Nikki Loftin

Archive for the ‘Miscellaneous’ Category

My New Favorite Song

Happy Sunday, Writer Friends! I found this amazing video on Kiersten White’s fabulous blog. I couldn’t resist re-posting it here. Enjoy!

My Spring: Houston Conferences

Hiya Peeps! I’m packing this morning for the annual Houston SCBWI conference. This was my very first conference as a kidlit writer two years ago – ah, the stories I could tell of that first year! *

I should say, the stories I *will* tell. I’ve been spending some quality time this week preparing my presentation for another Houston conference, the Houston Writer’s Guild one on May 7th. I will present on “Cracking the Children’s/YA Market.”

So, should I take eggs for my visual aid? And crack them on people’s heads? *runs off to buy cascarones*

No, no. I was thinking of a Powerpoint, something more along the lines of this. That would keep your attention, wouldn’t it?

Oooh! Oooh! I have great news!!! I just got a lovely acceptance email from the editor of Flash Fiction Online. (If you don’t read this, you must! Pop on over and sign up for their monthly email. They have some of the most wonderful stories.) I feel so happy – this will be my first piece of flash fiction published, and it’s (covertly) a YA piece.

I hope you all have as much Writerly Goodness in store! Write well, and quickly, and crack a cascarone on your own head every once in a while – surefire cure for writer’s block!

Note: Check out Mon Agent Extraordinaire over in Chuck Sambuchino’s Guide to Literary Agents. Isn’t she delightful?

* Embarrassing, humiliating stories. No, really, I love this one – all those talented, funny Houston writers, like Lynne Kelly and Jenny Moss.  Can’t wait!

The Real Audience

Oh, Writer Friends, I have been thinking Very Deep Thoughts these last few days. Thoughts about childhood, and why I write, and who my real audience is. Is it because it’s spring, and the does are dropping their fawns in the field by my house? Does it have something to do with the oak pollen sifting down from the live oaks on the hill, salting everything until the whole world glitters, saffron and gold?

Maybe I’ve been reading too much poetry.

Maybe it’s because a few people* have expressed some concern that my current dark manuscripts might be a bit dark, a bit disturbing. So I’ve been thinking of my childhood, and the books I treasured, and trying to picture who I’m writing for – and (except for my eldest son, who is my intended audience for most everything I write), the child I see reading my books when I close my eyes to picture it… is me. Me at nine, or ten. Skinny, smaller than the rest of my class, younger by two years, a big bobble-head full of thoughts of books. I memorized pages of Emily Dickinson when I was eight.  I was strange, but the books didn’t care. I loved them all: funny, scary, dark, sweet.

Honestly? I didn’t care for the sweet ones quite as much.

Maybe this train of thought was brought on by my most recent piece of happy news – the envelope that arrived form Pockets magazine, complete with its lovely, postcard-sized contract informing me they would like to publish my short story, The Class Oatmeal, this August. When I saw the acceptance letter, I flashed back to my childhood – all those hours spent sitting in Methodist churches, bored to tears, my book already finished. Waiting for my dad (the pastor) to finish his meeting/funeral/phone call/sermon, I would read the ever-present issues of Pockets over and over.

It’s nice to have a story there. I’m pleased. I used my less-than-1,000 words to spread the Gospel a little bit more, as unobtrusively as I could! I know those friends who are worried over my recent forays into the scary stuff (middle-grade scary, not true horror) will love this short story, will approve of it.

But I wonder why they can’t see the glittering message –  the one I believe lies at the heart of all I write, that same good news of hope, grace, possible salvation, even — in the darker works? It’s not as glaring, I know. Maybe it’s hidden for some by the humor and the tension. But to me it’s as apparent as the oak pollen on the wrought-iron chair by my door, sparkling every time the sun peeks out.

I think I would have seen it, as a kid. I write everything for the little girl I was, trying however I can to reach her – and, I suppose, all the other children who sit and wait for a story that can save them.

Who is your audience, Friends? And does spring ever make you melancholy?

Now, I’m off to work on a very sad, somewhat dark middle-grade fairy-tale-based novel that’s more magical than real — and as authentic as anything I’ve ever tried to write. I’m actually kind of scared of this one. The perfect novel for my current mood.

* If you’re reading this, it wasn’t you.

Happy World Poetry Day!

Happy Day, Writer Friends! I hope you’re all working on fabulous manuscripts, or revising glorious poems, or at least eating good, dark Swiss chocolate — something, anything writerly — to start off your week.

As it is World Poetry Day, I would like to share a poem by one of my favorites, Mary Oliver. I bought her New and Selected Poems: Volume One (now there’s a memorable title for you) in New York last week, and I’ve been reading it every night.

“How does she know?” I keep wondering. How does she find the words for that desire that’s been pulling at me for days, months, years? Poets are my superheroes.

What is it Robert Frost said? Anyone can get themselves into a poem, but it takes a poet to get out of one. Something like that.

Enjoy.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver. Online Source

Characters as Friends

Well, I didn’t know it until just now, but today is World Read Aloud Day! If you didn’t know about this, click on this link for LitWorld and you can read all about it.

I read aloud to my boys (ages 8 and 11) pretty much every day. Yes, yes, I know they’re plenty old to read to themselves, but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m not a Monopoly Mom, and the lure of Battleship waned long ago. But reading? That’s something we can all do together that never gets old. Recently, we’ve been working our way through (on different nights) Tony DiTerlizzi’s The Search for Wondla, and the final book of the Gregor the Overlander series by Suzanne Collins. (We’re all a little worried about what that horrible author might do to our beloved Temp, or Gregor, or Boots, or their MOM for crying out loud! Ms. Collins has a nasty tendency to kill off characters we’ve grown fond of. My 8 y.o. will stop sometimes and very gravely announce that if “Temp dies, I’m going to pay a visit to that stinking author.” Brrr.)

Last night, Younger Son asked me very seriously “why Gregor was poor.” We had a long talk about it, but I ended up with a question for him. “You do know this is a story, right? That Gregor isn’t a real person, walking around, riding on bats. Right?” He said of course not, but the look in his eyes… it was plain he thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Honestly, I probably don’t. Gregor and his friends are more real to my son than many of his relatives, I would imagine. He’s spent more time with Gregor than with some of his school friends, he’s cried for him, and laughed at his mischief. I know Gregor will stay alive in my son’s mind until he’s my age or older.

And why not? I still remember racing my way through Pippi’s adventures, then trying to get even closer to her by sleeping upside down in my bed. I remember dreaming about breadfruit, and — strangely, all these years later — I find myself writing about a character named Annika, and thinking about that other Annika who was my very proper friend when I was 8. Pippi is still more real to me than the kids I went to elementary school with, those interchangeable faces on the fading class photograph. Were they real? I can’t remember. Not like I remember Pippi.

So, this week, read aloud. Read to your kids, or your husband, or volunteer at a children’s shelter and read to those kiddos. Or read aloud to yourself — maybe a favorite childhood book?

Unexpected Reading Jag

Uh, oh, Friends. I finished the draft of The Dark House, threw the confetti, edited it once, sent it off to a couple of Lovely Writer Friends to read… and completely forgot about the Post-Draft Reading Jag.

Oh, man. I’ve been reading at least a book a day this week. My eyes sort of hurt from it. But it’s a good hurt.

Also, my stomach hurts – but that’s from laughing. If you’ve never heard of it*, RUN right over to Chuck Wendig’s blog and read ANYTHING he’s written. I’ve decided to completely give up dispensing any sort of writing advice, and just refer people to him now. For one thing, his advice is great, and hilariously well-written. For another thing, I’ll scare off any Writer Friends who don’t have their big-girl panties on. Speaking of knickers, I particularly like this post on Pantsers vs. Plotters, and this one on How Not to Starve and Die as a Writer. Could not stop laughing on that one.

Disclaimer: I didn’t find Chuck Wendig by calling Madame Chloe. I found his blog by way of the Friday YA Highway Round-up, the VERY first website I check out on Fridays when I’m supposed to be, um, writing. Oh, yeah.

News: The children’s short story I wrote is up on Literature4Kids this month!

More News: Run over to Jo Whittemore’s blog and congratulate her on selling D in Drama. Time for champagne, Jo!

Even More News: I’m going to new York next Thursday! More on that trip later…

Have a great weekend, Writer Friends!

* And if you are NOT easily offended by seriously soap/mouth language and slightly-too-frequent-for-comfort references to cannibalism.

Dear Teen Nikki Today!

Well, Writer Friends, if you’ve been waiting for Nikki Overshare 2011 (re: my life as a hideously socially deformed teenager), your big day is here! Go and check out my post on the Dear Teen me blog, the uber-cool e-lovechild of Authors Miranda Kenneally and E. Kristin Anderson. I’m simultaneously horrified at having my history and middle school yearbook pictures exposed for all to see, and pleased at having been invited to participate.

Believe it or not, earlier drafts of this letter were much, much more explicit. I named even more names, and delved deeper into my teen-age angst at my lack of boobs.

I think I have to go eat an embarrassing amount of chocolate now.

What Do You Love?

Happy Valentine’s Day, Writer Friends!

I spent the morning surrounded by the boys I love most in the world, boys who gave me Lindt chocolate bars (thus proving their love for me), and now I’m spending the rest of it doing that thing I most love to do: Writing.

While eating chocolate, of course.

Just like I hope all of you will find someone who loves you like my sweet Valentine husband loves me – I hope you love your work as much as I do. Even on those frustrating, unproductive writing days, the work I have to do thrills me way down deep.

Does your writing give you a sense of purpose? Of connection? Of pride? Does it fill your dreams and your daydreams? Do you love it, truly, deeply?

I hope so, Friends. This Valentine’s Day, my wish for you is this: Do what you love. Love what you do. And eat as much chocolate as you need to to see you through the rough patches! xoxox

Interesting Link Re: Loving a Writer. Check it out!

Austin: You Want to Live Here

Hi, y’all! Most of you know I’m a native Texan – but you may not know I’ve lived my whole life right around Austin. (I would say “in Austin,” but I’ve been a resident of Manchaca, Austin, Round Rock, San Marcos, Wimberley, and kinda sorta Dripping Springs. But close enough.) So I know a lot about this town.
Like where to go country dancing: the Broken Spoke and/or Gruene Hall.

Where to eat barbecue: The Salt Lick.

Where to eat sushi: Uchi.

And where, hands down, to shop for books?

That would be Bookpeople, the indie bookstore where I met my husband. The very same bookstore that hosted Cynthia Leitich Smith and Mari Mancusi’s book launches this weekend, that hosts the monthly SCBWI meetings, that has the most amazing staff… I could go on. Indie bookstores rock.

But the trick is, they don’t rock for long, if we don’t support them with our money. So, doing my part to show my indie love, I bought a few nice new titles at Bookpeople* this weekend. (BLESSED by Cyn, naturally, and — I tried but OMG I could not believe  it they didn’t have it so I ordered one! — Allison Pang’s A BRUSH OF DARKNESS which looks oh-so-juicy and good.)

I have a manuscript to finish, however, and another to critique, and children who insist on being fed, etc. So I will resist the temptation to read all these lovelies. I will resist…

What are you reading, Friends? And do you have a lovely indie bookstore that you support? Tell me which one!

*Of course, I’m such a book junkie that I then bought Beth Revis’ ACROSS THE UNIVERSE at Costco. But only because it was the last copy they had. And I JUST could not resist – the cheesecake samples had some sort of mind-control thing in them, I swear.)

Backspace Contest is Back!

Hiya, peeps! I’m taking a short break from the busiest week EVER to point you in the direction of the Backspace Writer’s Conference in NYC. This conference was amazing – possibly the best one I’ve ever attended, and you know I’m a bit of a conference junkie. I was one of the winners of the query/pages contest two years ago, and met my lovely agent Suzie T. that way.

The contest went away for a year, but it’s back this spring! So, go here to see the deets on the contest. Do yourself a favor – try for this one. It’s kind of a game-changer, as I can attest.

Now, back to my overly hectic life. I’m actually breathing into a (metaphorical, but maybe soon-to-be literal) paper bag this week* to keep on my feet, so send up positive thoughts, please.

*Not a writing-related paper bag. More or less just Other Life Stuff.

Now go write something fabulous, Friends. Like an award-winning query. Hint, hint.