The First Critique -- Jay

First off, an apology. Awhile back I told you I’d finished the YA manuscript I’d been working on for three years and was handing it over to Robin and Eve for a critique in a few days. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was way too freaked out that they wouldn’t like it, that they’d say, “You spent three years on this?”

So I decided to self-edit one more time and I printed out all 246 pages and attacked it with a red pen. Why? Pure fear. So many people will be disappointed if this book sucks. First, I would disappoint the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (and who wants to disappoint an entire society?). BAKER’S DOZEN was awarded one of their Work-In-Progress grants. Second, I would disappoint SmartWriters.com. They awarded this manuscript the Grand Prize in their Write-It-Now competition. The judge for their YA category was Chris Crutcher…the first YA author I’d ever read! Was I willing to disappoint the author who turned me on to this genre in the first place? Third, I would disappoint my wife. Do you realize how many times I got out of laundry duty, or watering the plants, because I pretended to be in the middle of a plot-breakthrough?

So after that last edit, did I hand it over to Robin and Eve then? Absolutely not. I went through the entire manuscript once again. And then? Well, Eve was on the other side of the country, so last Sunday night I finally gave the manuscript to Robin. She read it in two-and-a-half days, which I took as a good sign, and I went over to her house to find out what she thought (I even brought Papa Murphy’s Pizza to butter her up). Immediately, I knew something was wrong. She kept delaying the critique. “Oh, my three-year-old needs a bath.” “Oh, the pizza’s ready.” “Oh, wanna see how we’re converting vegetable oil into fuel for the car?”

But she loved it! She even cried! I made Robin cry and I am so flippin’ happy! Why was she so afraid to tell me what she thought? Because six of the pages didn’t work for her. Six pages! “So what?!?!” I said. “97.56% of it did work for you.” So we brainstormed and figured out how to fix it and I’m just about done working through the changes. I should have the new and improved manuscript ready for Eve sometime this weekend.

Seriously. No, seriously, I promise. I will!

- Jay

The Countdown Continues

Only a few more days till we begin cracking the codes buried within some of the most beloved books for children.

The daVinci Code? What’s that?

I Have Foot-In-Mouth Disease -- Robin

In order to support my addictive writing habit, I am applying for a new job. Hopefully with lots of money and a boss who doesn’t notice that I take little breaks and write little stories.

Yesterday, I had an interview. It was a brutal hour and a half. That might explain why my brain fell out at the end. I could sense it coming to a conclusion. She spoke of contacting me next week and checking my references. My body started to relax, which is exactly the moment my foot inserted itself into my mouth. (Ouch! I’m a size 9)

He said, “Let me ask you one more question, Robin. Who is your hero? What person do you admire the most and why?”

First of all, it’s a stupid question. And second of all, some people don’t like Oprah. Which would have been a better answer than what I said.

“Bob Marley,” I said. I had just finished listening to his Confrontation album (which is my fave). I rambled on about how he made such positive social change and spread a spiritual message throughout the world. Not bad.

Now for the foot.

“But it’s not like I’m promoting the smoking of ganja, or anything.” That got a chuckle from the dude across from me in a Hawaiian shirt.

Later, I emailed my supportive friends, Eve and Jay, to tell them of my interesting choice of words. My phone rang, and when I said “Hello,” I heard Jay say, “You said ganja...in an interview!”

Thanks, my friend. I knew you’d understand.

Since I’m sure I didn’t get the job, I’ll be busy plucking my foot from my mouth so I can get back to the business of writing. As of today, my main character loves Bob Marley too.

- Robin

The Countdown Has Begun

Next week, we'll crack the code on the most baffling mystery in the history of children’s literature.

It’ll make the entire publishing world say, “Dan Brown? Who’s that?”

Makes Me Wanna Drink -- Jay

It happened again. I ran into someone I haven’t seen in years and one of the first questions he asked was, “So, where ya working now?” And I forgot my line.

I’m supposed to say, “I work at the public library.” Instead, I left out the key word...public. In most towns, that’s not a problem. But in my town, the follow up statement goes something like, “Oh. I didn’t know you were a bartender.”

You see, there’s a bar here called The Library. And what should be a source of pride—I work at the library!—is always followed by a shot of reality. “No, I work at the public library,” I say. To which they respond, “They still have those?”

I guess the owners of the 21-and-over Library wanted to give their patrons an honest excuse when their parents (those paying the college tuition) ask why they couldn’t reach their sons or daughters the night before. “I’m sorry, I was at The Library all night. Could you please talk a little softer?”

I just want to be able to say, “I work at the library,” and hear someone respond, “Wow! I’ve wanted to work there since I was a kid. You are so lucky!”

Maybe I’m wrong—I don’t know the names of the bars where you’re from—but I don’t think it’s like this for other public employees.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were a bartender.”

— “No, I work at the public defenders office.”

— “No, I work at the public health department.”

— “No, I work at the public utilities commission.”

Time For My Annual Review -- Robin

I get an annual review at work every year, but after recently sitting down behind the glass (as we worker bees like to refer the only non-cubicle areas of the office) I realized...as a writer I don’t ever get an annual review from a boss telling me how I’ve done.

So, here it is. I’m giving myself a review. Just so you know, the role of “me” and “the boss of me” is played by...me.

Boss of Me: Come, sit down, Robin. Let’s talk about your year of writing. No...don’t sit there. I need to see the clock. And shut the door, would ya?

Me: Sure. So, how’s my review? Is it bad?

Boss of Me: Bad!? Bad!? We don’t use that term around here. We like to use “needs improvement and bound for the slushpile.” But let’s get right to it. I’ve written it all out on this paper, but I’m going to read it to you anyway as if you are a monkey. M’kay?

Me: (Sitting silently, picking at my hair with my feet.)

Boss of Me: Let’s see. You’ve met our expectation of coming up with story ideas and submitting them to contests and editors. But you seem to have fallen behind on requirement #3: Finishing a story. Do you have any suggestions on how you can meet that goal?

Me: Well, maybe if I didn’t have so much paperwork and bureaucratic mumbo jumbo I had to wade through...

Boss of Me: There is no paperwork or mumbo jumbo in this job.

Me: Maybe if I didn’t have to answer the phones so much and put my laundry in the dryer and eat all that chocolate and supervise the programming on the Home and Garden channel...I could get my work done.

Boss of Me: Look, you finish a book and I’ll personally see to it that I supervise the programming on the Playboy channel for you.

Me: Home and Garden channel.

Boss of Me: Right, that’s what I said.

Me: So do I get a raise?

Boss of Me: Here, have a piece of chocolate.

Me: (Smiling, picking at my hair with my feet.)

Boss of Me: And pay a little more attention to the dress code. No more sweats and bunny slippers. This is a respectable trash heap in the corner of your second bedroom.

Me: M’kay.