Sat, 20th Feb 2010
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Once more med school prom has come and gone I have the photographic evidence in my nail-polish stained fingers. There needs to be more (semi)formal events in my life so I can indulge my inner princess by wearing pretty, pretty dresses and makeup.
From a mask and makeup test a few weeks ago.
My mother once accused me of living in a made-up world of stories and fairytales. Of course, I found this vastly complimentary, but Mum actually intended it as a criticism of how I dress. I stand convicted. As you might recall, last year Bear and I went as a gangster and moll from the 1930s. This year the med school itself gave me a theme: masquerade ball.
Photos from the night (and the process of getting ready) below the cut.
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Tue, 16th Feb 2010
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New post at Running Roommates!
Don't be fooled; this is not snow. It's ice.
Things I Learned This Past Weekend
- Running on ice works all the small muscle groups in your legs.
- Running on ice when you have one flat foot also causes blisters.
- You should always live with a tall roommate so she can do things like change your lightbulbs for you.
I’ve read MAGIC UNDER GLASS and I’m itching to discuss it, but I shall postpone that blog post for another day when I have more time. Things are picking up around here–good for business, bad for my sanity. Also, this Friday is Masquerade Prom and I have to figure out how I’m going to get ready for it when I have a full work day. Can I curl my hair on the New Jersey Transit, do you think?
Mum is in town and I’ve subjected her to a healthy dose of icky snow. Too bad she couldn’t bring southern Californian sunshine with her. I am so over February. Hell, I’m so over winter it’s not even funny.
Tue, 2nd Feb 2010
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Looking back on some of my blog posts since starting work here at St. Martin’s Press, I’ve become slightly baffled by how much I talk about work. It’s like I have no life, you guys! How horrifying! It’s time I return to a self-centered, narcissistic monologue about my life.
(Not really. Except kind of really.)
Masquerade! Paper faces on parade!
I started this blog long before I was ever in publishing, but slowly and insidiously, the industry has infiltrated my entire existence–including social media. Cap’n Sweet Valley has me tweeting and Facebook-ing as part of my job description (not that I mind) and when I come home, it seems that all I can discuss/think/eat/breathe are books. I used to have hobbies! What happened to them?
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Tue, 15th Dec 2009
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Before we get to business, how about a little rampant narcissism? When I was younger, my mother used to accuse me of dressing like a cartoon character. Well, she’s sort of right–on most days I like to fictionalize myself, and this includes wearing a costume. Some days I like to dress like a flapper, on other days a 30s moll (or Mrs. Coulter). Today, I am feeling a retro/60ish vibe, complete with fishnets and heels.
I'm feeling Mad Men-ish today.
And now business. Question and answer time! Well, sort of. Just one question already asked, to which I have something of a long-ish answer.
If I have a New Adult manuscript, whom do I query for representation?
Boss and I have been actively courting different agencies and agents with our “mission”, as it were, so we’re not operating entirely in the dark. We are trying to get the word out (both online and in person) about us and about a publisher who is actively seeking stories that fall into this “in-between” area of adult fiction.
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Tue, 19th May 2009
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Before anything else, I want to wish my White-Harp a happy 21st birthday! Now she’s legally able to drink (not that age has stopped her before).
Sometimes books make me want to eat whatever the characters are eating. My friend Katranna (and Jo March of LITTLE WOMEN) have both mentioned THE PICKWICK PAPERS by Charles Dickens as a book that makes them hungry. In my case, when I was young, it was the REDWALL series by Brian Jacques, which would delve into the mouthwatering details of deeper’n'ever pie, otter hotroot’n’shrimp soup, and other culinary creations that made my indifferent-to-everything-but-bad-food mouth salivate with cravings.
Such was not the case of Laurie Halse Anderson’s WINTERGIRLS. WINTERGIRLS practically made me go out and eat a few doughnuts (and I don’t even like doughnuts) out of obligation.
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