Didn’t win but still want to pick up a copy for yourself, or maybe as a holiday gift for someone special? Cruise on over to Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, or your local independent bookseller. And while you’re waiting for it to arrive, don’t forget to check out Marilyn’s blog for updates and more chatty, fun posts!

Please welcome guest blogger Marilyn Brant, who is not only a lovely friend and avid blogger, but also author of the hilarious, romantic, and moving new book According to Jane. The story of a young woman who receives advice - some good and some questionable - from the spirit of Jane Austen, According to Jane won the Golden Heart, the top award for unpublished romance novels, quickly setting Marilyn - and her book - on the path to publication.

I loved According to Jane when I read it and can easily give it my recommendation. Read on to see how you can win a signed copy of your own! But first, Marilyn has a few things to say…

Over the past few months, Caryn and I had a running email conversation that went something like this:

July

Caryn: “Hey, when According to Jane comes out, how about doing a guest blog on my site? Maybe about what it’s like to be a debut author? Something fun like that?”

Me: “Oh, sure. Sounds great! Just let me know a good time. We can chat about it some more after I get back from the RWA conference. Did you know I have to bring bookmarks and postcards and all sorts of stuff this time? Even ARCs. Oh, there are gonna be a few extra meetings this year, too.”

Caryn: “Really? Like what?”

Me: “A bookseller/librarian gathering, a Book 3 planning session with my agent, a few publisher-hosted events. I get to meet my publicists…”

Caryn: “You get to meet your publicists? In person?”

Me: (nodding) “Kinda cool, eh? My publisher takes that whole marketing and selling thing pretty seriously.”

August

Caryn: “How’s it going — busy? Still want to blog next month?”

Me: “Yeah — to both questions. It’s weird, though, you know? There’s a LOT to do before a book comes out. I’d almost go so far as to say it’s an ENDLESS stream of work… Having a release date looming at the end of September is making my life surprisingly stressful. I’m not really sleeping.”

Caryn: “That’s not good.”

Me: “No. Um, not to change the subject abruptly or anything, but do you have any idea how to make a magazine-quality PDF for an advertisement that’s going to run in a national print publication with a readership of over 10K?”

Caryn: (squinting at her computer) “What?”

Me: “That’s okay. That’s okay. Never mind…” (pause) “How about newsletters? What have you heard about the pros and cons of email marketing?”

Early September

Caryn: “So, did you want to set a date for your blog visit now?”

Me: (fighting to breathe from underneath a suffocating stack of advanced reading copies for reviewers, unmailed prizes to contest winners, thank-you cards, 45 single-spaced pages of interview questions, promo details and Book 2 revision notes) “Huh?”

Mid-September

Caryn: “You okay? Maybe it’d be better to have you guest blog later — you know, AFTER the release. When things calm down a bit for you.”

Me: “OMG, OMG. They’re putting my BOOK on the SHELVES. In STORES!! And LOOK! Amazon reviewers!!” (pointing at the screen in a state of near-delirium) “They RATED it. With STARS! I mean, I knew they did that, but did you see what that one person from Seattle said about my main character?! It was NOT nice! But then this guy from Boston wrote in, and he said…” (wandering off to click obsessively at the different pages showing the Amazon rankings and review comments for the week of September 29, 2009)

Caryn: “Marilyn? Hello? Helllooooo??! You still there??”

Early October

Me: (in a stream-of-conscious monologue to anyone who stood still long enough to listen) “…and I have to do a few book signings THIS WEEK!! And a library presentation! And did you know how popular book clubs are?! I’ve been invited to SEVEN of them already! Why do people keep asking me if I’m okay? I’m FINE…really, totally fine…hey, are those chocolate-covered espresso beans? Could I have, maybe, a handful of those NOW? Also, who knows how to find out first-week sales figures? Someone here has to know that, right? Right?!”

Caryn: (muttering to herself) “I’m not even gonna try to email her…”

Late October

Me: “Oh, whoa. When did fall start?” (glancing around with the surprise of a revived coma patient) “That’s strange.”

Caryn: “So, you seem a bit calmer now with the release behind you. What’s it like being a debut author with your book out and everything?”

Me: “Hmm.” (trying to think of an apt comparison, given my rather fuzzy recollections of the past 4 months) “Well, even though I read Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, I’m hardly an expert on the living dead…but, given that it’s Halloween week and all, this might be the best way to explain it: You know how zombies are portrayed as sort of alive in that they’re wandering around, mindlessly doing lots of unnatural things but, mostly, they’re in this trance-like state of un-restfulness and their people skills really suck?”

Caryn: (typing back worriedly) “Yeah?”

Me: “Well, I think there may be few parallels…”

Hope you all have a Happy Halloween, Everyone! To Caryn and to those wonderful friends who put up with my crazy pre-pub zombieness this summer and fall, thank you!

Love Marilyn’s writing as much as I do? Leave a comment below to enter to win a signed copy of According to Jane. One winner will be randomly selected from all commenters on the evening of Sunday, November 1st. Can’t wait for Sunday, or maybe you want to get an early start on holiday shopping? Pick up a copy today!

When the charging is complete, the LED light will turn orange. As(sic) this point, the battery can be removed for use. It is recommended, however, that you leave the battery connected to the charger for another 30 minutes to ensure a full, or “topped off”, charge. It is best to remove the battery after charging but it is ok to leave the batery(sic) in the charger for a short time because the micro processor controller will reduce voltage loss.

Um, wha–? Take the “batery” out when? After the light turns orange, or a half hour after that, or after it’s finished charging, which is when, exactly? And if it’s supposed to come out a while after the light turns orange and there’s no buzzer or beep or bloop to tell me when that happens, how do I know? Do I time it? Do I watch the battery charge? That’s guaranteed to be a fun time.

And that is why I read the directions: They make me feel young. And they amuse me severely.

Frequently Asked Questions:

1) How are you feeling? Queasy and tired, thanks. And you?

2) How far along are you? 18 weeks. And, yes, still regularly visited by the quease. The second trimester is a myth. So is the “morning” in morning sickness. Just so you know. Oh, and I have to pee. Again.

3) When are you due? February 11 - give or take a few days. Yes, a Valentine’s baby. No, Cupid and Valentine are not naming options.

4) Okay, so are there any names that you do want to use? Yes.

5) Well, what are they? A surprise. They are a surprise. They are also subject to change. We’ll announce in February.

6) Girl or boy? Yes, we hope so. Oh, you mean, which one? We’ll know in a few weeks, but we have some preliminary results. We’re just waiting for backup to know for certain. Don’t want to announce one and have it turn out to be the other after all.

7) So you’re going to find out? Yup. That’s the plan. I never was big on surprises.

8) Will you tell us? If you ask nicely. I’ll probably announce it on Twitter and Facebook first.

9) Is this your first? Yes. Otherwise you’d probably have seen me mention other children a time or two.

10) So is this why you haven’t written in a while? Or, visited my blog? (Not to sound pouty, but… Yeah, among other things. Like the flu (which is no fun without Dayquil, let me tell you). And multiple internet outages (still). And a very busy time at work.

I could blame my long-ago English major for the glut, but my Intro to Shakespeare and Literature of the Romantic Era classes are only partly responsible for the jaw-dropping array of books that took over our back bedroom almost the moment we moved into this house. Piles upon piles soon spilled over the floor, most scattered and tumbled on a search for an unread volume or a beloved favorite. I could have hidden bodies under my Jane Austen collection alone, and no one would know. Not even the most dedicated English lit major could have read all these in four years, plus done all the requisite essays, coffee shop stops and poetry readings, and no sane professor would have required it.

No, a closer diagnosis of the problem actually comes down to one word: Obsession. Since I am a book collector with a typical collector’s zeal for accumulation and a horror of thinning the masses, my toppled stacks have only grown larger and more intimidating over the years. I suspect they brought others into the fold the way all the best cult members do, and naturally some of the more prolific ones bred, so there were soon tiny Little Golden Books running around everywhere, flashing their yellow foil spines and colorful covers. At least the Poky Little Puppy appeared to be house-trained or we’d really have had a mess.

And so over the course of the last several weeks I sorted and stacked and piled and boxed, employing a ruthlessness the strictest anti-clutter guru would applaud. Soon only my unread books and favorite re-reads remained, fluffing out a goodly number of shelves in place of the photos and knickknacks that used to occupy those slots. The second-tier books - the ones I liked but see no need to re-read - I farmed out to friends.

In the end, I dumped the final rejects, those even my friends wouldn’t take, into several crates bound for the library. This gave me a little twinge since it’s a bit of a moral dilemma. My soul could be in peril if I foist off my least favorite tomes on these unsuspecting librarians and their patrons. But then, someone must have seen something in them, or they wouldn’t have been printed in the first place. That’s what I tell myself anytime I encounter a book that doesn’t lift my balloon, at least: Someone must have thought it was good.

The upshot is that we’ve reclaimed a room. I also have a tidy little tax refund for a charitable contribution plus an entire set of shelves dedicated to unread wonders, making new book selection easy. Now the hard part: only buying the essentials until I’ve pared away the unreads. Wish me luck and a great deal of fortitude on that one. I’m going to need it.

And yet I am all about rainbows and butterflies and chirping birds and, yes, flowers. Not on t-shirts or binders or anything plastic and decorative, you understand. Just in reality, in this dimension.

Which is why I’m loving this summer so very much. Flowers are everywhere, blatantly growing and spreading and blooming. Three volunteer rosebushes sprouted in my vegetable garden, globe mallows are sweeping up and down the hillsides, and wild irises are grinning like lunatics in the mountain sunshine. It’s an obscene rainbow of blossoms carpeting everything outside of town except the rocks and asphalt. It’s like the Disney Channel, except no princesses.

What’s great about flowers, beyond the fact that they are nice-looking and they usually smell good and they stand still when I try to take pictures of them, is that they make no pretense whatsoever. They are all about the pollination, their petals and perfumes and colors brashly yelling, “Come and get it!” to any passing insects. It’s hard not to admire such honesty, especially when packaged so prettily.

Alas (if one can use such a word in 2009) this year the ridiculous abundance that overtook the local flowership completely skipped every fruit tree I know and love. Our neighbor’s apricot, which hangs halfway into our backyard, always produces enough to make any self-respecting fruit-lover sick to her stomach. This year, though? Only leaves. The plum tree? Nothing. Peaches? Not a one.

Only the Bing cherry in our front yard deigned to bring forth anything remotely edible - lots and lots of gorgeous cherries, swinging merrily in the early summer breeze. No doubt they were delicious, too. I wouldn’t actually know, you see, since the birds cleaned off the branches exactly one day before I planned my harvest. They did look yummy, though, plump and juicy and deep, sweet red.

Hrm. Now that I think about it, I take back what I said above about liking birds. Greedy little suckers. Flowers, though. Those I still adore. And rainbows and butterflies, of course. And once our trees start making fruit the way God and the garden center that sold them intended, I’m sure I’ll start liking them again, too. Check back next July, and I’ll let you know.

Obligatory flower photo. This one’s in our front yard.

Until last Monday it had been, oh, a while since I last seated myself in a pleather dental chair. But just over a week ago I took a loaded clipboard and a cheap black pen from a friendly receptionist, plopped down in an empty waiting room, and began to fill in approximately three thousand blanks while waiting for my name to be called. Turns out the paperwork required for a professional floss job is more invasive than a dating service questionnaire. They requested info on everything but my astrological sign^[3] and whether or not I want children someday^[4]. Even my marital status and social security number were up for discussion.

Of course, it would have gone a lot faster if a) they’d shown a little restraint in the inquisition department, b) I wrote as speedily - and as legibly - as I type, c) I could have stilled the jittery knee on which I’d balanced the clipboard and d) my own list of dental-related questions would have shut up as requested. How often do you have to floss in order to say you do it regularly? I found myself wondering. Is monthly enough? Will weekly work? And What are the moral implications of lying to my dentist about the last time I had my teeth professionally cleaned? Do you go to hell for that, or is it an understandable white lie? Do all your teeth fall out in retribution? And, finally, the tiny, niggling little If I lie, will they find out and dump me?

Still wondering if I’d gotten all the answers right, I handed the clipboard back and then dug through my bag for Meg Cabot’s latest, Being Nikki - a fun, but not particularly deep or intricate sequel that’s perfect for waiting room reading. And then they called my name. Swallowing hard, I gathered my stuff and followed the hygienist into the back.

With all the nervousness and questions, it’s no wonder the visit itself was pleasantly anticlimactic: Two hours of scraping and polishing and rinsing and digging and, yes, pain. Most importantly, though: No cavities. My teeth felt loose and puffy afterward, and encased by the same tingling ache I always experienced for days after I skipped my eighth grade history class to have my braces tightened.

I wrapped up the appointment by solemnly swearing to become better acquainted with dental floss, then gathered my stuff and beat it to the receptionist’s desk, where I set up my next appointment. Six months and counting.

Turned out I wasn’t done, though. As I swished through the waiting room and toward the door, still running my tongue over my newly sparkling teeth, one of the hygienists called me back to personally tell me goodbye and invite me to return, saying that I was fun and a pleasure to work with. I felt absurdly pleased, like a kid who wins high marks for cooperation on her third grade report card.^[5] Though I can’t say I enjoyed the visit myself, I can’t complain - I do still have all my teeth, after all, and that is the goal.

1. Do men even do that anymore?
2. Bonus points for accomplishing the goal with a minimum of pain.
3. Gemini
4. Yes
5. True story.

Skeptical? Itching for more specific proof than “every restaurant’s doing it”? Fine, then. Just witness this listing under the diet section of the restaurant menu mentioned above: ½ lb. ground top sirloin with a side of peaches and cottage cheese. And, no, I swear to you I’m not making this up. In fact, I just called the restaurant to verify, in case it was actually supposed to read “Mixed salad greens tossed in a light vinaigrette dressing, accompanied by a side of steamed broccoli and a dish of low fat cottage cheese”.

Since all evidence points to syrupy canned peaches, and we all know a whopping ½ lb. serving of beef doesn’t fit into traditional heart-healthy parameters, it must be the cottage cheese that makes this dinner choice “lite”. Which is the reason I had no worries about the contents of my plate at a family barbeque I attended on Saturday. All I had to do was add a spoonful of the miraculous side dish, and I could eat whatever I wanted. In fact, when I weighed myself that night, I had actually lost weight. It’s a miracle.

My kind of diet: Cheeseburger, baked beans, brownie and, of course, cottage cheese (which makes it all good for me).

“Really?” Wow. That hadn’t taken long. I’d been in Tucson about four hours, and already people were warning me about snakes. I adjusted the brim of my baseball cap so it blocked the afternoon sun, then tugged one of the straps of my backpack, sliding it off my shoulder. “I’d better change lenses, then. Where is it?”

The man’s wife grinned in understanding, her eyes mirroring the enthusiasm that must have been in my own, while the guy half-turned away from me and gestured up the narrow gravel path. “Up there about a hundred feet. On the left.”

I thanked them and nodded goodbye as they passed, then dug my telephoto out of my day pack, which was now hanging from the crook of my arm. I pushed my discarded lens into a thick sock to protect it, then gently rolled it into the bag.

Camera clutched in my hands tourist-style, I crept along the trail, alert for any movement, heart hammering in a rhythm that was half nervousness, half excitement. I passed several statuesque saguaro, then a cactus flower blooming a cheerful hot pink in the April sunshine, and made a mental note of both. I’d come back after I found the snake.

Only, there was no snake. I went my hundred feet, more, and…nothing. Disappointed at missing such an opportunity, I changed to my macro lens (for closeups) and strode back to the flower I’d seen. At least it had stayed put for me, posing prettily all the while.

Once on the trail again, I paused often for pictures. One such stop required a few illicit steps off the path, but the flowers were worth it. And just ten to fifteen feet further were more, clusters of huge lavender thistles and delicate cactus blossoms.

Already planning how best to photograph the flowers, I picked my way through the shrubs and rocks, then stopped short — three steps from a Western diamondback. It was coiled behind a paddle cactus, its tail hidden and silenced, its slitted eyes watching me warily.

Adrenaline washed through my paralyzed body in a cold tide. A cacophony of unprintable words screamed in my mind. Slowly, steadily, keeping one eye on the snake, I backed up, foot by careful foot.

Around a bend and out of sight I slid my pack off my shoulders, pulled it open with trembling fingers, and located my telephoto lens.

Pit viper or not, that snake was mine.

Excitement, fear, adrenaline — something had my hands quaking so violently I knew I’d never get a clear shot without help, so I yanked my tripod out next, opened it at top speed, and fastened my camera into place. I lowered the pack to the ground and swiveled back toward the bushes where the snake hid, then slunk forward, hoping that the rattler hadn’t fled, that I was not too late.

It hadn’t, and I wasn’t.

Western Diamondback Rattlesnake
Click here or on picture for larger image.

Thanks for coming, Eileen! First of all, for those who haven’t yet read it, could you tell us a little about What Would Emma Do?

I think of WWED as a mix between The Crucible and the movie Saved. I think I’ll cheat and use the back copy blurb to explain it:

Thou shalt not kiss thy best friend’s boyfriend…again….

There is no greater sin than kissing your best friend’s boyfriend. So when Emma breaks that golden rule, she knows she’s messed up big-time. Especially since she lives in the smallest town ever, where everyone knows everything about everyone else….and especially because she maybe kinda wants to do it again. Now her best friend isn’t speaking to her, her best guy friend is making things totally weird, and Emma is running full speed toward certain social disaster. This is so not the way senior year was supposed to go.

As the blurb and the title hint, WWED addresses some pretty deep issues, but it’s also hilarious and suspenseful, which is no easy feat! Author Meg Cabot admitted that it made her laugh out loud, and I know my mind kept returning to it every time I set it down, since I wanted to know what happened. So how long did it take you to write it, from when you first had the idea to when the book came out?

It took me about a year to write the book. I was lucky in that my agent was able to sell it very quickly - in a couple of weeks. Once with the publisher it takes about a year.  First there are edits, then when you think you are done there are more edits, covers need to be designed, and the sales team needs to talk the book up to bookstore representatives.  I had no idea it took so long from the time you sell a book to the time it hits the shelves. Patience is a virtue for writers.

I can see how that could definitely be a surprise. Other than the slow pace of the publishing industry what are some big misconceptions many people have about writing and/or publishing?

I know what surprised me about the process. I was shocked after my first book came out that the world kept spinning along just like it always did. There were no trumpets, no parade, and Oprah didn’t call. I have wanted to write as long as I could remember and it had been such a journey to publication that it seemed that life should somehow be RADICALLY different when it actually came true. The truth is that I still spend most of my days writing in a stretched-out sweatshirt and drinking gallons of tea.

If anyone wants to organize something, I am still very open to the idea of a parade.

I’m sure lots of other people are curious about how publishing works, and you’ve probably gotten numerous questions about it. What are a few that you wish people would just stop asking already?

My two favorite annoying questions would be: You’re a writer? How come I never heard of you? and How much money do you make?

Wow! How rude. Well, as you’ve made your way through publishing, you’ve clearly learned a lot. If you could go back in time and talk to your beginning writer self, what would you tell her?

I would tell myself to hang in there. I had a knack in the early days for taking everything very personally.  If someone told me they didn’t like my work it felt like they spit in my face. Then came back and pushed me down.  I wasn’t prepared for how loooooong the whole process would take and how there would people along the way who enjoy tearing other people down for the sake of making themselves feel better.

I would tell myself to write the books I want to write and worry about the business aspects later.

It sounds like it all came out right, despite those difficulties — lucky for us, since now we get to read your books! What were some of the best decisions you made in your publishing career?

One of the best decisions I made was choosing to sign with my agent, Rachel Vater (Folio Literary).  She has been an excellent business partner.  In this business you need to have someone’s opinion that you can trust.  I count on her to tell me honestly what she thinks of my manuscripts and advise me on details of contracts.  Rachel has a huge enthusiasm for her clients and always picks me up on those days when I want to throw my lap top across the room.

I always stress to other writers to make the agent choice carefully. In the midst of the agent search it can be easy to think “I’ll take anyone. Someone just please sign me!”, but this is going to the person representing you. A good agent can have a huge impact on your career. It’s like marriage, so choose wisely.

I would also add to my “good choice” list surrounding myself with good friends and fellow writers.

What’s your writing process like? Do you tend to plot everything before you start or do you make it up as you go along — or something in-between? How about your writing schedule? Do you have one?

People have a process? I really should get one of those. I love the idea of having a set routine or process, but I find my life keeps getting in the way. Sometimes I write at home and other times I like to be in a coffee shop or at the library. I write in the morning, afternoon or evening — depending on when I have the time. The only consistent would be that when I am in the middle of the story I find I need to write at least a small bit every day or I lose track of the story. What I would tell new writers is to try all different types of approaches until they find one they like. There isn’t one routine that works — it is a case of what works for you. I used to be a total pantster. I won’t ever make it to true plotter status, but now I’m somewhere in the middle. I usually start with a bit of an outline, but leave myself a lot of room to wander where the story takes me.

You’ve captured the YA voice very well. Do you read a lot of young adult books yourself? What are some of your favorites?

I love YA books!  Heck, who am I kidding? I love books period. I am a total author junkie. I love Meg Cabot, Judy Blume, Sarah Dessen, Jacqueline Mitchard, Meg Tilly, Elizabeth Scott, Lisa McMann — I could go on and on.

Anyone who writes (published or not) inspires me because it takes dedication to get the story down on paper and guts to put it out there for others to read.

What is one of the more memorable things that has happened since you’ve been published?

I’m not sure if it’s interesting — but it is funny. After my first book, Unpredictable, came out I was out in a public place and saw a random stranger reading my book. I was beyond excited. This is what I had always dreamed of — someone reading (and seeming to enjoy) something I wrote. I went up and said that I was the author of the book she was reading. We talked for a few minutes and then she asked me sign her book. When I took the book from her I realized it wasn’t my book, the cover looked similar, but is was another book. I signed the other author’s name and hightailed it out there. That was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment thus far — and also the most hysterical.

So what’s next, book-wise? Another YA or back to women’s fiction?

I’m soooo excited for my next book.  It’s called Getting Revenge on Lauren Wood.  It’s a tale of friendship, betrayal, revenge and classic movies. I had so much fun writing it. It will be out in either December or January.

I’ve also just heard that my proposal has been accepted to write a middle grade series, so that will be my next project. It is about a young girl who comes from a long line of fairy godmothers. She’d rather be normal. Mayhem ensues.

Those sound terrific! I’m especially excited about your middle grade series; the parnormal element can add such fun to a book! In the meantime, I’ll just have to content myself with What Would Emma Do? and Unpredictable, both of which are available now.