Deleted Scene from TIMEPIECE

I had sooooooo many deleted scenes in all three books, but especially in TIMEPIECE and INFINITYGLASS. The way I figure, I learned from my mistakes, so maybe you will, too! 

Set Up: Abi catches Kaleb and Lily making out in the kitchen of Murphy’s Law!

Why it didn’t work: In this version of the book, Lily and Kaleb kiss prior to him meeting Lily’s grandmother. I know it seems like a simple thing, but I needed Kaleb to realize that he cared deeply for Lily in a way that didn’t involve physicality. The conversation he has with Abi  (which is the same in all versions) is the catalyst that helps him acknowledge things are different this time (since he’s been such a douchecanoe with The Ladies in the past). Soooo, I took out the romance and moved it to a later scene. I always have to do that! (It’s because I like the kissing.)

SCENE:

“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely. I’ve tasted Lily’s cupcakes and I’ve never had anything like them. I’ll definitely be back for more.” 

It sounded lascivious instead of sincere, and about the time “that’s what she said” crossed my mind I figured out that Abi was as adept at innuendo as her granddaughter.  

Even though I hadn’t meant it that way at all. This time.

Abi’s hand flew to the rolling pin beside the cutting board, and she grasped the end tightly. “What?”

“I’ve had … the vanilla bean … with the …” I gestured with my hand, making the shape of swirled icing. My voice was way higher than it should’ve been. “With the cream stuff? They’re really good.” 

She relaxed her fingers on the end of the rolling pin. “Those are actually my specialty.”

“Oh. Well. I like them. A lot. So does my dad.” I smiled and tried to look respectable. She gave me the once over, lingering on my exposed tattoos. I was really glad I’d removed all my piercings. 

Then it hit me.

I actually cared what someone’s grandmother thought of me. 

I couldn’t stop my smile then, but I focused on Lily instead of Abi. She smiled back. 

We must have looked incredibly stupid, standing there grinning at each other like idiots, but I felt Abi’s heart soften. Just a little. 

“Okay,” I said, taking my jacket off the hook by the back door. “I’ll show myself out. I’m sure you ladies have a lot to discuss.” 

“Kaleb, wait. I want you here when I tell Abi what’s going on.” 

All feelings of goodwill disappeared. “No, I think it’s probably best if we wait – 

“I’m not waiting.” She turned to her grandmother. “We need to talk to you about something important.” 

I wish I could have warned her to phrase it a little better, because before either one of us could act, Abi had the rolling pin in her hand and was coming after me full steam.  

“Abi, wait!” Lily plucked the rolling pin out of the air about two seconds before it connected with my cranium. “We’d never even kissed until this afternoon.” 

I hoped and prayed she wouldn’t mention any of the other things that almost happened in the truck. 

“We should really sit down.” 

The timer on the commercial oven went off and Lily pulled out the last of the pies. 

“Put them on the counter to cool,” Abi said, still giving me the evil eye. “We’ll go upstairs.” 

She took the rolling pin with her. 

Completely Deleted Scene from Very First Hourglass Draft

It will be painfully obvious to you why this scene didn’t make it in the final version of HOURGLASS. 

Telling, no showing. Internal monologue. Angst. SO. MUCH. ANGST.

And …… clothed in the bathtub?

Yikes! 

 

I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in love with Michael Weaver.

I had excused myself and gone to hide in one of the upstairs bathrooms. I was actually lying down in the bathtub, fully clothed, with the curtain pulled.

 Granted, I could have made a worse choice for a first love. He was strong, mentally and physically, and so hot a trail of smoke practically followed behind him when he walked. So he was little secretive at times, but I was coming to understand the reasoning behind that one. I couldn’t deny that we had chemistry beyond anything I had ever experienced or even heard about, yet he made me feel safe and grounded. That was probably the clincher.

But how well did I really know him? 

We never talked about simple things, like where he and his family went on vacations, his favorite color, if he wanted to have children or not. Okay, maybe the kid part wasn’t simple, but it’s the kind of thing you should know before you go and fall in love with someone.

Did he want to work for the Establishment for the rest of his life? If he did, would everything he did for them be as dangerous as what we were about to attempt together? I didn’t even know his major, so if he didn’t want to work for the Establishment Hourglass what did he plan to do? What if it was something boring, like accounting? 

More than once he had alluded to the fact that we would end up together. He had given me a bunch of tripe about “probable versus possible,” but I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew first hand. When he talked about our connection he confirmed we had one in the future, but he never said in what way. Did we work together? Were we really good friends? Way more than really good friends?

I had actually fantasized about our wedding day – okay, mostly about our wedding night – before Jack interrupted me. Was I crazy? Was I setting myself up for a really hard fall?

Jack’s suggestion that Michael wasn’t trustworthy drug itself up from my subconscious. I had done such a good job of keeping it buried. It would so suck if I had all these romantic feelings for Michael and he didn’t have them for me. I trusted my gut enough to believe that he was a good person, and I didn’t think he was using me for personal gain. But part of me wondered if my cooperation were needed to achieve a greater good that Michael would do whatever it took to get it.

“Emerson?” Cat knocked on the bathroom door.

Thank HEAVEN for editors. Next week I’ll post some deleted scenes from TIMEPIECE, and give away a whole bunch of copies!

Five Years Ago Today

Five years ago today, I started writing HOURGLASS. 

Here’s the first page from the very first draft. 

 

Began July 17, 2008

 The sky opened up, encouraging heaven to pour rain and throw thunderbolts. I wasn’t impressed. When your life plays like a horror movie, atmosphere is secondary.

 My hometown of Silver Falls is beautiful in the haunting way an aging debutante is beautiful. Remnants of splendor are visible even when time and neglect do their damage. The bones are exquisite, but the skin could use a lift. You could call my brother a plastic surgeon.

Or an architect. 

I dashed through the relentless downpour towards his latest renovation project, dread overflowing from my stomach into my nervous system like the rain that was currently flooding the storm sewer. My experience with my brother’s work sites was more than a little sketchy and often appeared to be filled with characters from central casting. Like now. A wide-eyed Southern Belle wearing a blue silk Civil War era dress was blocking the front door. Completing her ensemble were a silk fan and a full hoop skirt. I had worn something like it to a costume party once, but hers was an original.

 I didn’t want to be here in the first place, and now I was going to have to deal with freaking Scarlett O’Hara to even get into the building.

 I sighed and stuck my hand through her stomach to turn the knob, rolling my eyes as she gasped, fluttered her eyelashes and disappeared.

“You know, Rhett didn’t give a damn, and I don’t either.”

 

Didn’t change much, did it? 

Tomorrow, a completely deleted scene from the first draft!

Faking Normal and a Chat with Courtney Stevens

Today I have a guest who’s also a dear friend. I love her for lots of reasons, and I think you will, too. Welcome Courtney Stevens, author of the upcoming FAKING NORMAL. This is such a special book, y’all. Trust me. 
 
M: OKAY. Questions. I’d just like the give the reader a taste of your personality – the way I see you. How did we meet? 
 
C: We met via Twitter (first) on the weekend I wrote the first fifty pages of Faking Normal. One of my friends saw you on a panel and said you used to be a youth/children’s minister. I DM’d you after that because I was also a writer and a youth minister. Later on, one of our mutual buddies threw a breakfast par-tay and we bonded. BEGINNING. Woot!
 
M: What about that time we ate Mexican food and you told me about the heart book that was so special to you? 
 
C: Post breakfast par-tay, we met at Chuy’s to share creamy jalapeno and stories. (Both being awesome and addictive.) I know we connected over books, but I remember thinking … Myra is one of my people. That has proved to be true in so many ways. That day we talked a little bit about 23 (the former title of Faking Normal) and how it was “the book I had to write.” The encouragement, laughter, thoughtfulness, listening ear, and suggestion that I meet one of your friends (CJ Redwine), was a gift and half. I am so very thankful for that day.
 
M: How long did it take you to draft FAKING NORMAL? 
 
C: I had the idea for Faking Normal on August the 8th. I put the final draft in the mail to an agent on October 18th. (Yes, of the same year.) 
 
M: Did it come out in one burst or was it a slow process? 
 
C: It actually came out in three bursts. I wrote the last 170 pages longhand at the beach in 13 days. (In a lovely red chair that I sometimes set up in the living room if I’m having a writing crisis.) Some books come out like old syrup; some come out like Niagara Falls. Faking Normal was my Niagara Falls.
 
M: You always send encouraging texts just when I need them. Why do you think you’re so sensitive to other people’s needs? 
 
C: First, I’m glad those texts are there when you need them. Second, I don’t know. Maybe it’s that people are sensitive to my needs, and the only response is to give back or pay it forward. As much as I believe in the power of the written word, I believe in the power of the spoken (& texted) word. For me, words act as anchors. And when I’m drifting around or worried or upset or need encouragement, I go back to powerful, encouraging things people have said to me. It would be amazing to think I could give people those anchors.
 
M: How do you want to extend that sensitivity to your readers? 
 
C: More than anything, I hope readers find an authentic and loving me behind the book of Faking Normal. I don’t know how that love will take shape–probably in many different ways–but I hope it’s visible no matter where I am or what I’m doing. This is a very lofty (and probably unobtainable) goal, but I don’t just want to write books, I want to be someone who impacts readers with love and truth.
 
M: What do you want your readership to look like? I mean, all writers want everyone to love our books, but who’s that one reader you want to reach? 
 
C: Honestly, I was that one reader. I wrote Faking Normal for me. Maybe that’s selfish, but I needed it. So everything that’s happened beyond that one girl channeling brave to write those words down is a bonus. An awesome bonus. Specifically, and I dedicated the book to them, there are girls and guys out there who believe the pain they have been through makes them unlovable. I’d like to drop an anvil and a battle axe on that lie.
 
M: One of my favorite things about you is that acceptance and love rolls off you in waves – it’s such a part of who you are. Does any of your previous job of youth minister carry over into your current job as author?
 
C: I hope so! My previous job was to love students. I still see that as my job. Not a job, a privilege! I do it a little differently now, but the goal is still the same: serve God, love people. And I guess what I mean by that is I’d like to think that the people who meet or read me find a thoughtful, truth-seeking, grace-giving human being who lives everyday with love on the agenda and thankfulness in the heart that any of these opportunities ever happened to her .

A grace-giving human with love on the agenda. SEE WHY I LOVE HER?

And now, a word from Courtney about her cover and a contest:

Hello awesome people! Before we get into the cover stuff, I want to thank all the bloggers and authors who are helping today with this reveal. This is such a fantastic and talented community, and I’m fortunate to be a part of it. And now on to the main event, the cover of Faking Normal:

Designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena

Reasons I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the cover: 1. It’s beautiful. 2. It tells a story without words. 3. Have you seen the awesome paper cut trees???

Here’s what the publisher (HarperTeen) has to say about Faking Normal:

Alexi Littrell hasn’t told anyone what happened to her over the summer. Ashamed and embarrassed, she hides in her closet and compulsively scratches the back of her neck, trying to make the outside hurt more than the inside does. At school, nobody sees the scratches or her pain. The only person she connects with is the mysterious Captain Lyric, who writes song lyrics on her fourth-period desk for her to complete. With pencil marks and music, Alexi carves out a comfortable space for herself as she and the Captain finish each other’s songs – words on a desk feel safer than words spoken aloud. But when Bodee Lennox, the quiet and awkward boy next door, comes to live with the Littrells, Alexi discovers an unlikely friend who understands her better than anyone. He has secrets of his own and knows all about suffering in silence. As they lean on each other for support, Alexi gives him the strength to deal with his past, and Bodee helps her find the courage to finally speak up. With her powerful, moving debut novel, author Courtney C. Stevens emerges as an extraordinary new talent to watch.

Faking Normal will be released from HarperTeen on February 25, 2014. Yes, this is earlier than the date listed on Amazon.

About the author:

Courtney C. Stevens grew up in Kentucky and lives in Nashville, Tennessee. She is an adjunct professor and a former youth minister. Her other skills include playing hide-and-seek, climbing trees, and being an Olympic torch bearer. Faking Normal is her first novel.

The goods on the Cover Reveal Contest: You don’t know me. Twitter doesn’t know me. Facebook doesn’t know me. Goodreads doesn’t know me. Amazon pre-sales doesn’t know me. (This is one of the great challenges of being a debut author.) Please help change my anonymity by placing Faking Normal on the radar of readers, bloggers, reviewers, and you know … people who like to win stuff. A few deets on the prize package- The winner receives: – A signed ARC of Faking Normal – A hand-painted cover rock by Court – Signed postcard – Silicone “Channel Your Brave” bracelet Since hand-painted cover rock isn’t usual book swag, I thought you might want a little background. In my little family, we paint rocks for significant events. I currently have three different book rocks that someone in my family made. One for when I got an agent, another for when I went out on submission, and finally one for when we sold Faking Normal. I thought it would be cool if I shared the tradition with one lucky winner by making a cover-inspired rock. (You might also be interested to know the bottom of the rock contains a spoiler: some of the first lyric quotes written by the main character and her Captain Lyric.) Enter by filling out the Rafflecopter linked to below. (U.S. only. Giveaway ends July 8, 2013.) Rafflecopter giveaway

You can find Courtney here: Email – channelingbrave@gmail.com Twitter Tumblr Facebook And she would love if you would add Faking Normal to your Goodreads shelf and pre-order Faking Normal on Amazon.

INFINITYGLASS POV Reveal

I am so excited to finally be able to share the POV of INFINITYGLASS with you!

I’ve known this character for three years, and I imagine she’s exactly what would happen if Emerson and Kaleb had a baby. (They’re not having a baby.)

Go to Romantic Times to meet Hallie!

And here’s the second chapter on hypable, introducing the SECOND POV (a character you’ve already met)!!!!

 

Writing is Like Eating a Kit Kat and Honesty about Depression

First of all, let me apologize for the crickets you’ve been hearing around here for the last two months. I have a reason. 

I wrote INFINITYGLASS, beginning to end, THREE SEPARATE TIMES. 

The third try took, and I’m finishing up copy edits now. My new release date is August 6th, 2013, and I can tell you that after a whole freaking lot of angst and crying and super concentrated self-loathing, I am proud of the finished product.

Sometimes writing a book is like eating a Kit Kat. You bite off the chocolate edges, but that’s not enough. You take apart the crispy layers and lick off the filling, but that’s not quite satisfying. And then finally, FINALLY, you get to the crispy wafers, and the taste sensation is complete. 

Then you think, YANNO, if I had just taken three big bites, that sucker would’ve gone down a whole lot easier. And maybe, just maybe, my fingers would be clean and I would still have my sanity. Or, as my husband (unwisely) said about INFINITYGLASS, “If you had just done it right the first time, you wouldn’t have had all this trouble.” 

RIGHT after he said that, everything that had been on his desk was on the floor. It is a thing I do when he angers me. *I* think he’s lucky I don’t resort to pulling out his leg hairs or replacing his shampoo with Nair. He mostly just fusses at me, until he starts laughing. It always ends in laughing. I’m a lucky woman.

I’d mentioned on the Twitter that this past year has been rough, mentally and emotionally. I’ve never been ashamed to talk about my struggles with depression, mostly because so many of you who also struggle have reached out to me. *fist bump of solidarity* 

Depression is not a thing to take lightly. If you have symptoms (click here to visit TWLOHA), please talk to someone. There’s most definitely a link between depression and creativity. I know a lot of creatives who choose not to medicate, and many who do. It’s a personal choice and different for everyone – you do you.

I usually deal by using my favorite weapon, laughter, but it doesn’t always work. About this time last year, I went to my doctor, Dr. Who Gets It, and told him I was having a particularly difficult time shaking off a depressive episode. Like, I couldn’t. At all. Dr. WGI deals with a lot of creatives: song writers, singers,  and other artists. He understands I want to be on a dosage that keeps the depression under control, but that doesn’t level me out so much I can’t function. 

I switched medications. Two weeks later, I was a solid bruise. I have a bleeding disorder, and the new medicine affected my platelets. I had to stop taking it. Immediately.

In that case, cold turkey was not a good thing. 

It took me about two months to get myself back together, but it was a ROUGH two months, and the repercussions spun out even longer. Everything is okay now, amen. I learned a few things through the experience about depression that I want to share.

1) Don’t isolate yourself from people who love you. I did. I cut off my friends, and I lost a couple. I am so grateful for the ones who stuck around and tough-loved me anyway, who g-chatted, face timed, Skyped, dropped by, and texted. Y’all know exactly who you are. I also learned that when you get a little niggle to check in with someone, do it. 

2) Consider how you spend the limited emotional energy you have. I had to step away from social media, both from the relationships and the promotion – but especially the promotion. I had to let go and hope that readers would find me. My boys took precedence, and I have no regrets.

3) Get some accountability. I had tweeted something about the specific experience of writing a third book, and Stephanie Perkins saw it. She DM’d me, and then she called me. I’d only met her a couple of times, but knew she was a kindred spirit. SHE GOT IT. She knew exactly where I was, and she didn’t let me stay there. She checked in every day. I love her dearly, and I’m so, so grateful to know her. 

4) Balance. Balance. Balance. I still struggle with this. My previous MO was to spend days, weeks, months, writing ALL the books. Then days, weeks, catching up on ALL the correspondence. Then cleaning ALL the things. Then seeing ALL the people. Doing a quality amount of those things every day is my new goal. 

5) If you work from home, make an office space and work in it. Have BOUNDARIES. We bought this sexy red leather chair for our living room last spring, and it now has a permanent imprint of my A$$. I want to set it on fire. Arson is not the answer – boundaries are. I need set work hours and a space I can walk away from. If you do, too, but don’t have the luxury of a room of your own, close your computer and put it out of sight when work time is over.

I’ll stop now, because this post is long, and I need to pluck my eyebrows, pick up some vodka, and drive to Kentucky for the Southern Kentucky Book Festival. The vodka will remain in the trunk, JSYK. I hope some/any/all of my experiences will help some/any/all of you. If you struggle from depression, know you aren’t alone. 

And if you’re a writer, maybe ponder on how you choose to eat your Kit Kats. 

INFINITYGLASS Cover!

First off, congratulations to SARA HAGEN, winner of the Triple Threat Blog Tour Grand Prize! You’ll be receiving an email shortly!

Now. 

This one time? My editor and I? We tried to break into a ballroom. 

It was important. Infinityglass takes place in New Orleans, and after exhaustive research, I discovered the best place to set a certain scene was in the very historic Bourbon Orleans ballroom. 

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So, AMONG OTHER PLACES IN THE BOOK OF WHICH I HAVE PICTURES, Regina and I went to this fabulous hotel. And discovered the ballroom was locked. I took this through the crack in the door. 

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Following one of my life mottos, “It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission,” I wiggled door handles. I tried to bribe staff. We eventually went down to the lobby, and not only did they offer to take us inside the ballroom, they were helpful and gracious about it. (Which goes to show you my life mottos are questionable. Except for the one about Not Engaging The Crazy.) 

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Of course, it was everything I hoped it would be. Me (photo courtesy of TAMMY JONES): 

Me on the Floor

 

Taking this picture: 

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AND THEN, I SAW IT. Serendipity.

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THIS.

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WHICH BRINGS US TO THIS:  


Infinityglass Final 2:13 

WHAT DO YOU THINK?!? It fits the mood of the book so perfectly, which is creepier than Hourglass or Timepiece. I’m just saying, SHIZ goes DOWN.

I can’t wait to tell you whose point of view it’s from. *evil author chuckle*

What Stan Musial Taught Me About Kindness

My baseball life isn’t something I talk about much anymore. This is funny, now, because for almost ten years, I ate, slept, and breathed it. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

I spent the summer of 1992 in Saint Louis, Missouri, working with a group that ministered to the needs of inner city residents, mostly children. 

If you know me, you know how fascinated I am by cultures that are different from mine, and how I want to know everything about everyone, and live every life, and have every experience. (Why, yes, I am a writer.) I relished almost every second I spent in Saint Louis.

What I did not relish was the part-time job I had to work so that I could actually eat while I lived there. Ahhh, Casa Gallardo. I was a hostess. I had to wear a fluffy, colorful skirt with an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. At that point in my life, there wasn’t a lot to keep that shirt up.  It was not hot, y’all. It was not even lukewarm

One busy Sunday, a big family came in and asked for a table. I proceeded to put them on a long wait, along with all the other people in the lobby. No complaints. 

I asked the man his last name so I could put him on the list.

He said, “Musial.” 

I said, “What?”

He said, “Musial.” 

I said, “How do you spell that?” 

Forty-five minutes later, when I called the name out over the intercom, two things happened. 

The first was that half the restaurant jumped out of their seats and rushed to the Dick’s Sporting Goods store across the parking lot to buy baseballs and Sharpies. The second was that my managers came running to the hostess desk from the back of the restaurant and pulled me to the side.

“Never, never, never do that again,” one said. 

“Do what?” I asked. 

“You don’t call famous people over the intercom,” the other said. 

“Who’s famous?”

It was an innocent question. I grew up listening to University of Tennessee football, and while my town had a minor league team, I’d only ever been interested in who was the cutest in the program pictures. 

“That’s Stan Musial.” 

Me, still clueless: “Who?” 

“Have you been to the Cardinals stadium? Have you seen the statues? Did you watch Happy Days? STAN the MAN?” 

Miraculously, they didn’t fire me.

I watched a line form at Mr. Musial’s table, all those people with their freshly purchased baseballs, holding them out for the poor man to sign. So many he couldn’t even eat. I felt like CRAP. I hemmed and hawed, and debated, and finally got up the nerve to go over to his table. There was hand wringing. And probably sweat. 

“Sir,” I said, kneeling by his seat. “I am so, so sorry. I’m from Tennessee, and I don’t really know much about baseball, but I wanted to say I’m sorry for making you wait, and for calling out your name — 

He stopped me. Made me pull up a chair. Introduced me to his wife, Lil, who had on a fabulous blue pantsuit, and was accessoried like you read about, most notably with a smile. He took my hand in his, told me not to worry, and then he and Lil chatted with me for a few minutes about life in general. 

He was unfailingly gracious and kind. 

Fast forward two years, to the July 4th I met one Ethan McEntire, a minor league baseball player in the New York Mets organization. He proposed three months later.

Fast forward two more years, to the spring night I sat in a stadium in Columbia, South Carolina, where I met Mr. Musial’s son. He ran “Stan the Man.” I told him my story. He told me he thought he remembered hearing it. When he found out I was married to the left-handed pitcher on the mound, he told me that he would pass the story along to his father. He thought he would appreciate the way things ended up. (I often wonder what he would’ve thought if he’d discovered I was a general manager for the Kingsport Mets for three years.)

Since that day, I’ve never asked anyone famous for an autograph unless their express purpose at the time was giving them. Not even when I ran into Rob Pattinson outside the bathroom at Comic-Con last summer. 

Stan Musial taught me something in five minutes of interaction, and I never forgot it. He showed me how to be gracious. How to have no pride in who you are or what you’ve done, but to instead show kindness for fellow humans whenever you can. Even to a country hick nineteen year-old girl who didn’t know a change up from a slider. I do now.

Sometimes, people autograph your hearts. Stan Musial did that for me, and the memory is more valuable than anything I could ever sell on EBay. 

Rest in peace, Mr. Musial. And thank you. 

About Hopeless by Colleen Hoover

Monday, December 10th, 2012

12:00 PM

I got off the phone with Excellent Editor Regina, after I told her my crazy plans for rewriting Infinityglass. You know. That book that comes out this summer. I’m shell shocked, but excited. Ready to take it on.

 

Monday, December 10th, 2012  through Thursday, January 10, 2013

6:30 PM

Cry, plot, eat, write, delete, write, cry, pretend I’m not plotting at Christmas dinner, forgo any New Year’s activities to write, shut down the Twitter so I can concentrate fully on the book, cry, delete, laugh hysterically, eat, eat, and cry. Also, write.

6:31 PM 

My back goes out. It does this when too many hours at my desk chair make it angry. 

9:00 PM

Flat on my back with a tens unit applied to offending muscles. Decide to Read Something. Have my phone with my Kindle app in my hand. See HOPELESS by Colleen Hoover with a bajillion amazing reviews. One click ordering. BOOM. Read the first few chapters. Adore the voice. Remember why reading while revising is always a good idea. Fall deeper in love with the voice AND the writing. Pain pills kick in, so I go to bed.

 

Friday, January 11, 2013

9:30 AM

Sit down to work. Am tempted by the Kindle app on my MacBook Pro. I SUCCUMB.

11:48 AM

Get a phone call from Stephanie Perkins, my writing accountability partner and dear, sweet friend. Cannot make words because of the crying. Make tear and snot induced noises and promise to call back the second I’m done. 

11:49 AM

Husband brings home lunch. Keep reading. 

1:01 PM

“The End.” Realize the whole front of my “Bunnies Will F*cking Kill You” t-shirt is completely soaking wet from All the Crying Ever in the Whole Universe. 

(This book will help people. Change people. This is why books with pure, authentic emotion will win every time over writing style. However, the writing style is so, so strong and amazing. The VOICE. The whole thing is amazing. I want Colleen Hoover to move into my house and tell me stories every day. Her family will be FINE. I will feed her cupcakes and buy her a pony – this is how much I love this woman’s skills. Y’all, this book. I can’t even. I’ve not written a review in years, even for my besties. BUY IT. ALSO BUY TISSUE, OR WEAR AN ABSORBENT T-SHIRT. Also, heads up, it is a very sexy book that deals with some very serious issues. Also also, HOLY CRAP, HOLDER. Or as my neighbor said, “SMOLDER HOLDER.”) 

1:14 PM

See my lunch is still on the table.

1:31 PM

Post. 

1:32 PM

Put on (dry) Doctor Who t-shirt and get back to work. 

 1:44PM

Remember lunch.

Merry Christmas 2012!

RING OUT, WILD BELLS
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.