a whole bunch of cool stuff

Ugh, I’m STILL not done with my outline, which is rather annoying, but I got a really, REALLY cool idea for the end when I was lying in bed last night. It’s one of those things where you lie there going, “Do NOT forget this. Remember it. Remember, remember remember…” and then of course, when you wake up, you’re like, um, it had something to do with George, I think…

Anyway, wish me luck remembering.

So, I don’t know if you all know this, but I am probably the least visual-artistically gifted person you will EVER meet. Seriously, I have a problem with drawing smiley faces. It’s pathetic. So, naturally, I’m in awe of people who can draw ANYTHING. As if I needed another reason to be envious of Meg Cabot, it turns out that’s she’s one hell of an illustrator, and she’s currently doing art shows on her blog.

And, elsewhere on the blogosphere, Scott Westerfeld has unearthed some fan art for his Midnighter’s series. It’s AWESOME. (and in two parts) Man, I would love some of that for my book. How cool is that, that someone loves the book enough to do soemthing totally new and different with it… that if the author were me, she’d NEVER be able to do?

Seriously, I get all these great images in my head, but I’m unable to translate them to the page in a visual manner. That’s why I got my cousin Beth to draw the Rose & Grave symbol, and my photog friend Tara to make the “secret society girl” icon that’s on my business cards. Because I can’t do it. Seriously, I can’t draw a frickin’ rose, that’s how bad it is.

Ah, well, at least I can write.

This is the point on the blog where I’m really REALLY tempted to excoriate another writer who is writing for my parent company and is talking serious smack about chick lit, even though she’s WRITING IT. It’s kind of random (no pun intended!) that she insists that she doesn’t write chick lit and her editor says it is and my editor is saying mine isn’t chick lit and I’m saying it is. Ah, grass is always greener. And of course I think this all goes back to the argument I’ve been making for a few months that the industry scions have been diminishing the definition of chick lit by saying that only the fluff is chick lit and if you write anything more than that then it “isn’t really chick lit” rather than recognizing that chick lit “isn’t all fluff.” And I think she is contributing to that little ongoing problem, and if I was the kind of person who started blog wars, I’d say so. But I won’t. Because I’m actually really nice. But, self hatred? So not cool.

Finally, I just finished the first book in the His Dark Materials trilogy, which was very strongly recommended to me by a friend, and, let me just say, not strongly enough. Whata grogeous, frightening, fascinating, fantastic little book (fantastic in the fantasy sense). Seriously, go read. They’re making a movie out of it, too. It’s called The Golden Compass in America and The Northern Lights in Great Britain and probably down under. But it’s His Dark Materials, Book 1, by Phillip Pullman. I’m very excited to read books 2 and 3 now.

Speaking of book 2, I’d better get back to that outline.