I forgot to tell you how awesome I am.

Publishers Weekly said about Capers,  “Piva fuses romance, family, food, travel, and a touch of mystery in this charming, character-driven story narrated by 17-year-old Hazel…. Hazel’s credible and often funny narration keeps Piva’s novel moving at a bracing clip.”

Cover Reveal (or: Go buy this book! Now!): Forever My Girl by Heidi McLaughlin

Release: December 27th

Blurb:

I was never supposed to be a rock star. I had my life all planned out for me. Play football in college. Go to the NFL. Marry my high school sweetheart and live happily ever after.

I broke both our hearts that day when I told her I was leaving. I was young. I made the right decision for me, but the wrong decision for us. I’ve poured my soul into my music, but I’ve never forgotten her. Her smell, her smile.

And now I’m going back.

After ten years.

I hope I can explain that after all this time.

I still want her to be my forever girl.

My grandma once told me that I can do anything I want, so I am.

Originally from the Pacific Northwest, I now live in picturesque Vermont, with my husband and two daughters. Also renting space in our home is an overhyper Beagle/Jack Russell and two Parakeets.

During the day you'll find me behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, I'm writing one of the many stories I plan to release or sitting courtside during either daughter's basketball games.

I'm also an active reviewer on The Readiacs - a site I own with my best friend and uber special beta, Yvette.

Website † Facebook † GoodReads † Twitter


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GIVEAWAY
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This giveaway is open INTERNATIONAL.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Do you know what this is?

If you guessed awesome, then you are correct!! A million cupcakes for you!!

Look!!!

More details soon!!!

I am the cover to Penny's book! *

*Designed by the most awesomely amazing Jame Richards!

I'm denouementing. And whining.

Lots of writers say they don't like writing the middle of their stories, especially novels because they (the middles) are just so...effing...long.

Yeah, that can be a problem. Friend/mentor/really cool lady Pat Giff says we should keep making the problem (conflict) worse for the main character during this time. That has helped me a lot to get through those pesky long middles.

Me? I'm no fan of the denouement, the very very end of the story where everything wraps up. According to this source, which is not wikipedia,*  "Denouement is usually the final scene or chapter in which any necessary, and, as yet unmade, clarifications are made. The word is taken directly from French and means literally 'untying.' The French nouer is from the Latin nodare which was derived from nodus, meaning 'knot to untie.'"

Look! A graph! Or is it a chart? Or a map? ::shrugs:: I'll stick to writing.

My inclination is to write an ending something along the lines of "And then they died. The end" regardless of what came before that sentence, but apparently this is not an ending readers like. In fact this pesky denouement** is the only part of the Julia novel (which I've been working since...forever) that I have left to write. My friend Shelagh (check out her blog) said I'm not allowed to end this way. She is mean.*** 

How to tell I do not like writing that part of the book?  I'm explaining literary terms to you rather than just doing it.

In order to not have a predictable ending, I may have fiddled with the idea of the happy ending. I read recently, "You can write a good ending as some novelists do. You can write a great ending as fewer do. You could write the perfect ending as all too few do. Or... you could write the only ending. Ah, there's the rub. What's the perfect ending? And can the progression of the plot (i.e. the journey of the character(s) and chain of events) justify the denouement and vice versa?"

 I KNOW what the perfect ending is.**** I just don't want to write it because it may wind up being a little bit sad and I don't like being sad.

It's not like I am against happy endings in general. I love happy endings. (Shut up, you.) I just want it to be DONE already.****

 Fine. I'll do it. (After snacktime.) But I'm not going to like it. (But I will like the snack.)

What's that? You're worried because I seem to have completely abandoned Hazel?  Oh, on the contrary. She has some big news coming up in less than a month. But it's a secret so you will have to wait.




*Although they have a great breakdown of dramatic structure even though they are The Evil W.
**But I do LOVE to say "denouement" because it makes me feel really really smart.
***Not really. She is actually very nice.
****Because The Ending Fairy came!
*****And by DONE, I mean MOSTLY done. She still needs a good going through/editing, but that's different and way easier.

I am making food.

In the crockpot. Set on low. I have to STOP checking its progress. (Is it cooking yet? How about now? Now?)*

Here's a quiz (with imaginary prizes):

If left to my own eating devices, I would

a) Have a frozen dinner for just about every meal except the ones where someone else cooks
b) Die of malnutrition
c) Live on a giant batch of shepherd's pie.
d) Eat cake for almost every breakfast
e) Any and all of the above.

The answer is E, of course.

But you know what's funny, in a not funny-haha way? Every single solitary thing (book/story/whatever) I write has super descriptions of tasty treats (not just cake) and delicious recipes in them.  If pressed, could I actually make these recipes/foodstuffs?

Other people could. Me? Well...I have this whole following-directions problem, which kind of goes along with the shiny button syndrome.**

As I was falling asleep last night, I was thinking, "Hmmm...I could actually SHARE these things, these recipes with you all. And The Chef could help me make sure I'm not effing up big-time mid-creation."

What's that? You want to know what I'm making now? What would you say to Slow Cooker Brown Sugar Pork Loin? 



Get in mah belly. (Lousy pic, I know. I'll get you a mouth-watering one later!)



When The Chef emailed me the recipe yesterday, what I said was "This looks so good I want to have sex with it on the first date."  I know what you're thinking: Um, Penny, that (the food, not the sex) sounds fancy and direction-y. I KNOW! But two things:

1. The Chef prepped the meat last night
2. I only had to mix brown sugar with a few other things. When sugar's involved, I'm an idiot savant. (I love you, sugar.)

Plus another thing, which makes three things: slooooow cooker, whose motto should be I'll do all the work. You go relax--or perhaps GET BACK TO WORK! That book ain't going to write itself!

Is it done now? No.

More on this potentially-delish dish of deliciousness later, once full contact has been made with my mouth. Nom nom nom.

*Now?

**Latest episode? Yesterday I was taking clothes from the dryer and something--the phone ringing? a bunny hopping across the yard? an alien invasion?--something happened and I walked away from the task; aforementioned incomplete task was discovered by The Chef. Open bifold laundry doors. Open dryer. Clothes spilling onto the dryer door like they were trying to make an escape.

"What the...?" he started.

"It's best you don't ask," I told him. That's best for everyone.

You think I haven't been writing.

But you would be very very wrong.

I have. I've just been forgetting to tell you.  In fact recently, there was a 1494-word day and a 1775-day.

And just yesterday there were 1083+783 words, which makes...

(please sing to yourself for a minute...)

1866 words! That was on my new book, because I'm waiting for the Ending Fairy to come down and bless me with a satisfying ending for Julia.

Yes, this is the Ending Fairy. She also brings cake to celebrate.

In other writing news, I'm thinking about starting a blog based on writing alone because I'm sure you non-writers would rather stick a fork in your eye--or maybe a spork for more scooping action--than read about angsty writing stuff.  Just thinking about it.  In a procrastinating actual writing kind of way...

A pictoral ode to 752 words



764 words (for now)

I came; I wrote; I showered, got ready to go out, and then went out and partied like the rock star that I am.

Stop laughing.

We are going out later. Probably partying more like a chamber music choir member than a rock star, 'cause that's how I roll!*

It's research for my next book! I pinky swear!

XOXO

*Actually, in the movie Rock Star, wasn't Mark Wahlberg's Chris "Izzy" Cole a member of the church choir?

"When is choir practice?"

The Chef is home from hunting and Man Camp!!!

So no words today. Tomorrow for sure! I'm so close to the ending I can taste it. Yum! Almost as good as the pumpkin pie, which I still regret throwing away.

Catch you on the flip-flop!

XOXO

I'm not too shy to share this with you...

Is it really stealing if I tell you I stole this from Carl King's website?

Myths about Introverts!

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk.
This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.

Myth #2 – Introverts are shy.
Shyness has nothing to do with being an Introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting. If you want to talk to an Introvert, just start talking. Don’t worry about being polite.

Myth #3 – Introverts are rude.
Introverts often don’t see a reason for beating around the bush with social pleasantries. They want everyone to just be real and honest. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable in most settings, so Introverts can feel a lot of pressure to fit in, which they find exhausting.

Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people.
On the contrary, Introverts intensely value the few friends they have. They can count their close friends on one hand. If you are lucky enough for an introvert to consider you a friend, you probably have a loyal ally for life. Once you have earned their respect as being a person of substance, you’re in.

Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public.
Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for Introverts.

Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone.
Introverts are perfectly comfortable with their own thoughts. They think a lot. They daydream. They like to have problems to work on, puzzles to solve. But they can also get incredibly lonely if they don’t have anyone to share their discoveries with. They crave an authentic and sincere connection with ONE PERSON at a time.

Myth #7 – Introverts are weird.
Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.

Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds.
Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions. It’s not that they are incapable of paying attention to what is going on around them, it’s just that their inner world is much more stimulating and rewarding to them.

Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun.
Introverts typically relax at home or in nature, not in busy public places. Introverts are not thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. If there is too much talking and noise going on, they shut down. Their brains are too sensitive to the neurotransmitter called Dopamine. Introverts and Extroverts have different dominant neuro-pathways. Just look it up.

Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.
A world without Introverts would be a world with few scientists, musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, doctors, mathematicians, writers, and philosophers. That being said, there are still plenty of techniques an Extrovert can learn in order to interact with Introvert. Introverts cannot “fix themselves” and deserve respect for their natural temperament and contributions to the human race. In fact, one study (Silverman, 1986) showed that the percentage of Introverts increases with IQ.

Penny here again.
I thought I'd share these because they are interesting character traits--characters like in my writing, not like in real life. Who cares about real life? :)

And Penny here from the iPad, so you'll not be getting any pictures from me today!

I wish it could be more...

...but I only have time for 524 words today.

But! There should be much rejoicing because I figured out the thing that I couldn't figure out with the plot and now it's figured.  I will have to go through the whole darned thing to make the figured out stuff work, but I will do that at the same time I make my romantic hero Irish all the way through.

My main character's main squeeze is from somewhere on this map. Anyone know from where, exactly? His name is Ryan (for now). Do you know him? Do you know where he lives?

In other news...

Oh my gah! I just yawned so hard that I almost dislocated my jaw. Apparently that means I am tired and should start wrapping up my day and go to bed. But the internets! They are so shiny!

I'm looking forward to The Chef returning from Man Camp (where they hunt and drink and act manly) tomorrow.  If I go to bed now, his return will be that much closer. A week is a really long time!  Thankfully, that BFF of mine came and saved me from myself for a few days!

Two more weeks of school after this week, which is more than halfway done, so we can stop counting it. Two. More. Weeks.  And you know what that means!  The birthday countdown begins!

25 days until my birthday!

(Shop early; shop often)

XOXO

528 and a red hairring

Words.  528 words tonight.

But! This day was so incredibly productive, with some Christmas shopping and our most fabulous hairdresser coming over to make my hair even redder than it has ever been.  Deep delicious red. LOVE it. Also love that she comes over to the house rather than making us go to a salon like the commoners.

"Hello, Commoners... We don't go to the salon either."

So that's that.

Color me lucky and red, actually...

XOXO

Five months and one day later...

Wheee! Look at me! This is like a pattern!

I downloaded/purchased this:

It will now be responsible for keeping me organized and keeping my characters from turning Irish with fifty pages to go.  You know how those crazy those rogue Irish characters can be! Earn your keep, Scrivener! Earn. Your. Keep.

XOXO

Five months later...

I swear, I've been thinking about you a lot. I really have. And I have lots and lots to tell you, except I'm feeling shy and awkward because its been so long. You know how that goes, right?

In bullets, because that seems like the easiest way to get through a bunch of it--the blogging equivilent of pages flying off a daily calendar in a movie.

Oh, and keep in mind that this is nowherenear a complete list.  In fact, it's just this past week...

• My son decided he is going to move to Missouri for his job.  I don't know if you know this, but Missouri is far away from Massachusetts, so far it is actually a place that I couldn't find on a map if hard-pressed. (Shut. Up.) This also involves much parental angst and staring off into space, not to mention map-Googling.
•  The Chef (with whom I now live--in sin!) is off shooting things in the woods for a week, after many shopping trips and errands and lists. I think much drinking will also be going on at Man Camp, although probably not at the same time as the shooting. (Not to be all girly, but I miss him.)
• I cooked my very first Thanksgiving dinner for eight people. No one died (that I know of). Pies were made! Bread baked! Turkey watched obsessively!
• I plotted out my next writing project (adult!), complete with character sketches and location descriptions and chapter outlines.  Can't wait to get to it! [This burst of genius brought to you by the mad brainstorming skillz of the best BFF ever.]  I've always been a pantser-type writer (as in flying by the seat of your pants) but this thinking about it beforehand might actually have some merit. I reserve my right to go back to winging it at any time.
• But first I must finish the current project, an adult chick-litty novel., which has not been plotted out except with some shady bullet points in my head.  This weekend I managed to pound out about 25 pages (with about that much more to go before much-needed revision--my romantic lead turned Irish about 40 pages ago; a little warning would have been nice).  I would have done more this weekend but there were too many snacks and leftovers that needed to be eaten and that takes TIME, people!

 Okay, I have to go. It's an hour past my bedtime; blogger is being stupid and I'm getting frustrated; I can't leave my main character literally standing in the middle of the street while I head off to bed. (That's just mean, especially since she's smack dab between a bakery and a cafe.) Oh, and I may need one more snack to cap off this Thanksgiving weekend.  The rest of it goes in the trash tomorrow. Swear!

XOXO

P.

Where credit is due OR: My guy is the BEST!

Not only does he put up with my special brand of crazy, he's also an active participant in Crazytown. (And I am thankful for that many times a day.)

To wit:
I've been working on this manuscript for, oh, I'd say since God was a kid, and there's food in it. I mean, not on the pages, because that would be gross (especially since it's on the laptop) but there's lots of food described and lots of cooking and none of it is the sugar-free chocolate pudding and/or cool whip I just ate.


Hello, friend.

 No! Its is good, delicious food.

Food I couldn't possibly cook myself, for I am not an idiot savant in the kitchen--just an idiot.*

Describing the aforementioned delicious food being deliciously cooked while attempting to cook it was/is near impossible. So I asked The Chef if he could please please please make a couple of recipes so I could watch and then use my smarty-pants brain to describe the process. And then put some plot points in there too.  And he did!

First, there was a pasta and cauliflower dish that was A-MAZ-ING (even though a vegetable was involved)


The amazing pasta dish, Strascinati con cavolfiori e mollica fritta ( pasta with cauliflower and fried breadcrumbs). Doesn't everything sound better in Italian?

... and then there was veal piccata** with artichokes (which I didn't even know I LIKED!) that I would marry I loved it so much.

I do.

I guess we're all just left to wonder what flavor of crazy is coming up next. ***



*Unless we're talking about baking, in which case, I am a monster genius. Or at least geniusy.
**Spellcheck wants to change this to pinata. Veal pinata would not be nearly as delicious. And much more messy.
***Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Foodstuff and Stuff (but not H.R. Puffenstuff)

So The Chef and I went to NYC this weekend under the auspices of me going to the SCBWI (make it up or look it up) conference. He frolicked about whilst I...did not. Although I did play nicely with my friends.  More about the conference another day. Maybe I'll even tell you about hanging out with R.L. Stine (yes, he of Goosebumps fame).

But! We frolicked together in the night! And on Friday, we went to one of our all-time favorite places, Eataly.  There, amongst the amazing foodstuffs, we had meals made of the very foodstuffs we'd been mingling amongst. (Please tell me you caught the gist of that sentence.)

Imagine this as a whole pizza, with buffalo mozz and high-end olive oil, and basil of course. We also talked the folks sitting next to us to get one of their very own. We are very good suggestive sellers. That was not meant to sound dirty, and yet...it does.

This is fritto misto. Or it was...before we ATE it. I had the calimari and a piece of skate. The Chef ate everything I didn't, because he will eat anything (almost). And he WILL try everything. I try to try everything, but sometimes I have to squash that idea.

This is me squashing the try everything idea. It is a SEA URCHIN and it was still MOVING (which was both gross and cool). It also made quite a nice hat. I think The Chef is tired of me openly mocking this foodstuff. But...but...I just can't help it. As my BFF pointed out, a few years ago I wouldn't even eat garlic in my mashed potatoes. So this...no.

More NYC reports coming up, but not now, as I am very tired from the jaunt that shall bring you more blog posts--another time.

From Publisher's Marketplace!!! Yay Jack!!!

THE BIG POLICEMAN* author J. North Conway's BAG OF BONES, the tale of the mystery surrounding the theft, ransom and return of Alexander Turney Stewart's remains and one of the most renowned and bungled police investigations in New York City's history, to Keith Wallman at Lyons Press, for publication in Spring 2012, by Tris Coburn at Tristram C. Coburn Literary Management (World).

(I'm doing this from my iPad, so I have limited maneuverability here. Later I will add links and pics. but I wanted to share the news because I am EXCITED for my friend! Yay!)

*Buy THIS book and you may (okay you will--if you look) find a certain someone's name on the acknowledgements** page

**This is such a hard word to type. Try it!

Some Easy Reading* for You (while I go grade essays)

Easy reading is damn hard writing.  ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
Ain't that the truth. And trying to keep the pesky author out of it! Ay carumba!

What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out of the window.  ~Burton Rascoe

Dear Chef--See! I AM writing when I look like a zombie in training. (I say "in training" rather than plain-old zombie because my hair looks FANTASTIC; zombies always need a visit from the stylist. By the way, thanks for the visit from the stylist this weekend! I'm digressing again, aren't I?) My point was/is I am writing when I am staring off into space!

Loafing is the most productive part of a writer's life.  ~James Norman Hall
See: staring out the window (above)

There's nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.  ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith
That's exactly what I'll be doing later, because I didn't get much of anything done this weekend writerly-wise. I suspect it'll look like Dexter has been here.  But! I did get a cute haircut. And we went here for dinner and it was GREAT! And then we went to Smoke, where the folks greet us with firm handshakes (The Chef) and kisses (me).

This is the fried calamari in garlic sauce I'm now madly in love with.

And then you know what happened, right?

Look, I am crying because we're going to the SuperBowl AND I get a MASSIVE bonus. Plus The Chef is exuberantly happy. That's why I do this, man! 
Love, Ben R.

 You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.  ~Ray Bradbury

Or stay drunk...just saying...I think I forgot to add "Drink more" to my New Year's resolutions. Consider it added now.

*This post took me all day to write. Of course, I had to leave the house and teach midway through...

Scribbling and snacking my way to NYC

FIRST DRAFT
"Don't get it right, just get it written”
          --James Thurber
Me: scribblescribblescribblescribble DONE!

SECOND-ISH DRAFT/MINOR OVERHAUL
“Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators.”
          --Olin Miller
Me: scribble Look! Something shiny! scribble scribble This stinks! scribble ::years pass:: (imagine a calendar with the pages flying off, a la Hollywood) scribble?

THIRD-ISH (and by this I mean SEVENTH-ISH) DRAFT/ MAJOR OVERHAUL
“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.”
          --Moliere
Me: scribble snack scribble ::sees end of the story, a mere weekend away:: scribble snack scribble snack scribble

I said I would get this thing (known by friends and family merely as "Hazel") done by the end of the month. Actually, I said I would get this YA novel done by the end of last November, during NaNoWriMo, but there was that whole extended hospital stay (kidney infection, pneumonia, and gall bladder) and pain-medication-fueled recovery, during which time my brain resembled a tumbleweed.

Of course, anyone who knows me also knows

1. I will do anything for attention
2. I will do, no, would have done anything to avoid finishing this thing--but not anymore. Now I want to be done. Done-er than done.
3. I rarely feel badly about not achieving a self-imposed goal. I just wave to it as it passes by. No sense beating myself up; I was probably distracted by shiny things, and who can feel badly about THAT?

Psst. The Chef doesn't know this but he's going to help me this weekend with some of the foodstuff descriptions included within Hazel. The book, not the person. Not that she's a real person. You know what I mean. But I digress (again). My degree has made writing about the sweet stuff easy. The savory? Not so much, especially considering if left to my own devices, I'd eat Campbell's tomato soup for every meal. Except breakfast, at which time I would have French toast.

Don't worry! He shall be rewarded--with a trip to New York for the SCBWI conference next week. Well, it's kind of a reward. It's reward-ish.

When Jame asked if he'd be attending sessions, I said (via the facebook), "He will run amok in the city whilst we suffer for our craft. Or sneak off and drink. Whatever." 

Then she pointed out, "Watch he'll get a book deal while he's out: Drinking in the Underbelly or some such." Knowing The Chef as I do, I TOTALLY see that happening.Stay tuned to see who he signs with. :)

We'll be staying here. Well, kind of here. Dare I say, here-ish?