentally find a folder on my computer with a few and/or a lot of pictures of smoldering, shirtless boys, it’s totally for… you know.
• Pet Monster: *raises eyebrow* Totally for…?
• Me: *makes air quotes* Research purposes.
• Pet Monster: *blinks*
• Me: It’s just that I’m trying to figure out what my new boys look like. There are at least two of them in this book — maybe more — and I totally need visual aids. Like, a lot of them.
• Pet Monster: *blinks*
• Me: *crosses arms* It’s not that easy, you know, looking up pictures of shirtless hotties. Every time I search for “cute teen boys,” I end up on some Justin Bieber fansite. And possibly an FBI watchlist.
• Pet Monster: So, what are we doing for dinner?

Yeah. I don’t know why he keeps me around, either. But there you have it, friends. A day in the life of a professional writer. And by “professional,” I clearly mean “unprofessional.”

How exactly do writers become things?

I blame capitalism.

(Ha! I always wanted to say that.)

Before publication, writing is deeply personal; it’s art, soul, dreams, creation, sweat, blood, and fairy dust. After publication, writing is deeply personal; it’s art, soul, and all that other stuff… but it’s also a commodity. A thing that can be branded, packaged, categorized, shelved, and stickered with a price based on fancy economic principals. A thing that can be copied and distributed via virtually limitless media and channels. A thing that can be loved, hated, analyzed, dissected, favorited, cheered, booed, challenged, spat upon, lovingly dog-eared, passed reverently among friends, used as kitty litter liner, awarded, or altogether forgotten—and done so exponentially, thanks to the internet.

Our tendency under this model is to arbitrarily define “success” in sales numbers, awards, and dollars, and then to measure against this limited definition with the only scraps of information we have: advance amounts, delayed sales numbers, marketing campaign details, print runs, lists, stars, buzz, and all the other stuff that can be counted, taken out of context, and overanalyzed until it sucks the write right out of us.

It’s quite crazy-making, because from a practical perspective, authors who make their living writing books need to sell books, and to sell books in our capitalist society, we kind of have to accept this thing-ness stuff. It’s part of the deal, just as it is in any for-profit business endeavor.

The important thing to remember, though, is that we’re not the things—our books are. So if you’re feeling a bit thingy these days, read on!

How to Not Be a Thing: 10 Anti-Insanity Tips for Writers

1. Turn off Google alerts. Google alerts is like being in high school, and every single time someone utters your name, the principal comes over the loudspeaker. Bzzzz! Sarah Ockler, Jeff Johnson doesn’t know you’re alive, so stop practicing your signature with his last name. Bzzzz! Sarah Ockler, your brother found your diary. Why do you write about Jeff Johnson so much? See announcement number one. Bzzzz! Sarah Ockler, you have a huge butt, and also, there’s toilet paper stuck to your shoe. Bzzzz! Sarah Ockler, um, your hair looks nice today. But bzzzz! Not nice enough for Jeff to notice. Yeah, Google Alerts is like that, personalized insults delivered right to your inbox. Trust me—nothing said about you online is worth risking your emotional sanity, because if there’s something being said about you that you really need to know, such as… you’ve been nominated for a National Book Award! or Johnny Depp loves your book so much he wants to pay you a personal visit to get a signed copy! …someone will contact you directly.
2. Stop comparing. Unless you’re self-published, it’s unlikely that you’ll have accurate, up-to-date sales data at any given point. And what’s a good number, anyway? 1,000 or 10,000 or 100,000 copies sold might be phenomenal for one book, abysmal for another. This author got on a 10-city tour, that one got a dedicated Web site, this one got an ad in the NYT, that one is visiting every school in the country, this one got a 6-figure advance, that one got less… well? Every book is different and requires different marketing. You don’t always know what’s going on behind the scenes at your publisher, but even that doesn’t matter. Maybe you got the platinum edition marketing campaign or maybe you got utterly forgotten, but comparing anything to other authors doesn’t make the next book happen. I’ll tell you what it does make happen: crazy! Now stop looking at so-and-so’s Amazon rank and go work on your manuscript!
3. Think like a reader. If you walk into a book store with 3 friends and ask each to point out her favorite book, what are the chances you’ll pick the same book? Your best friend might’ve based her entire life’s dream on a book you thought was utter drivel. Your neighbor can’t stop ranting about a book that you love so much you’ve read it a dozen times. And your cousin Louise was all mehhhh about a book that’s just been turned into a blockbuster movie netting a gazillion dollars. So it makes sense that readers will have widely differing opinions on your work, too. This is a good thing. If we all liked the same stuff, how lame would this joint be? Sure, no one wants to be on the receiving end of a crappy review, but it’s all subjective. I don’t take sugar in my coffee, you hate coffee but love tea, someone else only drinks the chemically-laden General Foods International powdered stuff, which I personally think is nasty (even though I secretly used to love it), but you don’t see the General crying about it, right? I know, I’m a lot braver writing about this than I am in real life, but I’m working on thinking more like a reader when it comes to other readers evaluating my stuff. Better yet…
4. Don’t read reviews. I’m still not 100% off the review pipe, but I’m getting there. Reviewers do not take the place of a good critique group, and readers aren’t there to give us constructive editorial feedback. They’re there to be entertained, informed, inspired, and educated. All the reasons we read books ourselves. And if your book doesn’t do it for them, that’s okay. It really, truly is. The question is, do you really need to know about that? Unless it’s going to help you improve your next project without killing your spirit, skip it.
5. Don’t take it personally. Maybe you haven’t turned off Google Alerts, or you’re still analyzing every review, or someone actually emailed to let you know how much he hates you. I know it feels personal—it should feel personal, because it’s our art, right? But you have to know (and believe) that it’s not personal. That reader doesn’t like your book—he doesn’t even know you as a person. That reader may even say he doesn’t like you, but he means your book. It’s all part of that external perception thing—lots of times, readers don’t separate the book from the writer. Guess what? That’s sooo not your problem.
6. Don’t chase trends. For one thing, it’s totally impractical. From initial sale to shelves, the book publishing process can take several months to 2 or even 3 years. By the time “the next big thing” hits the shelves, the rest of the industry is on to the next next big thing, or maybe even the big thing after that. More importantly, if you’re writing something just because you think it’s going to be a hit, and you don’t really care about the story or the subject, welcome to flopsville. Teen readers have highly attuned B.S. detectors, and they’ll see right through it. Plus, you won’t be happy.
7. Write what you love. Notice I didn’t say the oft-spouted “write what you know.” You don’t have to know anything. You just have to care about it enough to find out, to imagine, to create.
8. Remember the joy of writing. What brought you to the page in the first place? Do you remember? If you’re losing it—if writing feels like a chore instead of a joy (even a hard-won joy), take a break. Recharge. Come back when you’re feeling more excited about it again. If you’re slogging through the work, readers will slog through the book, and that isn’t good for any of us.
9. Write. Period. Talking about writing, reading blogs about writing, thinking about writing, dreaming about writing… all of this may be important and intellectually stimulating, but it’s not actual writing. To be a person who writes, you have to be—wait for it—a person who writes.
10. Don’t give up. Keep writing. Write another story. Write the next story. Write the story that’s keeping you up at night. If you’re getting rejections or negative feedback, try again. Again and again and again. Writing is not easy. Publication of one book doesn’t guarantee future success of another. All you can do is keep writing. Don’t. Give. Up. Ever.

Say it with me now: I am not a thing. I am not a thing. I am not a thing.

For all my writing friends, wherever you are on the journey, here’s to a new year filled with joy, inspiration, and of course… writing! Lots and lots of writing. In fact… get back to work!

Knowing my melodramatic self, I was crying in the car, alternately downshifting and wiping my nose and cursing the absentee muse, wondering if I’d have to give back my advance once my publisher discovered I couldn’t actually write books. Maybe. But at some point, I stopped sniffling long enough to click on the radio, and a song I’d never heard before filled up the gray space of my car.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true
I was made for you

It gave me shivers. Her voice, her passion, the words, everything I could feel from her heart. It’s hard to explain, but when this woman sang, I believed her, that’s the best way to put it. And behind those words, I suddenly saw in my mind Claire Hannaford, Delilah’s mother, looking at her daughter, thinking about all of the difficulties of their relationship, all of the said and unsaid things, the history and secrets and mistakes, and how despite everything, there was still so much love. I thought about Delilah’s Aunt Rachel and her Aunt Stephanie that died young. I thought of Delilah’s grandmother, Elizabeth, who left her legacy unresolved when she died after an eight-year estrangement. And I knew it then — no matter how things turned out, the Hannaford women of Red Falls Vermont were made for each other, just like the song said. They would always be connected, blood and history, secrets and promises, good and bad. It sounds crazy, but for me, that one song brought the Hannafords to life in a way that no amount of plotting, brainstorming, character interviews, and crying (and drinking, if we’re being honest) could.

The song? “The Story,” by Brandi Carlile.

Last week, we had the privilege of seeing Brandi Carlile live in Denver. She performed with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra, which made her songs even more powerful and dramatic. I loved the arrangements and loved seeing her live — I totally got choked up when she walked on stage, and though I’m a car-crier, I don’t usually cry over singers¹. But I’d just received my finished copies of Fixing Delilah, and now I was sitting just a few dozen feet from the woman whose music helped bring the characters to life and became like the theme song of the book. It just felt right to see Brandi here in Denver. It was like things in the universe colliding and coming together, like they always seem to do (Aunt Rachel would definitely agree, with or without her Tarot cards).

I refrained from public fangirling² at the concert, but I would really love to send Brandi a signed copy of the book she inspired. Is that nuts? Maybe. I sent an email to her PR people hoping to track down a fan mail address, but they probably think (*cough* know) I’m a stalker. I guess the only chance I have of delivering Brandi her signed copy is if singers are as neurotic and insecure as authors (*fingers crossed*), because a little self-Googling on Brandi’s part might lead her right… here! OMG! Brandi, is it really you? Can I send you my book? Please? I… I think I love you. But not in a creepy way. In that totally non-creepy way that strangers fall in love with singers all the time. Anyway, if you’re reading this, you rock. Maybe we could hang out some time? You can sing to me, and I’ll read to you? See? I’m not just in this for the fame and glory. This is totally mutually beneficial. Think about it and get back to me. Love, your stalker. I mean, me. Right. Anyway.

On a serious note (pun intended), if you’ve never listened to Brandi before, go YouTube and Pandora and iTunes her and get to listening.

Aaaand if you like “The Story” and want to see how it inspired the book… Fixing Delilah is already shipping from online retailers right NOW and is starting to make appearances in stores this week. Yes! Now is zee time on Sprockets ven vee³… freak out! Brandi, take me away!

What a week. What an incredible, enlightening, exhausting, crazy, emotional, tough, amazing week — a week for which I’m more grateful than any words in the English dictionary can convey. Still, I’m a writer — I have to at least try to find the right ones, no? Here goes.

I don’t know what will happen in Republic — whether the books in question will remain on the shelves of the school library, in the curriculum, or on the recommended reading lists, or whether they’ll be yanked. But thanks to you, I do know that regardless of the outcome of this particular challenge, people came together, and wonderful things happened. News of the Republic challenge reached outlets all over the world, including news and print media across Missouri, the Guardian UK, the New York Times book blog, Huffington Post, Slate, Jezebel, and tons of other places online and in print. Hundreds of bloggers helped spread the word about banned books, participating in and hosting giveaways of Speak, Slaughterhouse Five, Twenty Boy Summer, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, and other recently challenged books. People wrote editorials and emails and letters to the school board. College students staged protests and public readings. And the most heartbreakingly wonderful thing of all — people shared their personal stories about how Speak and books like it touched their lives, even decades after their own horrifying experiences with rape and abuse left them silenced.

The universe works in mysterious ways. By trying to hide our books, Wesley Scroggins pushed them right out into the light and brought authors, bloggers, librarians, teachers, readers, parents, publishers, and everyone who loves literature together in support of free choice. (And check this out… just a few nights after the news broke and the SpeakLoudly campaign took off, I was waiting to board a red eye from Denver. Just as we approached the gate, the door next to us opened to deplane an arriving flight. I watched the passengers march by as I told my husband about Speak, and the universe suddenly smiled down on us… Laurie Halse Anderson passed by me in the crowd. I couldn’t be certain it was her, because come ON! So I boarded my flight without saying hello. The next morning, however, I confirmed with Laurie via Twitter that it was in fact her — she’d been en route to Denver for a conference, and her plane was three hours delayed, causing us for a brief moment to be in the same place at the same time.

Laurie and I live like 2000 miles apart. What are the chances, right?!

Then again, what are the chances that because someone despised my work, I made tons of new Twitter and blogger friends, all of us standing up to support challenged books and continuing to bond over favorite reads and other literary hot topics? Yes — hate, hypocrisy, and censorship can be extremely divisive, but they can also be great unifiers, bringing people together who may not have otherwise met. Good chances or not, that’s exactly what happened last week.

You were all a part of it, and now I’m sending a special shout-out to you and everyone who made such an incredible difference in my life this week.

To my friends and fellow authors of the 2009 Debutantes who took a unified stand against censorship mere moments after the Twenty Boy Summer challenge news broke with the Debs Speak Loudly contest, thanks for having my back. If we lived in the wild West, you’d totally be my posse. Only instead of gunfights, we’d organize literary slams and reading duels. And rather than those uncomfortable old corsets and chaps, we’d rock our work PJs and yoga pants (I’m sorry I just outed everyone, but that’s the truth of the life as a glamorous author)! By the way, the winners of Debs Speak Loudly have been announced, so if you entered the contest, be sure to check your email or LJ messages to see if you’ve won!

To my friends at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers who jumped in to support Debs Speak Loudly by donating even more copies of Twenty Boy Summer, thank you for your ongoing support, encouragement, and virtual hugs. Jen and Victoria, Anna and Frankie would definitely call you the cool Moms.

To Paul Hankins, who supported Twenty Boy Summer from the first whispers of a challenge and started the #SpeakLoudly campaign that quickly became an international movement, you are a rock star of a teacher. Together with David Macinnis Gill, Paul ensures that the hard work of supporting intellectual freedom and the right to speak loudly will continue long after the Republic challenge is resolved via SpeakLoudly.org. Go check it out!

To the teachers of Republic and other school districts who tirelessly work for intellectual freedom in and out of the classroom, you’re an inspiration to students and readers everywhere, and I thank you for your passion and dedication. You may not be able to speak loudly about what’s going on behind closed doors, but we know you’re fighting for us, and we are grateful.

To the parents and readers of Republic who emailed their support and formed banned book clubs and discussion groups, who are creating blogs and films and editorials about speaking loudly, who encourage reading and free choice in their homes, thank you for showing us that Wesley Scroggins doesn’t speak for you.

To the bloggers, readers, booksellers, librarians, publishers, authors, friends, and book lovers everywhere who support authors and books through your blogs, your jobs, your hobbies, your recommendations, your words, thank you. As long as you’re here taking a stand, reading books, sharing them with the world, censorship will never get a firm hold in our communities.

To Ellen Hopkins, Sherman Alexie, Lauren Myracle, Chris Crutcher, and contemporary young adult authors everywhere who continue to write the important, hard stories even in the face of bigotry, hypocrisy, name-calling, and censorship, thank you for refusing to be silenced.

To Wesley Scroggins, who brought us all together despite his best efforts to divide. Thanks for reminding us how important it is to take a stand for intellectual freedom.

And finally, a special message for Laurie Halse Anderson: Speak is and will always be an inspiration, a voice, a truth, a lifesaver. Thank you for Melinda’s story. Thank you for speaking loudly.

Group hug, everyone. Group hug.

*awwwww*

Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.

Now, how about those Wesley Scroggins Filthy Books Prize Packs? Stay tuned for my next post to see who won!