Har-ry! Har-ry! Har-ry!

I spent my weekend reading Harry Potter.

Actually, I spent my weekend preparing to get Harry Potter, then buying Harry Potter, then reading Harry Potter--and then, thinking about Harry Potter.

How many more times can I write Harry Potter?

Anyhow, I took my daughter (age 9) to a release party on Friday. We got there at 11:00 pm, and watched dedicated fans parade about in their costumes (my personal favorite: a 9 month-old dementor in her mommy's black hoodie), played Harry Potter (there it is, again) trivia, played Snape bingo--and then waited to purchase our copy of the book. My daughter's eyes were red slits by the time we left the store, but she thoroughly enjoyed the experience. There will never be anything else like it. What a phenomenon the Harry Potter books are.

I started reading the book at 1:00 am and managed to get in the first chapter before common sense told me to go to bed. I spent most of Saturday reading (swallowing) this last book, and I closed the cover at 10:10 Sunday morning. Deathly Hallows--quite a satisfactory ending to a wonderful, amazing series!

I did not answer any of my daughter's questions about it--no spoiler, here. But I realized something as we talked about the previous books; something that any writers of YA should be think about (and probably do. I'm just new to the game.) Kids don't see things the same way we do.

You see, Jenna mentioned that her friend Caitlin's favorite Harry Potter book so far was Order of the Pheonix. I was surprised. In my opinion, Harry was a whiny adolescent through the whole thing. NEWSFLASH: Whiney pre-adolescents think Harry's not whining in this book. (gasp!) Instead, they see Harry bunking authority and kids saving the day by practicing defense against the Dark Arts on their own. (!)

Um...yeah. Okay. Gotcha. New mantra: Kids really are different than adults. I thought I knew this, but didn't realize how much I didn't know it.

Know what I mean?

So, maybe my Internal Idiot is right. Why she didn't tell me this important fact, I'm not sure. I need to think more like a kid.

I wonder if it would help if I whined more?

Add a letter, minus three and...

Have you ever noticed how the same letters (+i, -r, -e, -d) of editor can be rearranged to spell...idiot?


That's one of those things that always pops out at me when I'm trying to write. You see, I've got this editor in my head. And the editor says, "This sucks. Are you kidding? You can't write. You can't plot. This is boring. There are too many words. There aren't enough. This whole thing doesn't make sense. It will never sell. No one will like it. I hate it. Stop. Stop writing, now. Go do something else. Go, be a housewife and wash your dishes."


Idiot.


I hate the editor in my head. She kills everything. AND, she makes me feel guilty for writing. I try not to listen to her, but...she makes it very hard. She sounds so credible.


So I keep using the formula. Add an i. Minus e, d, r. You get--idiot. That's what that internal editor is. An idiot. And that's what I'd be--what we'd all be--if we listened to her. (Because she lives in all our heads. Sometimes, she goes on vacation and lets us write in peace--probably haunting someone else's head. Oooh, I hate her.)


Anyhow, I'm working on my YA--or what I think might be a YA. I've only got six double-spaced pages completed. That editor is reading over my shoulder and she's got me doubting my story. I'm going to try and write past her...wish me luck.


Do you have any advice for quelling the editor (the idiot)? Please, share!

Paranormal solved!

Hello. My name is Duffy. I am the Dog of the House. There is another dog of the house. She is a bitch. Her name is Rosie.

Mommy isn't here, today. She is using the hose in the giant water dish in the backyard. She is muttering something about overfilling the dish and shorting out the filter. She is not cheerful.

I am cheerful. That is why I decided to help Mommy by writing her blog. I am a literate dog.

I am also very cute. Did you see my picture? I also included a picture of the bitch who is Rosie. She is not as cute as me. She is not literate, either. She is silly.

She is also responsible for paranormal happenings. Last night, we watched the show Ghost Hunters on the electric window. It is Mommy's favorite show. She knows where their office is, near our house. One day she saw the Brian-man getting the bitter brew that Mommy calls "coffee" at the shop she walks to everyday with the human puppy.

Anyway, back to Rosie. I realized this morning that Rosie is the reason paranormal--that is, things that are NOT normal--things happen. Like, things disappearing. Mommy left the room and--poof!--her coffee disappeared right out of her cup. When she came back, it was gone. That was because of the bitch, Rosie. She drank it.

Rosie also makes things like socks, shoes, underwear and toys disappear. You might think these things are being taken by a ghost. But no. They are being taken by a bitch. Paranormal solved! So we don't need Ghost Hunters. We need--me. Duffy. I am a very smart dog.

Now, if you'll please excuse me. I need to go find a place to spread my scent. Mommy's outside. I might as well use the corner of the couch...

The Dark Side of the Contest

A friend of mine was excited recently. She got her very first contest scores back. She'd done pretty well. But she was puzzled.

There were two judges who loved her writing. They praised her characterization, her voice, her use of pov--just about everything. They made long comments and critiques. They even let her know about their own background as published or unpublished authors.

And then...there was The Third Judge.

The Third Judge (known as 163) didn't like anything. She gave minimal scores on everything, but--cryptically--made no notes or critiques indicating why. She left no information as to her published status. 163 was a Black Hole of Judging, sucking the life out of the entry without giving anything back.

Have you experienced The Third Judge?

I have. I've entered a myriad of contests. I've finalled in most of them (tooting my own horn here--take that, you evil judge). Yet, there has always--always--been that Third Judge. The Evil one. The Dark One.

Darth Judge.

Her sole purpose is to drag you down into the dark side of the contest. She wants to destroy all the goodness and light you feel about your writing. She wants you to succumb.

She gives you nothing but despair. And, a lower percentile. The most she'll offer is a 5 out of a possible 10. BUT, she won't tell you why. This is part of her plan. She makes you wonder, makes you question yourself, and your own abilities.

I'm almost positive that this judge is the same one for all contests. She is neither published nor unpublished. She is just...a judge. She sits at a desk, (probably a shiny black one), and daily destroys the dreams of the hopeful writer with the swipe of her pen. She does nothing else. And it brings her pleasure.

The only thing I could offer my friend was this--when you enter a contest, be prepared for Darth Judge. Accept her scores but don't wonder why she gave them. It is what she does. She tells you not why she doesn't like your writing. The reason, I'm sure, is because SHE CANNOT WRITE. All she can do is be The Judge (and think she can write).

And that's the weapon we writers have against Darth Judge and her dark scores. We have the ability to create worlds with our words. Yes, she can try to destroy them but--we are stronger. We are creative. We are vibrant.

Besides, we outnumber her and could pummel her little vicious ass if we bothered to find out where she lives. Probably some trailer park.

Pay attention, 163. We're on to you!

Although...sometimes real writers vacuum the pool.

What is it about water? The calm blue of a pool, even when dotted with bugs in their death throes, can be inspirational.

I have a writer-friend who does all her rewriting in her tub. She's got one of those big, walk-in spas. On the edge, where some folks keep spare bottles of shampoo and razors, she has a mug full of pens. She swears by this method. Writing while in water boosts her creativity. And she has a group of brainstorming buddies who swear to the same theory. Since's she's multipublished, I figure, she knows what she's talking about.

I have yet to try writing while in the tub. Or the pool. Maybe I'll try after I finish scooping out the bugs.