How To Rescue Baby Ducks

It started with something like this. I didn’t get a photo of the mama duck so I had to take one from the Internet. (Thanks Internet!) As I approached the entrance to my three-story office building and saw a mama duck who was VERY upset. I looked down into the  “terrace” (what amounts to a 10-foot deep dry moat kind of thing that wraps around part of the building) and I saw nine baby ducks with no way for the mama to lead them out of the pit toward food, water, and whatever else they require.

I called the Humane Society who transferred me to a water fowl rehab-ber. She said, “You’ll have to go down there put the babies in a box, and then bring them to me.”

“What about the mom,” I asked.

“I doubt you’ll be able to capture her.”

I called Josh to help. He grumbled something about survival of the fittest and what a dumb duck to build a nest in a pit. I said something like, “Don’t make me tell Eleanor on you!” Suddenly Josh had arrived to help. Then another guy who was in his office watching, decided to help, too. That’s me looking down and directing them. Baby ducks are skedaddlers! I had to say things like, “Quick!  It went that way!” I was helpful.

They could only get six of the nine babies.

They’re cute and all, right? But you’re still worried about the other three babies and the mama, aren’t you?  Well, it’s okay because the Humane Society ended up coming out with a net and getting them all!  Including the mama. They were taken to be released somewhere else and live happily ever after. We can only hope that mama duck won’t return to nest in the same place next year!

Are You an Adder or Subtracter?

I’ve noticed this: whenever I find myself looking for a way to change/improve on something, I add something into my life. If I want to lose weight, I add exercise because giving up peanut butter, mint M&M’s and bacon makes me sad. If I want to be a better YA writer, I tend to add learning/research/networking to my agenda instead of say, trimming back those things to focus on practicing. If I’m sad, I add people to my presence. Same when I’m angry – sorry, family! I need to vent.  But, I know many people want to be alone in those circumstances.

I’m not sure why I’m this way, but I found it fascinating. Which one are you? Maybe it goes in waves: add, add, add, whoa, subtract. Maybe it’s ping-pongy: add, subtract, add, subtract. Maybe you don’t really care and this is a lot like a magazine quiz. Hey, let’s do a poll!

Results:

If you chose Adder, you’ll end up living in a Mansion, having 2 kids with Johnny Depp, and driving a hybrid to your film-directing job.

If you chose Subtracter, you’ll end up living in a Shack, having 20 kids with Steve Buschemi, and driving a Rascal to your poo-scooping job.

If you chose “It goes in waves,” you’ll end up in a Mansion, having 2 kids with Johnny Depp, and driving a hybrid to your poo-scooping job.

If you chose “Ping Pongy,” you’ll end up in Mansion, having 20 kids with Johnny Depp, and driving a Rascal to your film-directing job.

If you chose “Jody is nice,” you’ll end up in Indianapolis having crepes I baked for you; and then we’ll tell secrets and braid each other’s hair. And watch Goonies and Karate Kid.

The Goodbyes Begin

The moving date is set. June 4th. Of course, if I get a job soon, then I’ll move down ahead of the rest of the family. But having an official date makes me nostalgic.

Two Sundays ago I said goodbye to my Ann Arbor critique group. We’ve been working together for I want to say four years. Is that right? (Why am I so horrible with keeping track of time?) We were all newbies to the game of YA writing and publishing when we began and in some ways it’s been the blind leading the blind. But looking back, I can see a lot of growth over the years, both in relationships and writing skill. In a very real sense, I couldn’t have had the success I’ve had without their help. And in some ways it’s been my church. I often forget that people aren’t as interested in talking about the craft of writing as I am. On good days, I hold my tongue with general public. Did you ever see Anne of Green Gables? Poor Anne, she is so talkative! Always getting scolded for not holding her tongue. There’s a scene in the movie where she confesses to Myrilla, (whom she so badly hopes will adopt her) that she knows – she really knows – how irritating her talking is, but “if you only knew how much I really wanted to say but didn’t!” And oh, have I felt that way about writing. And my critique group has been my sanctuary for saying anything and everything I want to say about the thrilling/exhausting/heart-breaking/ball-busting/insane business of trying to publish. I will miss you all.

Josh has also begun saying goodbye, and wrote a beautiful last post to his blog. Thanks, Josh. I took a quick look back over some of the posts and it was fun to remember things like showing the girls the fairy doors in Ann Arbor. They never believed in Santa, but BY GOD the fairies in Ann Arbor are REAL! There was also the day the Eleanor was interviewed by the Humane Society for starting Vegetarian Wednesday with Josh. She’s now become a full-time vegetarian. I got to remember seeing the Dalai Lama speak. There’s so much more obviously, but I’d forgotten about those. It’s been a long chapter for Josh and the kids and I, and I’m sure I’ve said it before, but this is the longest we’ve lived somewhere together. To read about some of the good times was nice.

Now, I’m off to get ready for an interview. When they ask me what my weakness are, I think I’m going to say, “Well, every time I see sweet potatoes on the menu, I order them. That and carrot cake.”  What is it with the orange veggies? Love ’em!

Self-Deprecating Sunday (22)

In which the YA author showcases the great and awkward of the teenage years.

Today I give you a photo that isn’t as self-deprecating as usual (more great than awkward), but one that is close to my heart for the date in which it represents. Never mind that I’m wearing oddly-patterned stirrup pants. (Luckily I pulled my socks up over the stirrups.) Never mind that Matt gets completely lost in the photo if you’re not putting the effort in to see a dim outline of his sweater. And never mind that the photographer posed us in such a way that I actually look like I’m twiddling my thumbs and Matt is pointing it out. Because no, this was a great date. A rarity in high school.

I barely remember anything about the plot. I know there was a dance at his school and I know he showed me some of his artwork, which was impressive in a way that went way beyond the fact that I intended to flatter him anyways because I liked him.  He could paint. I know there was kissing; I definitely remember he showed me how to do it well. (We all have one of those, right? Where you’re like, ohhhhhhhh, that’s how kissing is supposed to be!) Mostly what I remember is his character. Totally gentlemanly. He was kind and attentive. If he was nervous, he hid it well. He didn’t mind that I was completely nervous and it showed all over me. Oh nervous girl that was me in high school, I wish I could tell you to just relax! But thank you, Matt, for your kindness. That will always stay with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better first boyfriend.

There will be more YA author guest posts coming in the near future. And as always, if you’re a YA author, and wish to be featured over here for self-deprecating Sunday, then please contact me at jody(dot)mugele(at)gmail(dot)com It’s more fun than church.

Why Don’t I Have Issues With Privacy?

I’ve been reading about some YA authors who are leaving Facebook for a variety of reasons. I’m not going to argue about why one should or shouldn’t do so. This post is not a rant (I don’t think).

It seems that the new privacy changes have at least something to do with people’s decision to leave. And whenever people talk about privacy and Facebook, I generally glaze over and update my status to something having to do with business socks or cocaine. Just kidding. But the truth is, I just don’t have issues with privacy. I really don’t care if you know my kids names, think I talk too much about being published, wince when I curse, know when I’m feeling insecure, etc. Sure, I draw some lines on what to share. I guess that’s all the control I need. I’ve never really needed much control. I wasn’t a gunner in school. I let my husband make most of the financial decisions, and if my kids have a solid reason for why they should miss their bedtime, then fine, stay up. In six years, I’ve never locked my front door.

So why don’t I have privacy issues? (1) Maybe it’s because I’m on the unpublished side of PUBLICATION. It’s like there’s the PUBLICATION fence. One side is Published. The other is Unpublished. Maybe if I were published and had a wider readership, then I’d care more about privacy. Further, since I’m not published, I’m still getting to know the business and those within it. Social Media is a wonderful way to do that. But, I really don’t think being published will change my non-issue. (I can only hope that someday I’ll find out.) I think it’s just my nature to be open and have that “whatever” attitude. (2) Maybe my lack of issues are because I just like attention. And people. People really fascinate me. Probably this is why I like to write, you know, about people. I like conversation about what’s on TV, I like seeing family photos, and I don’t mind silencing the yappers who are all Jesus-y and political. That’s everywhere, and worse when it’s in person. I LOVE being able to turn people off of my screen.

I mean, it’s called Facebook. It’s about making yourself public. It seems to me that the potential to make money and market yourself (to readers/potential readers) is equal to the potential of Facebook doing the same with any information I provide. I guess you could argue that marketing gets confused with relationship, but that’s getting a little full of ourselves, isn’t it? To me, a Facebook friendship is just a connection. What you do with the connection makes for a relationship.

Writing Cover Letters

Trying to get a job kinda feel like this. I actually don’t mind the process so much. Mostly, I like myself and think I’m a good worker. I like people. And talking. But I haven’t done phone interviews in a while, so I forgot about the  canned questions like, what are you good at and what do you need to work on? Sooooooo hard to take seriously sometimes. Don’t you ever want to say, “I’m good at smiling and 80’s movie trivia, but I should probably work on my dog grooming and Yoda impersonation.” I’d totally hire me.

But, I’m an expert cover letter writer. People should pay me for that! When I got my job at the Orthodontist’s office, the ad said they wanted someone with a sense of humor. I was substitute teaching at the time and I remember actually having to tell a freshman boy, “Evan, you need to stop following around everything in a skirt.” I told the orthodontist in my cover letter that I’d like a job where I didn’t have to say things like that. I don’t know how this worked; it was like I just had this intuition about that job. Some of the best friends I’ve ever had, I met at that job. Doc, Catherine, Laura: I’m gonna miss the CRAP out of you guys when I move!

Here’s a cover letter that didn’t work, though. I recently applied for a job as an optician. I started the cover letter, “My glasses are my favorite accessory.” This is completely true. And I love me some accessories. I rarely go without a headscarf and pin. It turns out that an optician actually needs to have experience with eyes. The office wrote me back and said something like, “Your cover letter was interesting, and I’m sure you’ll make a great young adult author, but we won’t be pursuing your candidacy since you have no experience as an optician.”

Huh.

If you’re a writer who has ever sent a cover letter, query, or synopsis to an agent or an editor in hopes that they would tell you that your writing is great, then you know how hilarious this is. All those years I’d been writing to the wrong people. Next time I need (glasses or) a compliment about my writing skills, I’m headed to the Optometrist!

Self-Deprecating Sunday (21) Christy Raedeke

Sometimes you get to know someone because their blog makes for excellent reading. That’s how I got to know Christy. Juvenescence is a great author blog. Before I even knew what her book, The Prophecy of Days, was about, I was like, I’m definitely reading that book. THEN one of my friends goes, “Did you know her book has a monkey in it? And the monkey’s name is Dr. Papers? And he communicates through origami?” And then, I was like, you had me at ‘monkey.’ AND THEN, I asked her if she’d guest post here on the blog, and she became one of my favorite authors ever, because of this:

Self Deprecating Sunday – The Young Adult Author as an Actual Young Adult

Christy Raedeke

I’m not a master of prose. I don’t write beautiful, flowery language or enrich my text with layers and layers of meaning. What I bring to book writing is the weaving together of disparate concepts, creating mash-ups with little regard for time, place, context, or physics. To illustrate this here on Jody’s Self-Disparaging Sunday, I bring you two photos linked by the word Camel.

Exhibit A – A Camel Ride

Here I am, actually riding a camel. I’m sporting a Toni home perm, Frost ’n Tip “highlights”, and the deep tan you can only get by mixing a prescription of tetracycline with baby oil on a 104 degree Southern Oregon day. Seriously, we used to pick at our faces until they were welted and then go to the doctor to try to score an Rx of tetracycline (used back then to clear up acne). This antibiotic makes you freakishly sensitive to the sun, which would mean in today’s world you’d reach for the SPF 80 and a wide-brimmed hat. In 1983 you reached for the baby oil and a foil reflector. And then you’d crank up the Loverboy. Natch.

I have no idea where this was taken (you think I’d remember a camel ride!) but the small white shorts, preppy button down, and Tretorns date this to precisely to 1982, sophomore year.

Exhibit B – Another Camel Ride

Not only was I a giant among my peers (check out those tiny teens next to me) I was a giant among camel toes. I swear to you if my ski pole did not hide a portion of the situation, this photo would be banned in several states – it was that epic. In my feeble teen mind ski pants were too “conventional” and I was not going to wear them even on race day, cuz in 1983 jeans are soooo much cooler to ski in. Plus, when you want to rock the biggest camel toe known to man, nothing short of acid wash denim will do. Had I fallen at race speed they would’ve had to chopper me out for a medical San Francisco Riding Gear extraction.

Other key features of this early 80s shot are gloves so big they mimic elephantiasis, giant (fake) red Vuarnets, and bangs curled precisely to the circumference of breakfast sausage.

Christy, I owe you one. This made my day. And my blog thanks you with all it’s heart. Readers, make sure to pre-order Christy’s book, The Prophecy of Days: The Daykeeper’s Grimoire. It’s official release date is May 2010, from Flux.

If you’re a YA writer and wish to be featured on Self-Deprecating Sunday, please contact me at jody(dot)mugele(at)gmail(dot)com.

Let’s Talk About Sex (Ed)

I have a twleve-year-old going through Sex Ed right now at a public school. Also, I like to write books for teens, so for me, the sexual habits of teenagers are as thoroughly fascinating as they are concerning. In books for teens it’s almost unrealistic not to at least mention the subject. What’s interesting to me is that the way the subject is being handled in books is more honest, more healthy, and helpful to teens than what they’re getting in class (at least, my kiddo’s class).

What’s in YA books: Everything. But, in the books I read the sex means something to the development of the character. Over the few years I’ve been writing, I’ve seen more sex scenes and themes than I thought I would. I think this is great. I want my kids to read them. (I want my kids to read ALL books) I have a sex scene in my book (Oh help me when/if my parents read it), which I figured would get cut somewhere along the revision process, though I hope it wouldn’t. It hasn’t yet, but there’s still time. I have solid reasoning for having in there that I’ve been prepared to voice, if questioned. I don’t want to give specifics here on the blog because that would be spoilery. So, let’s say it’s pretty important to character  development. It’s one of the things in life that separate the men from the boys, if you will. And in YA literature, isn’t that the central struggle of any book? The blurry area of kid-ness vs. adult-ness. One of the things I appreciate so much about YA is that when a character in a book (and hopefully one that the reader is rooting for) goes through growth and change because of sexual relationship, it can shape the reader’s ideas about sex. And, we’re all just so damn curious about it at that age!  If done well, the character will have consequences for their sexual actions, whether it be sex is pretty awesome or we should’ve used protection, or so this is (or isn’t) love, or whatever. My point is that the reading experience is far more informative and meaningful than class.

What’s in class: Abstinence. (and other people) My daughter brought home a paper we had to sign that acknowledged the school stance on sex. Josh signed it alright, and included a few words about how unrealistic it is to think teaching abstinence will be effective. Day one, Eleanor came home and was surprised and irritated that she was the only one brave enough to ask questions (Go, Eleanor! Proud parent right here.) The next day she came home scared of AIDS and asking how many people Josh and I had slept with before we got married. (I told her, btw.) I’m not bothered that she was scared of AIDS, because everyone should be. But the school’s answer to AIDS is abstinence. So, I was left to inform her that I wasn’t ashamed of or scared to have sex with people who hadn’t become my husband, because I’d used protection. Thanks, public school. The third day she came home and said, “I asked my teacher how we were supposed to have babies if we never had sex?” The teacher replied that he was teaching abstinence because that’s what the school had told him to teach. (That’s Eleanor’s paraphrasing) And Eleanor concluded (right or wrong) that he probably didn’t believe what he was teaching. Now, I’m thrilled my kiddo is asking questions at home and at school, but I KNOW she’s in the minority. And even with her asking all the questions, I hope she’ll explore the issue in her reading, where it’s safe and she can’t get AIDS.

Something to Do with Garden Gnomes

I’m not sure if “Bagni” is a village or a bathhouse or what, but I think it looks like a fun place to go. Garden gnomes are one of the oddities in life I love. What are they doing in gardens? It’s like pairing combat boots with a wedding gown. Even before I saw Amalie, I had a fascination with them. I even wrote a political satire including garden gnomes that I pitched as a picture book (that didn’t go over, but the idea was great.)  It turns out I’m more of a young adult novelist. One of the things I love about life that you can’t (Or at least I haven’t successfully yet) replicate in writing are those funny random moments – those bits and scenes that seem to come out of nowhere, not fit with the mood, or maybe your schedule. Things in writing have to mean something. Wasn’t it Chekhov that told us not to put a gun on fireplace mantle if no one in the book is going to use it?

So, I guess I’m left to blog about those times. For instance, Spanky. I tweeted about him not long ago. He’s an old guy that works on the second floor of our building. I’m on the third floor. Every day, I go down to the terrace to get the mail, so I often see the old man, with his false teeth smile and idle chit chat. We have time for a greeting and about one sentence, normally something to with what I’m wearing or the weather. One time he said it looked nice outside (Truly an amazing thing in March in Ann Arbor). I said, “I heard it’s going to rain.” He gasped and said, “No! If it rains, I’m going to spank you.” Hence, his nickname.

There’s another lady in the building, middle-aged, calm, and friendly. This is particularly interesting to me because it’s been my experience that many middle-aged women in the business world are the exact opposite. Perhaps this makes me an ageist and/or a sexist; I’m not sure, but it’s what I’ve observed. So this lady and I were walking out of the building at the same time once when we both spotted a post-it note on the ground. She took the lead and picked it up. It said nothing of significance. She gave me an “Is it yours?” gesture. I shrugged and shook my head. She tossed it back onto the cement. There was a pause. She looked back at me and said, “I really don’t know why I did that.” We both chuckled. But then she kept going. I didn’t know what to do. Pick it up and throw it away? Leave it? It was weird. That’s all: just a weird little snippet of life that doesn’t really fit anywhere, except to amuse me.

What about you all? Are there any moments you remember like this that amuse you? Or moments you’ve tried to put in books that just didn’t work?

Self-Deprecating Sunday (20) Mindi Scott

Which treats of YA authors sharing the great and awkward of their teenage years.

Today, I’m honored to have a guest post by the sweet Mindi Scott, debut author of FREFALL, available October 5, 2010 from Simon Pulse. Visit her blog or website to learn more  about Mindi and her book. I immediately added FREEFALL to my Goodreads list.

From Mindi:

1990: I was in eighth grade and things were going groovy for me.  (And, yes, I actually used the word “groovy” at that time; Julia Roberts said it in Pretty Woman, which made it cool and retro.)  I was on a volleyball team and had lots of friends, good grades, and clothes I was very proud to wear.

Brand names were of utmost importance at my school.  My family couldn’t exactly afford them, but I saved up and used all my back-to-school money that year for a new wardrobe that consisted of mainly T-shirts and sweatshirts by Guess and Esprit and Keds in a variety of colors. Hooray and stuff!

Unfortunately, I was very skinny with long arms and legs.  But for some reason, no one in the whole world bothered to clue me in that my Guess Jeans T-shirt tucked into my very high-waist, tapered-leg, size-double-zero stretch jeans wasn’t a flattering look. Nor did they let me know that my permed hair with swooping bangs weren’t doing me any favors either.

What’s up with all that? Seriously.

Mindi, I love this photo!  I applaud your courage. Thank you so much for allowing me and the world to see you in your teenage years.  Congratulations on your novel. I’m excited to read it, and commend you for your publishing success. (Also, I noticed Chutes and Ladders on that self. Maybe we could play that together someday.)

If you are a YA author and would like to do a Self-Deprecating Sunday post over here at Sparks and Butterflies, please contact me at Jody(dot)mugele(at)gmail(dot)com. It’s more fun than church.