I am 32 this year. I don’t feel 32– I feel like I maybe just turned 19. Maybe 22, if I’m being mature. But nonetheless, I am 32, which means loads of people around me are having or have had babies. I have close friends on their second, third, even fourth babies. Students I taught when they were freshmen in high school have toddlers. One of my high school friends has a daughter in middle school.

All this– and probably plenty of other things– have made me question my own childlessness. I wrestle with it on a daily basis, if we’re being totally honest: I like my life as is. But I also think I’d be a pretty cool parent, as would Male Counterpart. I think our kids would be awesome. It seems like something I’d like to do. But every time I think YES, this should happen, I read something online that a parent-friend has posted or RTed or linked. Memes of trashed houses or dirty showers or unwashed clothes that say something in all caps about how this is just LIFE if you are a parent. Complaints about never going to the bathroom alone, or about not having a full night’s sleep in years. Comics poking fun at Mom’s skill vs. Dad’s well-meaning ineptitude.

Seriously, this stuff is everywhere. It’s overwhelming. It is the reason why I doubt my ability to simultaneously be a mother and be my own person. It has made me wonder why anyone would have children, since they obviously are nothing but misery factories.

Of course, when I ask these friends why the hell they did this to themselves, they tell me that parenting is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, even when it’s hard. They tell me how much they love their children, how overwhelming and special it is. Some tell me not to worry– that plenty of parents DO in fact get to go to the bathroom alone, and plenty of fathers are totally capable of diapering.

But those aren’t the stories that get told the loudest on the internet, of course. And hey, I get it– a tweet about how much you adore your kid isn’t going to get many views or RTs or laughs. It doesn’t make for as entertaining a narrative, not by a long shot. But those tweets/comics/stories DO have power, major power, not just on you, but on your readers/listeners/friends/followers.

Which brings me to the writing part of this blog post:

This year, I’m making a very conscious effort to not complain about writing. This is partially because of logic I first read about in BIG MAGIC (which you should read right now)– constantly complaining about the work that comes with creativity scares off creativity. It’s also partially because I realized what a hypocrite I was being– frustrated by the PARENTING IS AWFUL posts, yet simultaneously tweeting something that implied WRITING IS AWFUL on the regular.

Now, let me say this: I have zero judgment for people who complain about writing online. This is my own thing, and I’m sharing because I think it might help others. But we’re all different, and we all approach writing and creativity and life differently. I do not think people who find it helpful to complain online are lesser or greater writers than I am; I just think that complaining online made me a lesser writer.

Let me explain:

I get that it’s fun to talk about the misery of revisions or OMG DRAFTING or the crushing self-doubt that comes with writing. Those make shareable tweets and are easy to find funny gifs for. It’s fun to commiserate and helps us all feel a little less alone. But I do worry that sometimes, amid all that funny complaining, if we don’t start to believe our own rant a little bit? I mean, why WOULDN’T I start to believe that revisions were an impossible feat, if I were telling myself that every day by way of twitter? Why wouldn’t I start to feel overwhelmed if I constantly Facebook-wept about my deadlines or editorial letter? There’s something to be said for the value of daily affirmations, which means there’s something to be said for daily negations.

And with that said– I’ve tried to keep in mind that my complaints can and likely do have an effect on others. Why would a novice writer think he could pull through revisions if a published author is constantly telling him that they’re miserable? Why would a teen at a keyboard think she could write a novel if I tweeted again and again about the horror of getting a long edit letter? Even authors with similar career trajectories to my own– why would they believe they could push through if all around them, their friends and peers and contemporaries are shouting “WE CAN’T DO THIS”? I want to be the person helping paddle the rowboat, not the one who barfs over the side of the boat and makes everyone else barf as well.

(Barf is just a ridiculous word, isn’t it?)

At its core, writing is awesome, and exciting, and fun– and if that weren’t the case for me, then I wouldn’t be writing. So, this is why I’ve been tweeting “I’m excited to write today” almost daily for the last few months. Even when I’m frustrated or feeling down about the process– which still happens, because of course it does– I remind myself that I’m excited and lucky and happy to be creating– and squash the temptation to put anything into the universe that would suggest otherwise.

The result? I am a happier writer. I am a more productive writer. I am a better writer. But above all, I am a more joyful person– because I’ve refused to let the thing that I love become the source of my loudest complaints.

Elsewhere:
My Top Memoirs of 2015
My Top Adult SciFi/Fantasy of 2015
My Top Nonfiction of 2015

I’ll Give You The Sun – Jandy Nelson

I loved her first book so so so hard, so I figured I’d like this one. But damn, I didn’t just like it. I loved it in that way where you want to curl up with it and never put it down. I left it on my desk for weeks because I didn’t want to put it back on the shelf. I love this book. I love every word in it. I felt glowy and happy and excited and there is quite sincerely not a single chapter or word I disliked. I love that it’s romantic and beautiful without feeling sappy or overdone; the romance is integral, but not the focus of the plot.

These Broken Stars/This Shattered World/Their Fractured Light – Aimee Kaufman and Meagan Spooner

I got These Broken Stars on audiobook, on a whim. The cover was pretty, and it had good ratings, so why the hell not? And then I walked for SEVEN HOURS one day because I’d made a rule that I could only listen to audiobooks while walking/getting FitBit steps, all because I didn’t want to stop listening. The first book is about the daughter of a insanely rich man and a decorated solider becoming stranded on a deserted planet and, while there, uncovering some dark secrets about that insanely rich man’s company/ethics/past/drama. This series is beautiful and thoughtful and wonderfully written; I love the characters and their spot-on development, I love how they stories are all connected, and I love the romantic elements. I’m not typically a big sci-fi reader, so this series took me by total surprise.

Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda – Becky Albertalli

I listened to this audiobook while on tour for the Pip Bartlett series and couldn’t believe how much I loved it. In part, it’s admittedly because the setting– an Atlanta suburb– is so familiar to me. But I also felt so connected to Simon. I loved the fact that even though I’m a straight woman, I didn’t just sympathize with the struggles the gay male character– I empathized with them in a very deep, personal way. I think that when people discuss the need for more diverse books, this is the sort they mean– books that aren’t diverse for the sake of being diverse or meeting some sort of quota, but diverse for the sake of showing just how universal diversity can be.

Wolf by Wolf – Ryan Graudin

A world where the Nazis won, Hitler holds an annual motorcycle race from Germany to Japan, and a girl experimented on in a concentration camp uses a rare power to enter that race. This book is phenomenal– the history is so well researched, the imagined world of Nazi rule so well extrapolated and defined, and the characters so complex and interesting and WOW. You need to read this yesterday.

The Wolf Wilder – Katherine Rundell

A friend of mine gave me not only this book, but the next one on my list as well, so obviously she is to be trusted with money and my living will and my first born. This book is so damn gorgeous and clever. It’s set in Imperial Russia, and it’s about a girl whose job it is to re-wild wolves who were previously the showy pets of the nobility. She’s smart and dangerous and a little bit more animal than child, at kind, or in the very least is the line between the two. I felt like all my lines had been colored in with dark pretty Russia colors when I read this.

The Nest – Kenneth Oppel

First off– this book has a gorgeous, see-thru sort of cover that you want to touch. So. There’s that.
Now for the inside parts. This book is, frankly, messed up. But really– it’s about a boy whose baby brother is sick, and the creepy angels?wasps?demons? outside his window who begin building A NEW BABY in a GIANT WASP NEST and are going to TAKE HIS BROTHER and TRADE HIM FOR THE NEW BABY. It makes me wonder if Ken was hugged enough as a child, and then makes me want a hug, and also makes me feel creepy and delicious and weird. I loved this book, and literally sat in the parking lot at the bagel shop because I didn’t want to stop reading, turn the car on, and drive the eight minutes home to read there.

Wild – Cheryl Strayed

Technically, this should probably have gone in the non-fiction category, I think? This is a book I never would have picked up on my own– but it was the choice for a book club I’m a part of, so I somewhat reluctantly started reading. It’s a story about a girl who, after the death of her mother and some risky self-destructive behavior, decides to hike the Pacific Crest Trail with little to no hiking experience. So, basically: It’s about a person I’ve never met, whose life I have little in common with, doing something I would never in a million years want to do (I don’t even CAMP, people). But I absolutely adored this book. I found it mesmerizing and beautiful and haunting, and it’s one of the few books I’ve openly cried at. The movie is pretty awful (bless you though, Reese Witherspoon), so don’t bother– but guys, give this book a shot. It’s got so much heart that almost a full year after I picked it up, I can still remember quote (and get shivers from) many of the lines.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? – Mindy Kaling

This is sort of a weird book for me to be into, because I know nothing about Mindy Kaling. I don’t watch The Mindy Show, I don’t…actually, I have no idea what she’s even done other than the Mindy show. But I listened to this audio book because I needed something short and sweet for a car ride, and this book did the trick. It’s fun, it’s funny, it’s cute, and it’s a nice break if you’re looking for something of a light-hearted palette cleanse.

Sounds Like Me – Sara Bareilles

I listened to this book (and you MUST listen to it, because she sings at the beginning of every chapter and it’s lovely) mostly as research on a WIP I’ve got going right now. I like Sara Bareilles as much as the next person, but I’m not a megafan who would normally buy this. I’m so glad I did! She discusses songwriting, self-image, her own life, her creative life…it is really lovely and well-done and makes me want to buy all her albums and braid her hair. She has some really poignant stuff to say about creating and being a creator in industries that judge the artist as much as the art, and some funny, delightful family stories to tie it all together.


(Books below are copied over from my Top Non-Fic post because apparently I barely know the difference between non-fic and memoir?)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes – Caitlin Doughty

I truly cannot express how much I loved this book. The author does a really amazing web series called Ask A Mortician; she has a wonderful voice (as you’ll see if you follow that link) and does a phenomenal job with her audio book. I have always been interested in death in way that often feels very different than my peers; I’m not into coffin couches or skull ornaments or making a laugh out of it (which is totally fine, for what it’s worth)– death is something that intrigues me in a very serious and somber way, specifically how personally we all handle the idea of it as well as how we approach the very personal act of mourning. Doughty does a truly wonderful job of telling funny, weird stories about life as a crematory operator– but she’s always respectful. She seems to take a great deal of pride in her job, and recognizes the importance of her role despite how many bodies and families and deaths and funerals she’s seen over the years.
Additionally, she sheds light on some fascinating funeral traditions, and has some eye-opening thoughts on America’s death practices, specifically embalming. I really enjoyed hearing her discuss the cultural, personal, and communal value of certain death traditions, even those that may seem a little bizarre to our ears (one specific story about cannibalism was really interesting). This is one of those books that I am going to be recommending for years and years– it has real staying power.

Troublemaker – Leah Remini

So, my very awesome friend/author/derby girl Lauren Morrill told me I needed to listen to this book. And I was sort of like…meh? I mean, I never watched King of Queens? I only know Leah Remini as Stacey Carosi from those weird beach episodes of Saved By The Bell? And then Lauren said “It’s ALL ABOUT Scientology” and I was like “SIGN ME UP.” This book is total candy, but in the best, most delightful way. Do the audiobook if you can– Leah reads it and it’s like she’s in your car with you, explaining how messed up Scientology is and rolling her eyes and yelling curse words at anyone who dares cut you off in traffic. It is a fun read/listen about a crazypants religion, and I loved it and you should listen to it and then we can talk about all the Tom Cruise Wedding stuff because O.o.

A Darker Shade of Magic – V.E. Schwab

Look, I know Victoria. And I like Victoria. And I am still on my way to becoming her ultimate fan girl. I am going to start asking her to sign my arm or something whenever we run into each other. Or maybe my face. Last year, I read VICIOUS and *loved* it so hard. It’s becoming one of my top recommendations. For some reason, I didn’t read DSoM right away (even though OBVIOUSLY, I had it preordered). Why, past Jackson? Why did you not leap into this book immediately? Because this book is so damn glorious I can’t handle it. She handles an ensemble cast (and quick POV-jumping) better than any author I know, and builds a world so well that it seems nearly impossible that it’s entirely fictional. I listed this book first because if you only read one thing I recommend, make it this one.

Landline – Rainbow Rowell

I love Rainbow Rowell’s writing. How could I not? She manages to write fantasy and magical realism and wizard books and contemporary and yet they all have the same feel, the same energy and love and spirit. Landline is the first of her adult books that I read, and I loved it because it is such a strange, weird, delightful story. I was working on something– I think THE INSIDE JOB– when I was finishing it up, and remember having to bargain with myself– write a chapter, get to read a chapter. But then I cheated and just read all the chapters.

Garden Spells/The Peach Keeper/The Girl Who Hung The Moon – Sarah Addison Allen

Stephanie Perkins recommended Sarah Addison Allen to me ages ago. I started with the Sugar Queen, which I loved so much that when I finished I ordered everything the author had ever written. Sarah Addison Allen’s books are magical and sweet and charming and set in a Southern towns very much like the ones I grew up in. They are a warm hug romantic fantasy delight, and you should read them to feel fuzzy inside. Garden Spells is arguably her most famous, but I haven’t read a single one I disliked.

Lexicon – Max Barry

I’m not even sure where or how I came across this book– I think an Audible sale? It’s about a world where words have power– literal power. It’s powerful and twisty and the characters– a clever streetwise girl and a boy who doesn’t understand why he’s been kidnapped– are unexpected and interesting. It’s a long and winding sort of tale, one where the setting changes just often enough to keep you on your toes (the streets! A school! AUSTRALIA! Whee!) and where the characters develop naturally, without the author having to step in and explain their choices to you. I didn’t see the ending coming– not even a little bit.

The Girl With All The Gifts – M.R. Carey

Earlier this year Django Wexler mentioned this book to me while we were sitting in a hotel lobby with a bunch of other authors after a festival event. I asked him if it was super dark, and said super dark wasn’t really my thing. He hesitated, and said he wasn’t really sure. Months and months and months later, this book popped up on an Audible sale, and I figured I’d give it a shot. Now I fully understand the reason for Django’s hesitation– because this book is so very dark in some parts, but so beautiful and hopeful and elegant in others. I won’t lie– I didn’t love the ending– and yet I still adored the book. Usually, an ending I don’t fall for 100% ruins a book for me, but the rest of this book was so strong that I still consider it one of my top reads of the year.

Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore – Robin Sloan

This book is weird and delightful, the perfect intersection of magic and computing and mystery. I see a lot of reviews that complain about it being a love letter to Google– and I have to admit, it sort of is. But that didn’t bother me, because the rest of this book is so fun and interesting and question-mark-making. It’s essentially about a guy who takes a job at a 24-hour bookstore, only to discover that the bookstore is a check point for members trying to make it into a secret society. When the main character uses computing to achieve what’s supposed to take potential society members years to do by hand, the sanctity of the society and its purpose is thrown into question.

This might seem a little bizarre, since most people assume that since I write books I also read books constantly. And there was a time when I did— but when there were deadlines or meetings or book tours or dinners I found myself thinking of reading more and more as a “leisure” activity, akin to marathoning a show or going to a movie. Which, of course, it isn’t– reading is part of my job! And it’s something that undeniably makes me a better writer, happier person, and, if I say so myself, cooler human being.

And so I really settled in to reading in 2015. I didn’t have a specific number of books in mind, though I did decide to keep track of what I read (and I will say that keeping track of what I read was VERY satisfying because the number kept going up and thus I felt nerdily productive). Here are the stats:

In 2015, I read 73 books (and will perhaps make it to 74 before the year is truly up).
Of those, I listened to 47 as audiobooks.

Yep, 2015 was THE YEAR OF THE AUDIOBOOK. I’ve actually never been hugely into audiobooks before, but I decided that if I really wanted to up my reading, I would need to use them– I spend a lot of time in the car, or walking, or puttering around the house, or cooking– and that was time that could be used listening to books. Listening to audiobooks is definitely a very different experience than reading a hard copy book, but I’m telling you, it’s every bit as rewarding. In some ways, I think I retain more from audiobooks because I can’t skim ahead, no matter how badly I want to know what happens on the next page.

I thought I’d break down my 2015 in several posts rather than one giant long post. Also, keep in mind that there are a handful of books I’m super excited about that came out late in 2015, and thus I just haven’t had a chance to read. So with that in mind…

My favorite non-fiction books of 2015:

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes – Caitlin Doughty

I truly cannot express how much I loved this book. The author does a really amazing web series called Ask A Mortician; she has a wonderful voice (as you’ll see if you follow that link) and does a phenomenal job with her audio book. I have always been interested in death in way that often feels very different than my peers; I’m not into coffin couches or skull ornaments or making a laugh out of it (which is totally fine, for what it’s worth)– death is something that intrigues me in a very serious and somber way, specifically how personally we all handle the idea of it as well as how we approach the very personal act of mourning. Doughty does a truly wonderful job of telling funny, weird stories about life as a crematory operator– but she’s always respectful. She seems to take a great deal of pride in her job, and recognizes the importance of her role despite how many bodies and families and deaths and funerals she’s seen over the years.
Additionally, she sheds light on some fascinating funeral traditions, and has some eye-opening thoughts on America’s death practices, specifically embalming. I really enjoyed hearing her discuss the cultural, personal, and communal value of certain death traditions, even those that may seem a little bizarre to our ears (one specific story about cannibalism was really interesting). This is one of those books that I am going to be recommending for years and years– it has real staying power.

Big Magic – Elizabeth Gilbert

I almost don’t even have anything more to say about this book, since I’ve been shouting about it on Twitter for weeks now. I chanted the title to all my writing friends. And non-writing friends. And pets. It is the warm hug of creativity that I didn’t know I needed. I finished it and got back to work on a book I love, but have been neglecting. I think it has changed my life. No, for real. I think it has. I had a rough summer creatively and personally, but reading this renewed my faith in myself as an author and person. Do I sound sappy? I sound a little sappy. But whatever, I don’t care. Read this book and feel magical.

Troublemaker – Leah Remini

So, my very awesome friend/author/derby girl Lauren Morrill told me I needed to listen to this book. And I was sort of like…meh? I mean, I never watched King of Queens? I only know Leah Remini as Stacey Carosi from those weird beach episodes of Saved By The Bell? And then Lauren said “It’s ALL ABOUT Scientology” and I was like “SIGN ME UP.” This book is total candy, but in the best, most delightful way. Do the audiobook if you can– Leah reads it and it’s like she’s in your car with you, explaining how messed up Scientology is and rolling her eyes and yelling curse words at anyone who dares cut you off in traffic. It is a fun read/listen about a crazypants religion, and I loved it and you should listen to it and then we can talk about all the Tom Cruise Wedding stuff because O.o.

Also:
My Top YA/MG of 2015
My Top Memoirs of 2015
My Top Adult SciFi/Fantasy of 2015

1) Stop buying crap products from the drugstore and go to the dermatologist. Look, I swear we’ll get to the Deep and Meaningful Wisdom in a moment, but for now, trust me: At the dermatologist, they can give you prescriptions for face washes that cost a fraction of what you’re paying for drugstore stuff and work 5000x as well. And creams and stuff. For real. I can’t believe I waited so long to go (and spent so much on fancy face products at Sephora).

2) As I keep saying on twitter, it actually IS a good idea to rise early rather than work all night. I know. I hate that cold truth too.

3) Audiobooks are an amazing magical way to read (?) lots of books, because you will eventually want to listen to them rather than watch TV, so ta-da, you’ve also saved on cable! I have listened to so many, and I know there’s no way I’d have found the time to read an equal number of books.

4) It is so, so, so easy to cocoon up in your house with Netflix and pajamas and say “it’s because I’m introverted” or “I’ve had a long week” or “I’m just really tired tonight”. Look, you might be introverted/overworked/tired. But if you constantly use all that as an excuse to be a lousy friend, partner, and relative, then the people who love and care about you are going to learn how to live their lives without you there. Say yes to things. Go places even when you’d rather nap. Make sure your friends/family members know that you appreciate being asked to things, and that you want to be a part of their lives– and not just when it’s convenient to you.

5) Willpower is a finite resource. If you do the Hardest Thing when you’re at the end of the day, your willpower will be all used up. Do the Hardest Thing– whether that’s working out, or writing, or reading Facebook because OMG IS IT HARD TO LOOK AT YOUR RACIST UNCLES POSTS– at the beginning of the day. This, by the way, goes hand in hand with that Waking Up Early thing.

6) Being passive aggressive online is so very unattractive and unpleasant and ugh just don’t. I see it constantly on Facebook. I see it via pointed unfollows or vague tweets on twitter. I see it from celebrities and students and writers and friends. I’m sure it can be justified– “It’s MY Social Media Platform” or “I just don’t even care!” or “Whatever, she doesn’t follow me anyway”– but still. It accomplishes nothing. Be bigger than that.

7) Don’t spend your time reading books that you’re not all that into. There are way too many amazing books to read.

8) I’m serious about that dermatologist thing.

/fin

Do you love it as much as I do? Because I adore it. Bloomsbury has done such a phenomenal job with the covers on this series. I can’t wait for July 2016!

So far, you can preorder HERE at Indiebound.org. I’ll post other buy links as they become available. And look for an ARC giveaway soon!

I’M GOING TO HAVE TRICK-OR-TREATERS!

But I am also really, really sad, because I absolutely love where I live now. Not my condo, exactly– it’s amazing, I won’t lie. Seriously. I’ve got giant built-in bookshelves a friend made for me, and a wooden swing hanging from the ceiling because this is what adulting is, and I have an amazing view and concrete floors. The building used to be the CDC way back in the 1950s, so we never ever lose power.

It’s a very cool space, and I’ll miss it, but to be honest, leaving my condo is only like, 30% of the reason I’m sad. The other 70% is that I’m sad to leave this part of Atlanta.

Now, let me be clear about something that might make this entire post seem a little ridiculous: I’m moving from Atlanta to…Atlanta. That’s right. I’m technically still within the city limits. I just will no longer be in the center of the city, like I have been for the last seven years. And that’s the part that’s getting to me.

Atlanta is the sort of place that you can move within the city and feel like you’re in a totally different state. There’s Buckhead, full of clubs and ladies who lunch and ritzy hotels. There’s Inman Park, all craftsman bungalows owned by wealthy hipsters. Bankhead, where you NEVER want to go, because it’s scary as hell. The West Side, which use to be scary as hell, but is soon going to be home to a giant park and already has all sorts of clever quaint restaurants. East Atlanta, land of bars with patios and tattoos. Old Fourth Ward, which is practically built from art installations and tacos. And then there’s Midtown, which is where I’ve lived.

Midtown is the gay district in Atlanta, though plenty of people have complained that it’s losing that distinction. Still, there are rainbow flags everywhere you look. The Pride parade marches right down my street– as does the St. Patrick’s Day parade and the Christmas parade. The Pride parade is the best one, of course, because it involves fabulous floats blasting Lady Gaga music and, one memorable year, a giant awesome foam machine on a float full of men wearing leather.

There are restaurants– mostly inexpensive, locally owned ones. Midtown has Piedmont Park, which is the city’s main park– the lake is actually stocked, so people fish in it. The park has art festivals, food festivals, and concerts; it’s where I saw Paul McCartney perform live, and if I open my windows, I can hear music if it’s a particularly loud show (looking at you, Lorde). There are hotels and dessert places and sidewalks everywhere.

And then there’s the stuff that a realtor might not know to tell you. There’s that weird hobo that dresses like a king– I’m not kidding– and walks around as if he isn’t wearing a crown and a cape. There are street musicians around here, usually a trumpet player, but occasionally a sax player and, recently, a Mongolian throat singer. There’s an art installation near my house that’s literally a rock that spins, and I think it’s just the greatest thing. There’s a guy who walks down the street every week or so, dressed in drag and twirling a baton. Recently they’ve put up all these gazebos made of yarn, and a hardware store opened up. There’s often stencil art on the sidewalks, and the Midtown Alliance just built a little racquetball court in an empty lot.

My neighborhood is full of people like me– adult former-quasi-hipster artsy types who drink bubble tea but still get home from the poetry slam at a reasonable hour. We’re arrogant and insufferable, and we don’t care because whatever, you can’t even drive very well here, much less live here, so HA. We know all the details about what buildings are going in where, and who the head chef at the new restaurant is, and what times the streets will be closed for that block party that’s taking over the city for the afternoon. When we go to a restaurant or gym or nail salon and they ask “Do you need your parking validated?” we snort and say “Uh, no, I walked over” because as if we would drive. We live right around the corner!

(Seriously, we’re the worst.)

What I’m getting at is: Midtown is weird. It is the weirdest, best place in Atlanta, which is also the weirdest, best place.

When I first realized it was time to move out of my condo, I kept saying “I want to move somewhere where I can walk to things.” I kept thinking that was what made my neighborhood so great– how I could basically fall out my door and eat dinner or get groceries or workout or order coffee. So, for about a month, Male Counterpart and I focused on places where I’d be able to walk to things. There were only a handful that both allowed me to walk to things, and didn’t leave him driving two hours to get to work in the morning.

I didn’t like them.

Even when they had everything we were looking for, including that oh-so-coveted-walkability, I didn’t like them. Because, I realized, I wasn’t actually looking for someplace where I could walk to the grocery store. I was looking for my neighborhood, somewhere else. I didn’t want a nearby Publix– I wanted the guy dressed as the hobo king and the popsicle cart and the stenciled koi on the sidewalk.

Some of you reading this may have never been in love with a place before. To be fair, there’s only one place I ever remembering loving the way I love Atlanta– when I was ten, we lived in Columbus, Georgia for a while. I was a baby redneck at the time, with a very pronounced Southern drawl, red mud stains on all my clothing, and a love for my weird little neighborhood of muscadine grapes and white-tailed deer.

But we moved, and because I was ten years old, I didn’t have much say in the matter. I think that made it easier.

Now, however, I’m an adult, which means I’m choosing to leave my magical land of crazy kings and spinning rocks. And even though I keep reminding myself that I’ll have a yard and wildlife and trick-or-treaters, I am still, at times, overwhelmed with how much I love this city, and how much I’ll miss this particular part of it.

I love Atlanta. I want to bite the buildings, to sink my hands in the asphalt like it’s dough or moving water.

And I am leaving it– sort of kind of a little. I’m leaving this part of Atlanta, the part that’s ever changing and has the racquetball court and the guy dressed as the king and Baton Bob. I’ll live so ridiculously close by, and I’ll come here often, but I know it won’t quite be the same.

It’s for the best– really. I am excited and happy and looking forward to it.

Did I mention trick-or-treaters?

But seriously, Atlanta. I just really love you.

1. Practice your speech. And do so standing up, wearing the shoes you’ll be wearing when you give it. This is particularly important if you’ll be wearing heels of any variety. When you’re nervous, you tend to be a bit more wobbly on your feet. Combine that with unpracticed heels and it can all get tricky.

2. Everyone is on your side. This is the most important point of this entire post. I have seen a lot of people speak to a large audience. A lot of those people have been very, very nervous about doing so. And I promise: I was always cheering for them. If they slipped up on a word, or lost their place, or dropped their papers, I was never snickering—I was always thinking “You’ve got this! Don’t worry about it!”. So was everyone else in the audience. No one watching you speak wants you to fail. Because seriously, if I wanted to see someone fail, I’d go to YouTube. It’s easier and you can replay it over and over.

3. Don’t worry if they laugh when you mess up. They’re not laughing at you. They’re laughing because it’s just funny when someone accidentally says “breast” instead of “best” (I’ve done it). Or when someone tries to combine the word “cities” and “towns” and winds up saying “titties” (Male Counterpart did that in front of his class). But they’re not laughing AT you. They’re laughing because it’s funny. You can laugh too.

4. Tell the audience what you need. Feel free to say “I totally lost my place” or “This is my cheat sheet.” I am super distractible, so whenever I’m giving a new presentation, I have my laptop or iPad nearby to refer to. I always tell the audience “I’m basically like your cat, and get distracted by shiny things, so I brought this to help me find my place again.” No one has ever been bothered or alarmed by that. Sometimes, I talk too fast and lose my breath. Sometimes, even with a familiar presentation, I lose my place because something throws me—people talking loudly, a bell ringing, or, in one memorable case, a man covered in mud running by in the background. If I don’t have a cheat sheet with me, I literally just ask the audience what I was talking about. They’re always happy to remind me because SEE POINT 2.

5. Focus on what you’re saying. There are all sorts of websites that tell you to keep your eyes up! Don’t sway! Look people in the eye! And that’s all well and good if you’re at the point where you’re comfortable with public speaking. But if you’re not, just keep your eyes on your paper (assuming you have one). Focus on the words, not the people in the room. One word at a time—slowly.

6. Take a breath. Especially if you’re about to fall apart. Take a breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, and let go. Use that breath as your “restart”. If you’re trying to give your speech and think about how badly you’re screwing up and wonder if people are laughing at you and dwell on if you’re speaking too fast, your brain is going to ignite. Take a breath, and SEE POINT 5.

7. Put your paper on something. This is a pretty basic trick, but makes a big difference. If your hands are shaking, it’ll be way less noticeable if you’ve got the paper on a podium or desk or something. If you won’t have a podium, use notecards rather than a piece of paper—they’ll wobble less and thus be less noticeable.

8. It wasn’t as bad as you thought. Ok, let’s say you’ve already given a speech and OH MY GOD IT WAS THE WORST YOU MESSED UP EVERYTHING.
You didn’t. Seriously. It was just one speech, and unless you’re the President and you accidentally just said “titties” on camera, no one’s going to remember in the end. Sometimes I catch myself sitting around and dwelling on all the embarrassing things I’ve done in my life. I would bet cash money that no one who witnessed those things remembers them—or if they do, they remember them as sort of a passing story rather than THAT TIME JACKSON RUINED EVERYTHING.

9. Everyone is on your side. Yes, it’s important enough that I’m saying it twice—and because you should know that everyone is on your side after you’ve given a speech. If you screwed up, you’re almost certainly beating yourself up way more than anyone else is—because guess what? Public speaking is probably scary for them too.

10. Don’t let one bad speech ruin you. While I was writing SISTERS RED, I got a terrible migraine in Borders moments after drinking one of those Naked brand smoothies. That smoothie had nothing whatsoever to do with why I got a migraine, but I will never ever ever drink one again. Don’t let public speaking become your Naked smoothie. Just because you screwed up once back in 4th grade and the whole class saw you turn bright red doesn’t mean you are bad at public speaking. It means that in 4th grade, you messed up a single speech.

11. Public speaking takes practice. And I’m not talking about practicing for a single speech. I’m talking about practicing public speaking, period. The more often you speak in public, the better you’ll be at it. If you’re truly terrified, start small and join a book club—one that’s not stacked with your BFFs. I also know a lot of people who have taken improv comedy classes to help them with their confidence in front of a crowd. And there are various organizations that focus on public speaking that are a quick Google away.

For what it’s worth, I also think performing arts—even if it’s not drama, where you’re speaking on stage—are hugely helpful for this, because you get used to eyes being on you. I could go on for hours about the various benefits of arts education, but I’ll be brief and say that the confidence I got from years of dance and winterguard has been invaluable.

And there you have it! Good luck, go forth, speak publicly. And do so without ever needing to picture the audience in their underwear like some kind of creeper.

The Elevator Pitch is a skill I want you– all of you, writers old and young and small and tall and here and there– to have. The Elevator Pitch is a skill you need.

So often we get caught up in the vastness of the worlds we’ve created, the characters we’ve meticulously honed, the subplots we’ve carefully laid out. We’ve spent SO much time on them, after all, and we want others to appreciate them!
The trouble is, all that stuff? That’s the stuff people find out and respect and admire when they READ the book. It’s not the way to sell people on the book before they’ve opened it. Think of the Elevator Pitch like a tagline, or the way you’d summarize a movie to your friend. You don’t tell them the nitty gritty, you tell them the big idea.

You: Want to go see Bring It On?
Friend: Maybe. What’s it about?
You: It’s about this girl who has taken over as a captain for a cheerleading team that always wins, and then they start to lose and she freaks out, but this new girl comes to town who is an ex-gymnast and joins their team, the main girl– the captain– ends up having feelings for that girl’s brother. And anyway, they train really hard and hire in this guy who is supposed to be an amazing cheerleading choreographer, but it ends up that he’s just shopping the same routine to all sorts of groups, and so the team gets disqualified. And then they also find out that all the cheers and routines they’d been doing for ages were actually stolen from this black cheerleading team from Compton that couldn’t ever afford to go to competitions, and so it’s like the main girl’s whole cheerleading history is stolen and faked. And so they take all these lessons and learn to like swing dance and stuff and then they do a fundraiser so the team from Compton can come compete, but the Compton girls find another way to get there because they don’t want pity to get them to the competition. And in the end there’s this big huge cool routine and the main girl is like YOU BETTER BRING IT and that’s what the title is all about, and then the black team wins but it’s cool because they were the best and the main girl is like Oh, this feels like first.
It’s a semi-dark comedy about competitive cheerleading.
Friend: I’m in!

If you’d given your friend the long spiel, her eyes would have started to glaze over. My eyes started to glaze over while writing that, and I freaking love Bring It On. Even if you’re not talking to an editor or agent or industry person, an elevator pitch is a clever way to make people think “My, that person has chops!” rather than “My, that person is still talking!”.

So, how to do it?
Take your book. Grind it down to the very, very basics. So, for example– I was talking about SISTERS RED in that scenario above, in the elevator. Instead of all that long-winded nonsense, I could have just said: It’s a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, about two sisters who hunt werewolves.
BAM. There’s you pitch. And for what it’s worth, that’s how it was pitched to my editor who wound up aquiring the book.

PURITY? It’s about a girl trying to lose her virginity before her Purity Ball.
TSARINA? It’s about a noble girl trying hunt down a magical Faberge egg in the middle of the Russian Revolution.

A slightly longer version is okay too, like:
DOUBLECROSS? It’s about a boy who has always wanted to be a super spy, like his parents. Even though he’s super smart and clever and works hard, he’s a bit chubby and isn’t able to pass the spy agency’s physical exam. But when his parents are kidnapped by a rival spy organization, he and his little sister are the only ones who can save the day.

Have your Elevator Pitch ready to go from the moment you start mentioning your book to people, because you never know when you might need it. Ages and ages ago, I remember calling an agency to verify their mailing information before I started queries. The woman who answered the phone gave me the info, then casually said “So, what’s the book about?”
And I basically said: dlkjflskdnfwlkerowuefoiwenrlwkejd0wejpfuweofch2i
Because I didn’t have my Elevator Pitch ready.

Often, when I’m at events or conferences or signings at stores, people mention to me that they write, and I always ask what the book is about– and more often then not, they don’t have their elevator pitch ready either. It doesn’t bug me or anything, but I can always see their faces getting red as they stumble through, trying to sort out what to say, reminding me oh-so-much of myself on the phone with that agency many years ago.

My point is, go forth, create your elevator pitch sooner rather than later. The world is full of elevators, after all, and you never know who you’ll get on board with.