Nikki Loftin

Archive for the ‘Family News’ Category

My Ideal Listener

I am hip deep in halligators, Writer Friends. I’m writing and revising my way to sending a new manuscript off, and I only have a few minutes to post here, but I had to share this wish for you:

I wish for you, an ideal listener. Not reader, although ideal readers are out there, and when you find one, it makes you want to write faster and better, thinking of your words flying across the page in front of their wide, hungry eyes.

I have an ideal listener, and I think it’s possibly the best part of my writing life.

My ideal listener sits on the bed behind me as I read the chapters of my WIP aloud, wating patiently as I correct typos on the fly, listening intently to every word. He laughs and hoots and kicks at the covers when I read the funny bits. When the tension mounts, he stands up, crosses the room, and stands right behind my chair, his quick breath on my shoulder, tense fingers gripping the back of my chair.

He sneaks out of bed sometimes at night long after I’m done reading, tiptoes downstairs, opens my documents file, and steals an illicit next chapter because he can’t wait.

He tells me, at bedtime, that the book I’m writing is the best he’s ever heard, better than anything.

“Rick Riordan good?” I ask.

Yes.

“Better than… The Ranger’s Apprentice?” I ask.

Yes.

“You’re crazy. How about… Harry Potter?” We laugh. It is *almost* sacrilege.

Different, he says. Just as good.

Then: Can I hear just one more chapter tonight? Please?

I know it’s not all true, Friends, but it doesn’t matter. You need at least one cheerleader on the sidelines at the early stages of the game. And if your cheerleader will sit quietly as you read aloud (the MOST important part of revision, in my estimation), it makes even that part of the process deeply rewarding.

Now I have to go write about wishes, and ideas, and seeds. Just a few more pages…

Write well, Friends!

 

Book Launch Envy

Austin has a lot: great music, wonderful food, a laid-back, wear-your-jeans-to-the opera vibe… and books.

Oh, do we love our books.

I’ve been hanging out at the local indie bookstore, Bookpeople, a WHOLE lot recently. Not only am I attending to support my Writer Friends’ book launches, I’m also being dragged there by my kids, who also love them some readin’.

Last week I noticed something… interesting. Book launches are getting more and more exciting.

I mean, seriously. At Cory Putman Oake’s launch for her new YA novel, The Veil, there were… cheerleaders.

Also brownies, but that may only be exciting to me.

And then, at John Flanagan’s launch for Book One: The Outcasts of his new series, The Brotherband Chronicles, there was honest-to-goodness sword fighting. (By trained professionals. If they’d given swords to all the kids, there would have been a higher body count.)

Also, knights in real armor, and more Ranger’s Apprentice look-alikes than you can shake a bow staff at. I thought I’d wandered into the Renaissance Festival for a minute.

It was absolutely cool.

I can’t even express how much I approve of this new trend. But it has me a little worried. How will I make my own launch next year stand out?

Have a gingerbread school contest?

Get impoverished and/or child actors to act out the scariest scenes?

Hire a local coven to come with a cauldron full of fake body parts… or worse?

I could use some help here. I don’t think I can work the sword fighting in at this stage – I’m proofing the final pass pages this month! (And can I just say that seeing my name on the copyright page is the HUGEST rush?)

 

 

 

The Biggest Book Nerd Ever

I think it might be me, friends.

Let me explain. This weekend was the Texas Book Festival, the most wonderful, free, fabulous event ever in Austin. I did it right this year.

I sat in on panels with authors I know and love like Elaine Scott, Varian Johnson, Jeanette Larson, Chris Barton, and Jennifer Ziegler — and authors I don’t know as well, but still love, like Rosemary Clement-Moore, Jill Alexander, and Joe Schreiber. I had lunch with the amazing Mary Johnson and other writer friends at Z’Tejas on Saturday, then took the Texas State Cemetery tour after dark.

At the cemetery, I shook Louis Sachar’s hand (then couldn’t wash it until I got home and rubbed the talent germs on both my sons, not kidding, I KNOW), then hung out with Cynthia Leitich-Smith, Jessica Lee Anserson, Shelli Cornelison, Jen Bigheart, Emily Kristin Anderson, oh and let’s not forget freaking Libba Bray and Sarah Dessen and… I can’t remember them all.

On Sunday, I listened to Rebecca Stead and Kate DiCamillo talk about their writing processes and what it’s like to win a Newbery (frightening and wonderful and dangerous if you believe it means you are the bomb because of it, according to these two). They were hilarious. I skulked around their signing tent with my husband and son until we were able to snap these pics.

 

 

Afterward, I went to MORE panels, bought books, visited with magazine editors – ones I’d worked with before who I’d never met (which was so cool) and ones I may work with in the future (yay!) — librarians, booksellers and even some official Penguin people. Squee!

That night, after dinner, I was exhausted, but so happy.

Then I heard that Johnny Depp was playing an unscheduled gig (who knew he played guitar?) at the Nutty Brown Cafe, a hot hill country music venue at the end of my street. (I knew he really was in town, since a bunch of my friends had their pics of him from the night before up on Facebook.) We were driving past the Cafe, the music was going, and Dave said – “wanna go?” It wasn’t even that crowded.

I thought about it.

I mean, this guy?

But then I thought – no big. I’d already been in the presence of my rock stars all weekend- the authors who write so well, feel so passionately, and are so incredibly generous with their time and energy. Johnny Depp has nothing on Kate D. or Louis S.

And it was a school night, after all. And… I *did* have a new book I’d gotten at the Festival to read…

So we drove on.

And that, my friends is how I know I am the Biggest Book Nerd Ever.

Now, I’m off to write another thousand words on my Shiny New Manuscript. I might stare at a few Johnny Depp pictures later. You know. Just for inspiration.

Possess: How A Book Saved My Whole Neighborhood*

I was supposed to be writing today. I came home from my other job, setlled down in front of my computer, checked the email… and gazed longingly at this.

My new book, the book I’d been hearing all those good things about.What? You haven’t heard of it?

Well then, here’s the blurb from Goodreads:

Fifteen-year-old Bridget Liu just wants to be left alone: by her overprotective mom, by the hunky son of the police officer who got her father killed, and by the eerie voices which she can suddenly and inexplicably hear. Turns out the voices are demons–the Biblical kind, not the Buffy kind–and Bridget possesses the rare ability to banish them.

San Francisco’s senior exorcist and his newly assigned partner from the Vatican enlist Bridget’s help with increasingly bizarre and dangerous cases of demonic possession. But when one of Bridget’s oldest friends turns up dead in a ritualistic sacrifice that mirrors her father’s murder, Bridget realizes she can’t trust anyone. An interview with her father’s murderer reveals a link between Bridget and the Emim: a race of part-demons intent on raising their forefathers to the earth in human form. Now Bridget must unlock the secret to the Emim’s plan before someone else close to her winds up dead, or worse–the human vessel for a Demon King.

 

It was supposed to be my Reward Read – the one I let myself devour after I finished the week’s word quota.

But it kept calling me.

The call of this book was stronger than chocolate.

Of course, I really NEEDED a good read – I’d been stressed to the limit by all the Texas wildfires, and the one that had broken out twice across the street over the weekend had made me pack and unpack my Most Precious Preciouses more than once. (Look for a vlog on that late this week.)

You know what happened. I started reading. But what you don’t know was that I couldn’t put the book down. It was un-put-downable. I kid you not, this book? AMAZING. It reminded me of Lisa DesRocher’s excellent Personal Demons a bit, but maybe more scary. It has everything: hot guys, a great, strong female main character (maybe I should hve put that before hot guys?), scary demonic possession stuff, and pacing to beat the band.

LOVED it. You need this book – go out and buy it. But how, you might ask, could this book have saved my whole neighborhood?*

I’m getting there.

My favorite reading chair is upstairs, in my bedroom, next to the window that overlooks the valley by my house. After I read a while in my office, near my computer, I got tired of the way Ms. SmartyPants Computer was staring at me, whispering tacky things about “word count failure” and “lazy procrastinators” and “reward books are the Devil,” so I gave up and went upstairs.

I was reading there, by the window. I happened to look up (probably to entreat the Heavens to allow me to write something this awesome) and saw a wisp of smoke out the window. And then, red flames.

Yep, the next door property was on fire again.

Poeple, if I had been downstairs, I would not have seen this. I would not have KNOWN to call the fire in. It’s entirely possible that Gretchen McNeil’s book, POSSESS, saved my home, my neighborhood… possibly my life.

So, seriously. But this book NOW. The next life it saves could be your own.

* Okay, truthfully? One other neighbor saw the smoke and called it in, so maybe we wouldn’t have all been left without homes. But you NEVER KNOW.

Origami Yoda, or How To Do an Author Signing

So, one of those things Debut Authors do in those months up to The Big Day (whch I have found out recently for MY first book, is August 21, 2012!! Woo hoo!) is go to other author’s events.

Of course, we do this anyway, sometimes because the authors are friends/heroes/mentors, and/or because we love their books, and sometimes because we have no other lives anyways and the Roller Derby was sold out. But anyway…  we debuts go, and take notes.

Oh, wow. I could have *filled* a notebook last week at Tom Angleberger’s Darth Paper Strikes Back book signing at Bookpeople in Austin. I could have… but I was laughing too hard to take any notes at ALL!

Now, I’ve been to some pretty good author events. But this guy? He remembered something, I think, that many of us forget when we start talking to a large group of people about our writing-y things.

He remembered who his real audience was. And he spoke to them.

Adults were there, sure, but Tom writes for middle grade kids (of which there were MANY in attendance) and he never forgot that. It was like a stand-up comedy skit for kids, with some juggling and reading thrown in to break things up.

How’s this for getting your audience? He dressed a kid up in an enormous origami Yoda costume.

Every kid there was taught how to make a five-fold “emergency” Yoda, to take home. You know, just in case you need some Jedi wisdom some afternoon.

He drew pictures in all the books he signed.

And every time a kid raised a hand, even if their comment was way off-base (as can happen when kids get REALLY excited and try to make jokes with their favorite author), he was respectful and considerate.

And in doing that last one? He had every single parent there in the palm of his hand, too. Like me. He could write a thousand books, and I would buy them all in hardcover at full price, just because I want to show my appreciation.

Now, I don’t fold paper in my debut novel. I also can’t juggle, and I don’t have a hilarious scene about pee stains guaranteed to have the elementary-aged set rolling on the floor. But Tom gave me a whole lot to think about for my upcoming signings. Things about connecting with your target audience, dressing the part, and giving respect to the whole crowd.

Even the tiny, noisy little 3rd grade Sith Lords.

Sixth Grade PTSD

Today is one of the worst days of the year for me: the first day of school. No, not school for me, sillies. For my kids.

I know, I know. It’s dumb. I get all worked up, worrying about them all day. Will they get to eat lunch with a friend? Will their teachers like them? Will they be teased/bullied/left out?

And this year I have a sixth grader, so my fears are intensified. My memories of sixth grade are… painful. Yes, that’s a word that fits. But not painful in the “wincing when I think about my clothing choices back then” way. More like “throwing up in my mouth when I even hear the words ‘sixth grade’ and curling into the fetal position for a week” way.

Yes, Friends. THAT bad. I had to transfer out of one school and into another one in the middle of February in sixth grade, when my mother finally figured out just how psychologically disturbed I was getting.  (Of course, when we had that talk, she switched me to my new school in two days. And those two days were hooky days, where we went shopping and to movies. Good mom, right?)

Anyway, all this got me to thinking — why in the name of all that’s holy do I write middle grade? Because, seriously, I have to put myself in the head space of an 11 year-old kid every freaking day!!! I have to remember exactly what that was like, and recreate it on the page, and then try to solve the problems of my poor, tortured characters. I’m trapped, mentally, in sixth grade.

I think I have PTSD. Sixth grade PTSD, to be exact.

Anyone else out there conducting their own self-therapy regimen through your writing? Maybe your freshman year at high school was the one. Think about it — are all your characters 14/15 years old? Or am I the only one who seems to be stuck in the WWI Foxhole Year of My Youth?

On a side note, it is rather satisfying to make money off all that pain. So there is that.

Thoughts? Sympathy? Horrible stories about swirlies and sadistic teachers? (FYI, I’m going to be writing a book in November/December set in a demon-infested sixth grade where I poorly veil and only ever-so-slightly change the names of all the teachers and kids who tortured me. Maybe then I’ll have peace. )

 

Scared to Let Go

It’s been an interesting summer. My first book, The Sinister Sweeetness of Splendid Academy, is off at copy edits right now. I’ll admit, on the final round of line edits, I found myself almost physically unwilling/unable to hit send. To declare myself DONE! There had to be something I could do to make it better, right? Maybe just rewrite that first chapter one more time? It was — and remains — a scary thing, that letting go of a manuscript, handing it over to an editor/copyeditor. (And someday soon, it probably will be just as difficult to know it’s in the hands of a critic/critical reader. Excuse me while I wet my pants now.)

But it had to be done. I cashed the check.

And I wrote another book.

And then got even another idea. An amazing idea that gives me the shivers.

Now I’m in that prayerful time, the last weeks leading up to my total immersion in that New Idea. There’s only one thing –I shouldn’t call it new. This one is a manuscript I’ve started and stopped so many times, rewritten in different points of view — different genres, even! — that it feels like an old friend.

An old friend I wanted to poison with arsenic at times, but an old friend. You know what I mean.

The thing is, I just realized — it wasn’t the story that was at fault. It wasn’t weak, or flawed, or any of that other nonsense that can lead to the manuscript graveyard. It was me — I had the story muddled. I’ve been telling it from the POV of the wrong character. Now that I’ve realized that, it all seems so… obvious. Natural. But I had to let go of my original idea, my belief that the story belonged to this other character.

If I made this “realization” sound easy, it wasn’t. I’ve been fooling with this one for a long, long time. I just couldn’t let the other POV character go.

Do you find yourself doing that? Staying married to one idea of how a story “should” go, when the story itself is telling you something else entirely? Does it derail you? Does it invigorate you? Does it drive you to drink copious amounts of gin, and flirt with a diabetic coma brought on by too much British chocolate?

Or is that just me?

Maybe you find yourself feeling like this in your writing life:

I know I do, and often. But usually it’s a good scared.

Stay scared, Writer Friends. Terrified even. Hold on as long as you can.

Just know when it’s time to let go.

 

 

 

 

Dark Middle Grade, Anyone?

There’s a been a bit of a furor on the Internet/Twitter/Author circuit about the Terrible Darkness that’s infecting the Young Adult bookshelves at Barnes and Noble.

I am SO not going to weigh in on this argument, folks. Not that my opinion would make a difference. Let’s just say I’ve been shaking my head a lot.

And wondering what in the world they’re going to think once the Darkness Police get their hands on my current manuscript.

Why do I wonder this? Well, to give you a very vague, non-spoilerish hint…

I was at my dad’s house the other day. I’d dropped in for a cup of coffee and a chat, and he very politely asked what my next book was about. (He’s good that way — he knows all his writer-daughter really ever wants to talk about is ice cream and/or her novels.) When I told him, he smiled, hopped up, and said, “Oh! That sounds great. I think you might need a book I have.” And then he went and got this for me:

What would those Wall Street Journal folks think of that? We may very well find out.Won’t that be fun?

So… what awesome books have you collected for your research, Writer Friends? Anything scary/weird/dodgy?

(Oh, and my dad is a Methodist minister, so it’s totally all right that he had this book in his library. Don’t want you all thinking he’s some sort of devil-worshipper. Hi, Dad!)

 

Hurry Up! Now Wait.

Hi, Writer Friends!

As most of you know, I’ve been hip-deep in alligators and line edits. (I’m convinced that term does NOT mean what I thought at first. I had visions of small, piffly, “which word would work better” changes. Not so much, in my case. Eek.) Oh, and I did almost all of those line edits at South Padre Island on vacation with my family. Fun times.

(Actually it was fun. Seriously awesome in fact! Hinky Punky caught a sting ray! Dave took amazing pictures that he will turn into artistic gold! I learned how to line edit BEFORE drinking the pina coladas!)

So, no major blog post. Just this, my author picture.

I look mahvelous, darlings. Ah, the wonders of Photoshop.

Happy Writing , Friends!

The Christmas Newsletter

Merry Christmas! Or, almost. This is that time of year when I trim the tree, bake the cookies, and – being a writer who does actually get paid to do that writerly thing from time to time – ask my husband why in the world he hasn’t written our family Christmas newsletter yet?

Okay, not really. I mean, sure, he has to write the darn thing if he wants one to get written. But me? I don’t really ask him to do it. I don’t care at all. I’m a bit Grinchy about the whole “here’s what we did this year” thing. I love Christmas more than any other holiday, I’m just not a newsletter kind of a gal. Call me lazy, I’m okay with that.

So Dave rallies every year. Yay, Dave! Ho ho ho to you, and an extra candy cane in your stocking. This year’s installment can be found here.

I hope your family’s year has been as fun and joyful as ours. Merry Christmas to you all!