Nikki Loftin

Archive for the ‘People I Love’ Category

Christmas Letter

Merry Christmas Eve, Blog Friends!

It’s cold in Texas today and getting colder — beginning to feel (at last) a bit like Christmas. I got a stocking stuffer this week already — an essay of mine will appear in The Ultimate Christian Living anthology, out next March. Yay! (Of course, Santa may have to work a little harder next year — what I asked for was a book deal)

To all my friends, family, and cyber-stalkers: I hope you all get the gifts you asked for. Here’s a little something to read while you’re wrapped in your blanket/Snuggie/arms of a loved one. Grab some hot cocoa, and have fun reading Nikki’s Christmas Letter (as usual, written by Dave. Thanks, Dave!).

Stay warm, sing carols, and hug everyone you can. Tonight’s Little Baby Jesus Night — it doesn’t get any better than this.

A Christmas Gift for Children’s Book Writers

Ho Ho Ho! Here’s a link to a funny, fun video put together (and performed!) by a phenomenal picture book author, Kim Norman. Her newest book, Crocodaddy, is darling. Did I mention she’s also a critique partner of mine? (Okay, mostly she critiques my sad little picture books. When she sends a manuscript to the group, I have a hard time finding anything to say other than Wowza! I’m learning to live with it.)

Not only does Kim write amazing books, she also sings beautifully (see video), keeps a helpful and informative blog, and gives the best school presentations ever. Seriously, if you need help with those, New Authors, visit her site. She’s got a lot of helpful info up.

So… a role model, I guess you could say. Go watch the video already! Merry Christmas!

Honest: Scrap

My agent-sister, Lisa DesRochers, nominated this blog for an award, the Scrap Heap Award. No, wait. Was it the Honest Crap Award? Something like that. As you may be aware, I refuse to post anything on this blog other than text. In my opinion, I’m one cut and paste away from putting pictures of my six-year-old’s birthday parties or revealing photos of Taylor Lautner in here. (Nobody wants to see those, right? So… you didn’t just click through that link to Mr. Werewolf Hotness? Thought so.) Since the only people who read this thing with any regularity are my parents, husband, and Google strangers, I decided a few months back that discretion is the better part of valor. So, words are it for me.

Still, in the spirit of the thing, to earn my Honest Scrap Award, I will now provide you, Avid Readers, with ten true facts about me. My Meme, as it were.

1. I type with five fingers. Three on one hand, two on the other. This would be heroic if I had lost the others putting out a raging fire in an orphanage or something, but no. I just never learned to type. Thanks, Mom. You were right. I’ll never have to be a secretary now. Great advice, that.

2. One of my first jobs (when I was 11) was to read to a blind woman. She had me read Albert Schweitzer, and she taught me how to pronounce the word pirogue. I thought she was extremely cool, and I had fantasies about being a competent, funny, blind octogenarian myself someday.

3. But I went mostly blind at 13 instead. I wore Coke-bottle glasses for two years, until I was old enough to babysit and earn money for contacs.

4. I was a huge nerd in middle school. My winter coat in eighth grade earned me the nickname: The Fonz.

5. I was NOT a nerd in high school. Armed with my new contacs, some nice clothes, a new set of decent-sized boobs, and a deep, overriding desire to hide my intelligence from everyone, I embarked on my career as a dance team girl. Three years of smiling inanely, and doing the splits every single day.

6. In college, I dated a guy who was, among other things, a pool hustler. Once I had to rescue him from the pool sharks at the UT Student Union, who were offering to break his fingers in exchange for the (nonexistent) money he had bet on a game. This was the first time I ever used an ATM. Probably why I hate ATMs so much: bad memories.

7. I am (sometimes) cheap. I clip coupons, buy my clothes at thrift stores, and send my kids to school in hand-me-downs. But I don’t cheap out on vacations. June? Disneyworld, people. The Polynesian Hotel, concierge level. I’ll be the one with the pina colada, who doesn’t know or care where her kids are.

8. I am a registered Scuba diver (advanced level). Fave dive: Cayman Islands, North Trench. I have no fear of sharks.

9. I was scouted for singing talent in fifth grade (I was Annie in the school musical). I ended up cutting some demos, making hundreds of dollars (which made me feel like Richie Rich for a few weeks), and I can still sing the lyrics of the songs.  (You know you like to eat and drink the sweetest things around. You’ve earned a reputation, for the sweetest tooth in town… Yeah. Classic, mega hits.)

10. The first poem I wrote that was published (in the local paper)  was about the Trojan war. I was 9, and had just read the Odyssey and Edith Hamilton’s Mythology. In honor of my next published poem (coming in December), I will post my first one here. Keep your eyes open, folks.

Hey! That was fun, and cheaper than therapy. And you’re still reading! Thanks, honey.(I’m thinking only my husband got this far, right?)

BTW, I sold another puppet play last week. So, yay!

For Thanksgiving Day : The Summer Day

Someday I’ll have a book published and, right inside the cover, I’ll have an acknowledgments page — a crisp white sheet where I can list the names of the people who have helped me on my writing journey.

Of course, I don’t have that page yet, so this post will have to serve as a practice run. Let me know if I left anything (You? I hope not!) out.

Forever thanks to Dave, Cameron and Drew, who scrape the burned edges off the casseroles at dinnertime when the voices of my narrators speak louder than the timer on the oven. Thanks to my beta readers: John, Rae, Lindsay, Shelli, the Write Girls, ForthWriteSky,Lari, Laura… and the reader-readers, who just read it for fun and because I need to think others can’t wait to see my work: Tom, Katherine, Taryn, Josh, Sam.

Thanks to the agents who said “Almost,” and kept me trying, revising, writing more, better. And thanks to those agents who said  no… so I was free to say yes when the right one came along. Thanks to Suzie for believing in Raymond, and in me.

Thanks to my friends, the ones who walk around in the world and the ones who walk around on pages, inside books that I love.

Thank you to the other writers out there, who spend their lives writing, teaching, and sharing what they know. Thanks to the readers who buy books, read them, pass them along to friends, and support their libraries and independent bookstores.

Thanks to everyone who helped me gather my courage and start living my “one wild and precious life” doing precisely what it is I feel called to do.

Happy Thanksgiving. Here’s a little gift: a link to some peoms by Mary Oliver, who wrote the words I taped up inside my computer desk, the ones I read out loud most days, especially on those days when thankfulness is harder to come by. Enjoy.

Cinderella in New York

I just got back from NYC, from attending the wonderful Backspace conference, meeting my (darling, smart, funny, ambitious) agent, Suzie Townsend, and painting the town my own particular shade of red. (It’s more a fuchsia, really.) The whole experience was so fairy-tale-ish, I couldn’t believe it was me living my life there. It was like being Cinderella for a long weekend. Honestly, all I needed was a glass slipper, and a really nice dress. Come to think of it, maybe I should hit the mall… back to the story.

On Wednesday night, we had drinks, conversation, and amazing steaks at Angelo and Maxie’s with Anuj Singh, a friend from high school. (Thanks, Anuj!) Then Dave disappeared for two days to take pictures of NYC (got the ticker-tape parade for the Yankees World Series win!) while I went to the Backspace Ball. (Um, did I mention I booked the family vacation to Walt Disney World today? I’ll stop with the Cinderella references now. I’m more an Ariel or Mulan type, anyway.)

So… I got to wear my name tag that said Scholarship Winner, and feel all special and fancy and feted (not fetid), and hang out with the fun and funny Lori Walker and Lisa Iriarte (who got more fun/relaxed after she was asked to sign by Colleen Lindsay of Fineprint — yay, Lisa!). We read our queries on Thursday morning, whereupon I learned that one simply does not choose a title for one’s middle-grade humorous novel that evokes the Holocaust for the reader… yeah, I’m changing the title. LOL

I read a different query in the afternoon, for a WIP I had set down for a while, and got a huge response (The Holy Toast, for those of you playing at home). Makes me want to finish it! One novel at a time, grasshopper…. Most of the other MG queries were for MG fantasies, which did not make me want to run home and dust off that finished draft of Perfect Mischief (Boy/Fairy Story) and show it to anyone. The field is just TOO thick for my taste. I’ll wait a while.

The “pages day” was super fun. I LOVE hearing authors read their own work, and I had the  chance to hear a dozen or so take their (nervous, trembling) turns in front of four agents. My heart got big and proud of all of them for having so much courage! Yay Writers! You are brave, and strong, and worthy! Long Live Writers! Now let’s get something to drink!

Of course, I missed a couple of hours of the conference having lunch with Suzie at a great Thai restaurant – YUM! — and checking out the Fineprint offices. You know that scene in Willy Wonka where the contest winners go into the factory? The office is like that, but with books. Suzie smuggled me out two for the airplane ride home that I have (of course) finished — and they are fabulous! If you like Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse series, or anything Katie MacAlister writes, RUN to a bookstore to check out Molly Harper‘s new “Nice Girls” series. Seriously, Nice Girls Don’t Have Fangs had me laughing so hard on the plane, I woke up the guy in front of me at least twice.

There’s so much more to tell, but this post is getting long. I’ll try to post some pics tomorrow, if Dave doesn’t beat me to it.

Thanks to all who made Cinderella’s Ball possible: Dad, Katherine, Mom and John (The Babysitters Back Home). You rock!

Writing About Grandma

Last night, my Grandma fell and broke her ribs. Well, only two of them, but that’s enough when you’re 89. This is the Grandma I keep writing picture books and essays about (that’s her with her stapler in this month’s Skirt! essay). We’re beyond close. She taught me to bake cookies, to hang laundry, to cuss for the pure joy of it.  So of course I spent most of the day with her (she’s with Mom in Austin right now, but she had an appointment that couldn’t be shifted).

On top of the painkillers, Grandma has senile dementia/Alzheimer’s, so most of the day was spent in a very short conversational loop. But I had the chance to read my October essays to her — making your Grandma giggle is like making a baby laugh, pure joy — and watch TV with her between catnaps. You’ve never watched the cooking channel until you’ve watched it with Grandma; she kept muttering “I wish she would wash those vegetables she’s using,” and “She’s not going to rinse that fish?”  and “You’d think a professional would know to tie that long hair back.” (You might want to think about that, Sandra Dee. The health department will ding you for the hair.) Lunch was my homemade cajun ham and bean soup, fresh cornbread, and my dark chocolate walnut cookies. I’m pretty sure it tasted better than whatever that Barefoot Contessa was making. At least Grandma said so.

When she napped, I read the perfect book for a day with Grandma — A Year Down Yonder, by Richard Peck. I laughed, I cried. His Grandma was wonderful and terrible, mischievous, loyal, cussedly mean, and determined to make things right.  It made me wonder how many authors out there are writing picture books and novels about their dear, obstinate, peculiar Grandmas. I know I can’t seem to stop writing about mine.

I Would Like To Thank The Academy…

As Gertrude Stein said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anybody.” So I wanted to take a quick moment to thank all my friends, family, and strangers from the Blogosphere for sending your lovely comments about my essays. THANK YOU!

Here’s a little payback for my writer friends: I discovered a writer blog by an Austin YA author, Brian Yansky. Very inspirational. Check it out! (The connection: I was getting ready to teach my Zumba class last week when one of my members, who knew I was a writer, asked if I knew her brother-in-law. Now I do! Can’t wait to meet him at an Austin SCBWI event. He sounds fascinating!

Now, I’m off to write another 2,000 words or so on a novel — and maybe another essay? I had an idea this morning… right after the dream where the aliens had me trapped in an old Victorian-style house, and they were trying to convince me that I really wouldn’t mind acting as one of their mindless Hosts. It’s amazing how effective my dream dead-bolts were against those aliens…

Story in Boy’s Life!

Okay, I know. Two posts in one day? Excessive.

But I had two pieces of good news today! First, I sold another puppet play to another anthology, this time to a holiday-themed book. It will be out in early 2010. Great, right? But then….

I had a short story accepted by Boy’s Life magazine! This is a 1,000-word story called Facing The Panthers, about a fifth-grade soccer team learning to deal with their fear (abject terror, more like!) of the most notorious team in their League. My favorite part? The riff on the Litany Against Fear from Frank Herbert’s Dune.

My brother Ryan is going to love this one. We memorized that Litany as teens, and used to recite it to each other at appropriate moments. I think the last time was when I called him over to my house (in my single days) to help boil my dishes clean. Ah, good times.

Ten Years Later…

Ten years ago today, I ended the longest day of my life — 23 grueling hours of unmedicated back labor — with a plea for an epidural (which made both my mother and husband burst into tears of gratitude for ending my own suffering and theirs) and a few hours later, the birth of my son, Cameron.

That was when my life as a mother began.. and my dreams of writing were in large part deferred. My kids were never the kind to sleep quietly while I wrote. They mostly screamed, and made enormous, staining messes, and when they got old enough fought with each other. I call this part of my life The Decade of Maternal Bitterness.

But this morning, as I shipped Son Number One and his little brother off on the bus to school (yes, he wanted to ride the bus on his birthday — he got a new DS -i he wants to show off) I realized I owed the entire past year of writing success to him. Not only have I written and published multiple essays about the “joys” of parenting, almost every character that pops into my head for my middle-grade books is based very closely on him. If you’ve read my work, you know this means I have a child similar to Raymond Mahaney running around loose in my house. Pity me.

My mom used to say, “Someday you’ll look back on this and laugh.” It’s true. Writing about Raymond/Cameron, I do laugh, a lot. Now.

But ten years ago, if you said that to me, I would have smacked you with a dirty diaper. Gotta love perspective.

Happy Birthday, Cameron! And thanks for giving me enough material to make a career.

Do Your Characters Pray?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of religion in genre fiction, and more specifically its role in the fiction I write.

I spent most of the last ten years working in churches. I went in a 3/4 time Christian (don’t ask), and came out a 100% God lover who drags her kids to church every Sunday, usually kicking and screaming. I tell them it’s character-building. Check this out: my sweet Hinky-Punky on Sunday. (He’s the one in the front row center, picking his nose.)

I’ll admit, we DO go to one of the most liberal churches in town. (It rocks: Central Presbyterian Church.) For crying out loud, I’m married to a Scottish guy (um, socialized medicine, anyone?), so it had to be Presbyterian and left-leaning.

I’ve written plenty of Christian-ish essays. But now, I’ve noticed the God stuff creeping into my fiction. I wondered if any other writers had the same concerns, and then today I saw this. Anyway, I spent some time editing out some passages that I thought went too in-depth into a character’s mind re: God, even though the views he was espousing were not, um, particularly in line with Christian doctrine. I just thought: Would this passage alienate my kids’ friends? (The atheist ones.) I stopped cutting when I was able to say no.

Maybe someday I’ll go ahead and write that book, the one that weaves God in without worrying about who’s watching… but not today. Comments?