Falling In Love Again

It's posting day for the Bookanistas today.

Been a while since I last did a book review. Wow. AGES.

Ok, so can I just be honest? I'm afraid to tell you, because maybe you'll think this means I'm defunct or something, not a real writer. Try not to judge me, okay?

Alright, so, a while back I was kind of in a slump when it comes to books. It's just...I think maybe...I fell out of love with reading. Maybe that's normal, inevitable even when you're struggling to keep working in a heartbreaking industry, struggling just to believe that YOU ARE A WRITER DAMMIT. It's like books themselves sort of become heartbreaking. So I stopped picking them up.

When I was trying to work out what was wrong with me, I wrote this to a friend of mine: "Why, [Friend], I think I've left publishing's Never Neverland."

It's like I couldn't read a book without seeing all its flaws and questioning why, why, why can't I fall into you and forget you're just a book? Reading was making me so anxious. Like stupid restless. So I delved into movies instead--so. many. films--because stories themselves are an addiction I can't ever quit, but books just...hurt.

Then I read Mary E. Pearson's The Adoration of Jenna Fox. And I remembered. Oh my god, I remembered. And I forgot I was reading a book. I don't know why. I mean, why this book? It's not that there haven't been other amazing concepts or beautiful samples and swirls of writing to make me think there would be others I'd want to read. But there was something about this book's premise that caught my eye. The way Jenna wakes up and has to rediscover the world and existence and what it all means, the exploration of human nature and love and hate, the ethical implications of this new thing in the world. It was like something I'd want to write. Something I would want to tackle. Just the summary gave me hope, this book that focused on so many things that matter to me--things I write about. Like, maybe there's a place for me yet. I don't know, I don't write like her, but I made a connection for some reason. It made sense in my head anyway, rumbling thoughts coalescing through longings too deep and loud to be ignored.

So I read it, and my heart swelled and I thought to myself YES. And something cracked open inside me. Now I'm making friends with books again. I'm reading. So. many. books. And, oddly enough, I feel certain that I AM A WRITER DAMMIT, more than ever. Because, see, I didn't just fall in love with reading books again. I fell back in love with writing them.

EPIPHANY. It wasn't other people's books that made me turn away. It was my own. I let my treasured books become a source of pain instead of comfort. So by default, I could not bear to love any others.

So now, as I've learned to love all things written again, I want to highlight some recent book deals that have me really excited. Yes, they are book deals of friends, but it makes them no less amazing or worthwhile. Please join me in congratulating:

Christa Desir, author of FAULT LINE (Simon Pulse), on her sale of her young adult BLEED LIKE ME, in which two troubled teens are swept into an intense relationship that ultimately becomes dangerous to them both, to Liesa Abrams at Simon Pulse, by Sarah LaPolla at Curtis Brown. (Publisher's Marketplace) You can read more about the story behind the sale HERE. 

 Sara B. Larson on the sale of her young adult DEFY, a debut adventure romance pitched as in the vein of Kristin Cashore and Leigh Bardugo, in which the fiercest member of a prince's elite guard is actually a girl disguised as a boy and, as this daughter of war is embroiled in a deadly game of thrones while keeping her secret, realizes she has far deeper feelings for the prince, to Lisa Sandell at Scholastic Press, for publication in Spring 2014, by Josh Adams at Adams Literary. (Publisher's Marketplace) You can read more about the story behind the sale HERE.

Jaqueline Koyanagi on the debut sale of her science fiction SURGERY IN THE SKY, about an engineer who falls in love with a starship captain when she stows away on her ship, to Paula Guran at Prime Books, for publication in Fall 2013, by Rachel Kory at Scovil Galen Ghosh Literary Agency. (Publisher's Marketplace) For her thoughts on this sale/book, go HERE.

Kristin Rae on the debut sale of her young adult IF ONLY YOU WERE ITALIAN to Caroline Abbey at Bloomsbury, for publication in Spring 2014, by Marietta Zacker at Nancy Gallt Literary Agency. For more on this sale go HERE.

So excited to read these and so thrilled for these writers!! *APPLAUSE* If you haven't done so yet, stop by to wish these guys well, okay?

I've tried so hard to focus on my writing and the most important things in my life. 

But it feels kind of good to think about books and this world again. It's invigorating to celebrate with these guys. So cheers, one and all. Today, I salute you.

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Be sure to check out the other Bookanista reviews posting today! Not many for now, but we're planning something kind of big. So...

Katy Upperman recommends Veronica Rossi's THROUGH THE EVER NIGHT

Jessica Love marvels over Rainbow Rowell's ELEANOR & PARK

Slice of My Life: Sometimes I Change the Ending

I was working on a different post last week, something light and full of fluff. Heavily featured reality television and a wheel of cheese. And then I went out with my family for Valentine's Day--Thai place, delicious little hole in the wall that was packed and takes reservations. It had been a busy day, as is usual for a weekday in our house. We felt rushed to squeeze in dinner, so by the time we got to the restaurant, we were hungry, tired and a little grumpy, already thinking about what we had to take care of as soon as we got home—so we were distracted, too. But when we walked in I perked up at the sight of the gigantic bouquet of roses at the head table in the restaurant. You know the table—the one at the very front facing the rest of the place, the only one with the white cloth amongst red-clad ones. It's a special table, and there was an older gentleman sitting there, late sixties maybe. He seemed nervous, tapping his water glass, moving it across the table centimeter by centimeter and then shifting it back. He checked his watch constantly, eyeing the door as if it didn't matter but we all knew it did.

As we sat down in the table just a few feet in front of him, Hubs said something like, “looks like someone's about to get some beautiful flowers,” and I smiled and felt kind of relaxed for the first time that day. Beautiful flowers, indeed. Happiness. But after a few minutes, the man at the head table was still by himself. He hadn't ordered any food, just slowly sipped from his water glass, tapping the stem, eyes on his watch, door, palms of his hands. We got our drinks, ordered our food, exchanged a bit of banter, and then I found myself growing restless. A bit anxious, really. The man was still alone.

One glance around the restaurant and I noticed all the eyes surreptitiously glancing his way. A few leaned across tables to whisper to their partners, and my heart sank. The man could see us seeing him and his giant flowers, of course he could. We all watched the door, watched him, and he saw it all, wringing his hands. I started wanting so much for someone to walk in and spot the man and wave. Maybe she would clutch her scarf, tilt her head a bit and smile so big, but biting her lip a little—she'd be so embarrassed, see. Maybe her dog had taken forever to pee, and then she decided to change her shoes one last time and swapped them out several times before settling on the sweet little beige heels with the ribbon ties at the ankles, and then maybe she had to change her coat to match, but she couldn't find that beige coat with the pointed lapels and brown ribbon ties instead of buttons, and when she finally found it buried deep in her closet she couldn't find her keys. Maybe it took her a half hour to realize she left them outside when she took the dog out. So by the time she would walk into the restaurant, she'd be a little out of breath, but so relieved to see him there, waiting for her, and her eyes would widen at the sight of the massive bouquet, and he would stand and hold his hand to his chest, so relieved she came and she's well and not in an accident because she never called. Why didn't she call?

There was an obnoxious woman sitting in the table on the other side of us. She was very loud, and her voice was grating—the kind of voice that gets louder just so everyone can hear her because she's oh-so-funny and charming. And oh my god I wanted to strike her when she stood in a showy flurry and grabbed the water jug at the server's table next to the kitchen, making such a big deal of having waited for a drink. Not only did she pour water for everyone at her own table, she went around pouring water for every table as if she were cute instead of ridiculous and then she approached the man with the flowers. The man, who at this point was doing his best to just disappear. He got all flustered and waved the woman away with an embarrassed “no, please,” and she insisted so loud, “Are you sure? It's no bother. I can give you water, letmegiveyouwater.” “Please, no.” Just go was written all over his face, and my heart sank all the more. Leave him alone, you stupid woman. I hurt for him. I wanted so much for someone to walk in, and all he had was this loud woman, so, so present and attention-calling and just go away.

After our dinner was served, the man reached into the jacket he'd never taken off and pulled his keys out. He backed his chair up slowly, glancing at the door. After a few very slow seconds, he unfolded himself, an accordion stretching, broken without music. And then he shuffled out, his head hanging, eyes on his feet, past our table, past the loud woman's table, past every table to the door. And then he was gone.

The loud woman called a server over and asked her, so loud, “Did that man leave those flowers for you? Or are they there for something else? Are they yours?” The server got all flustered and mumbled an answer no one heard and made a hasty exit towards the kitchen.

Hubs and I exchanged embarrassed smiles, maybe worried glances. "Do you think the flowers were his?" I whispered. "I don't know," he said. We both looked at the beautiful, massive bouquet left behind. “The Pad Thai is so good,” I said after a while. “You said that already,” my daughter mumbled, kind of distracted. It's true, I'd said that. But everyone agreed the Pad Thai was really good, because it was and it was Valentine's Day and the man with the flowers was gone and what did that have to do with anything?

Except all night I thought about that man. And the next day and the next. Was it a blind date? Or someone he'd known in another life and now they were both divorced, or widowed, and finally moving on, though a little scared. Was it a daughter he'd never met before? Or a reunion with a best friend or former lover he hadn't talked to in years? Or a secret liaison, one he'd changed his mind on a thousand times.

Today I decided that the person who never showed had been in the hospital with an acute attack of the Noro Virus, and she called him as soon as she got home. They have a new date scheduled for this Saturday. He will bring her flowers again and she will wear her beige heels with the ribbon ties at the ankles. When people look at him, he will know they see his happiness and nothing more, and everything will be beautiful.

Where I've Been and Why Sometimes I Must Quit the Internet

I was thinking I'd have launched my fresh, new blog by now, like before I posted on The Kindness Project blog again. ... Well. ...  I posted on The Kindness Blog again. (HERE, actually. On Death Eaters and kindness and stuff.)

So. I should relaunch, probably. Hm.

...

Yay? ... YAY! Welcome to my new blog! Carolina Valdez Miller 2.0. Hooray Hooray! HOORAY!

I know. Lame. This celebration reeks. I need a party planner.

But it is pretty, isn't it? Sleek and untainted by a ridiculous coffee cup that has no place on my blog since I generally drink Coke Zero and WTF do drinks have anything to do with anything? I owe Liz Davis a huge thank you for my blog redesign (check out her fabulous new blog while you're at it). I wanted something streamlined with no curly weirdness or dangly things, and one day out of the blue she says, hey take a look, yeah? And I looked and liked and I said DUDE FOR ME? Yeah, for me. I have my own favicon now!! She's awesome like that and now I will hug my new blog until it whimpers. THANK YOU, LIZ IT IS SO PRETTY I JARED LETO LOVE IT.

Okay, so, where have I been, right? Well. I've been...around.

Blogging used to feel more important. Like it used to feel as if it were a necessary part of the on-my-way-to-publication plan. For one thing there's that whole business of establishing a possible-reader base pre-publication which at one time was like THE THING TO DO. And then there was that whole matter of finding others in the same position trying to slog their way through the crazy of publishing in the best way they could. Flailing and treading water feels a little more productive when there are others right beside you. And too, it made this sometimes very lonely business feel a little less lonely.

But. Deep down I'm just a writer. You know? Blogging is a lot of work when you do it right--like with interaction and stuff. And that's hard to do and keep up your writing and your personal life, at least for any length of time without burning out. Throw in the push to actually publish and blogging tends to lose its appeal considerably--sort of like an ice pack that suddenly starts frostbiting the crap out of your sore knee (which I've done, by the way. For real).

Publishing is a tough business. And in some ways a hell of a lot harder to get into when you're also exposed to others who are either failing miserably or succeeding wildly. The failures make you freak like a mother hen living next door to another hen whose chicks just got eaten by a rabid fox. And the successes...well, while they inspire you and make you so glad for others and so excited to be a part of something so exciting...you're also reminded intensely of where you want so much to be and currently are not. The dream unfolds right before your eyes and you see, down to the minutest detail, all the things you want, right there, just out of reach, with all the statistics of possibility also right there screaming YEAH NOT LIKELY, HOMEY. And it becomes not so difficult to get distracted and discouraged and petrified. And then maybe you find ambition broiling into anxiety and insecurity with others either whizzing past you to your intended destination or falling to the ground, choking on their dreams. And suddenly you find yourself in a race you never meant to enter.

The thing is, when you're writing you feel good. Right? You see your words and sometimes you cry because holy crap did I really just write that? Me? My words? Oh my god. But sometimes? Sometimes you get online and get bombarded with so, so much and then you read your own words again and suddenly they don't look the same anymore and then you deflate and flail, kind of limply. It's not always like this, but sometimes, yes. So it goes like this: In your bubble, isolated from ALL THE NOISE you're a freaking rock star. Outside of the bubble you become just a peon in the screaming crowd who can't get freaking tickets to the show.

And to make it as a published writer--to not give up just because it feels like you suck--you have to find a way to silence the noise that drowns the voices in your head whispering how awesome you are. You must be CONFIDENT. You must be PATIENT. And you must BELIEVE it's a reachable dream. Which means you must FOCUS. Focus most on the things that matter most. So I did that, and if I have to I will do it again. Because, man have I been productive and more at peace than ever before, watching movies and going out and coloring and baking and just...normal stuff.

Loved Ones. Writing. Everything else. In that order.

But you know what? In all that time I've spent away, I've been building up a whole lot of things to say. Seriously, you have no idea. I'm exploding. So, consider me BACK. If you stick with me, maybe we can strike up a conversation, like once or week or, you know, something more than never.

I miss this. I miss you.

I'm Alive, Whispering out of the Dark, Empty Cave

Today I'm blogging at The Kindness Project blog with "The Power of Touch," in which I get personal. I know, shocking.

Also, a bit of news, since you may have assumed I'd given up on this blog: I'm coming back! For the moment, we'll just say I'm working on PROJECT RELAUNCH. Hopefully, things will soon be all shiny and new and full of words.

So. Yeah.

CAROLINA VALDEZ MILLER 2.0 COMING SOON, EARLY 2013!

I've Got NEWS, Yo.

It's been a while, huh? I could make excuses, but. You know. Stuff happens. I keep meaning to revamp this blog, too. So maybe next time you hear from me it'll look more like me (taking suggestions for what that would look like.)

Anyway, I'm here to tell you that The Kindness Project folks have started a new blog! Woo-hooo! This means that you won't get a ton of posts all on one day, the second Wednesday of every month. Rather, you'll get one post three times a week. We're still encouraging others to blog about kindness on their own blogs too whenever they like (we've got a button just waiting for you), but we've added a feature where you can guest blog for us on Saturdays. All you do is fill out a form. All are welcome. And when I say all, I mean all. Not just writers, or over 18's, or people in the YA industry, or perfect people. ALL. Anyone who feels inspired to dole out or receive kindness.

So come on over. Check us out. Follow. Et cetera. I'd love to see you join us there. I think you'll be surprised what a happy place it is. How good it makes you feel. Like cozy slippers and a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. It's what we're aiming for anyway. Come see. Come seeeeee.

We're on Twitter, too. Come follow us! And Facebook. Come like us! Give us enough time and you'll find us on Pinterest. Youtube. Alaska. Kindness should be everywhere, don't you think?

P.S. I didn't mean to freak you out with that title. I realize maybe I did, and you came here thinking I'd be all like I'm having a baby, eeeeep! Well, not as far as I know. So. Anyway. This is exciting, though. Right? A new blog. All about kindness. YAY!

The Kindness Project: Finding Strength with a Shovel and a Pail

Too often kindness is relegated to a random act performed only when we’re feeling good. But an even greater kindness (to ourselves and others) occurs when we reach out even when we aren't feeling entirely whole. It’s not easy, and no one is perfect. But we’ve decided it’s not impossible to brighten the world one smile, one kind word, one blog post at a time. To that end, a few of us writers have established The Kindness Project, starting with a series of inspirational posts.

Recently I started running again. This may not mean much to you, but it's pretty huge to me. I've never been the kind of person to whom running came easily, and I often dismissed it with a snort. But a few years ago, everything blew up. I was so anxious all the time, edging in on my 30s with so many unfulfilled dreams, not understanding how much I'd truly given up when I'd given up writing. I was looking for a change in my life and to lose baby weight, so I started running, even going as far as lifting weights and attempting to get healthy and fit. I'm talking de-toxing sprees, too. And one day I started writing again after years of hiatus. Not that it took away all the stresses, but it was something, and I was proud of myself.

And then summer of 2011 I got thrown into the harsh tumult of publishing in a number of ways. Then I got sick. And slept all the time. And I got sad. And I had to stop running and working out. I stopped caring about a lot of things, slipping into survival mode. Eventually, doctors figured me out and set me straight. But I'm not sure I ever got out of survival mode. I had no idea how fragile I was. So when I went to Haiti? Well.

I shattered.

This is the part of the post where I sit and stare, because it's hard to know what to say next without feeling like I'm cracking my body open and putting myself on display. So. Suffice it to say, it's been a tough 2012.

Now do you understand why it feels so big that I'm running again?

Life is nothing but shifting sand. Sometimes it cushions our fall and gives us a soft place to lie. Sometimes it blisters our feet and blows into our eyes. Gets grit into our mouths and into all the soft creases. But so often we build these castles out of it, hoping they won't get washed away. We try so hard to believe in those castles. So hard. How many hours we spend sitting in that sand, digging and scooping and shaping with our fingers. That's my castle, my dream, my life, we say. Please don't sink.

But always, it seems like the tide comes in eventually. More often and harsher for some of us. And some must stand by as jackholes knock their castles down and stomp them back to dust.

That's when you have to decide: Will you lie there mourning in the ruins, sifting the remains of your castle through your fingers? Or will you build your castle again?

All runners know that there comes a point in every run when you hit a wall; the pain gets too intense, your muscles are straining, and you're so tired, struggling to even breathe. At that point, I'd say 98% of your body and mind wants to quit. But you also know, having run before, if you can just keep going and break through that wall, you'll be able to run forever. When I hit that point, I always change my iTunes to Pitbull's "Castles Made of Sand." Not because there's some magical quality to that song that sprinkles me with super dust. But because it reminds me I can turn my pain to strength. It reminds me that I already have. And it reminds me to keep believing in the castles made of sand. Not because they're everlasting and unsinkable. But because they can always, always be built again.

Be kind to yourself. Believe in your castles. Don't ever stop building them.

Here's your shovel. Here's your pail.

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Be sure to check out all the inspirational posts for THE KINDNESS PROJECT. Want to join us by writing your own inspirational post on kindness? Sign up in the Mr. Linky widget below, grab the button in my sidebar and post. Looking forward to seeing what you have to say.

The Kindness Project: The Transformative Power of Pain and Kindness

Too often kindness is relegated to a random act performed only when we’re feeling good. But an even greater kindness (to ourselves and others) occurs when we reach out even when we aren't feeling entirely whole. It’s not easy, and no one is perfect. But we’ve decided it’s not impossible to brighten the world one smile, one kind word, one blog post at a time. To that end, a few of us writers have established The Kindness Project, starting with a series of inspirational posts. We post the second Wednesday of every month.


The Transformative Power of Pain and Kindness

So I did it. I got the tattoo.

Do good anyway.

On my back of all places. High up, right between my shoulder blades.

I know, right? Right where I can't see it. But I know it's there. I can feel it when someone is standing behind me...in line maybe--or anywhere. It's really weird how that happens. It's like there's a static charge generated in that space between their eyeballs and the words below my neck. People rarely say anything. Only one has said to me, "Mother Teresa?" and I nodded and smiled. But always I know when they've seen it. It's in their eyes, you see. In that wrinkling of their foreheads as they walk away.

Do good anyway.

You know what made me decide to get the tattoo on my back and not on my ribs or my hip as I'd planned? Ultimately, it was the reaction of my tattoo artist upon seeing the paper I handed him with the words I wanted tattooed.

Do good anyway.

The three words were repeated over and over in different fonts, little stars marking the lines of the fonts I liked best. My artist was silent a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. After a while he finally said, kind of quiet, "I don't know what this means to you, but it's exactly what I needed to see today." And then he teared up. No joke. He teared up. "Things have really sucked for me lately." I nodded and said, "I understand." And then we smiled at each other, that knowing, sad smile of understanding shared between people that have been to dark places. We didn't really say much else about the meaning, just discussed some details, like possible placement and pain and please let me take something beforehand. But as I set to walk away, he asked me where it came from. I told him and he got that look in his eyes, that wrinkling in his forehead. "Huh. Mother Teresa?" he said. "Mother Teresa," I said.

As I walked out, I felt him watching me. And I knew the words would get inked on my back. Like, no question.

It's weird how sometimes you think you're doing something for yourself only to realize that it's not just for you. It's not really about you at all. Sort of like the stories I write. It starts out about me, exorcising demons maybe. Getting the stories out of my head and into print where they take up less space. But once they're consumed by others, they're not mine anymore. Not really.

That's what kindness is. It starts out as yours, and then when it's consumed, it's not even about you anymore. Hell, the kindness isn't even yours at that point. The release, though--that's yours. There's a large degree of unburdening that results from kindness. I'm totally serious. It's like that tattoo on my back. I had it inked on my body because I needed it there--I needed the transformative pain of it, that etching of my skin to remind me of the meaningful words. But I don't need to see them to know they're there. The act is done. Pain is over. Now, it's time to pass it on--not the pain, but the transformative power of it.

Let me see if I can better explain in terms that might more readily apply to you. Say you're at the store. Some jackwad runs his cart into the back of your legs and instead of apologizing, he tells you to "Watch it!" Then maybe when you get in line at the checkout, another jackwad cuts in front of you. With coupons and a freaking archaic checkbook. At this point, you're so over it. Why the hell did you think you could just run into Walmart for a gallon of milk which you had to walk all the way to the back of the monstrous store for anyway? It's 9 PM, still hot as blazes outside and you've got a roast of a headache. And then some thousand-year-old lunatic approaches you from behind, his hair standing on end, talking non-stop about his wife's peach cobbler. He sees the peaches in your basket, see, the ones you grabbed on a whim on the way in because they looked so good. "Her cobbler won dozen of prizes back in the day," he says, smiling wide and a little toothless. His breath is a bit foul, actually.

You have a few options at this point. You can brush him off--"excuse me," you could say, ignoring him and pushing your way to the register. Or you can nod, smiling politely, trying really hard not to roll your eyes as you turn away. OR...oooor you can smile. For real. Take a deep, cleansing breath. Let the jackwads go. Forget the heat, forget your aching head. And hold on to the now moment that allows you to walk through an air-conditioned store and buy a cold gallon of milk and beautiful, ripe peaches. In that letting-go unburdening moment, kindness is born. And you will realize this man's wife may be dead. Or not. But he's obviously longing for someone to talk to. And you will say, "Is that so? How did she used to make it?"

The conversation may only last a brief moment. But it's real and genuine, just like the smiles shared between you. And in that very moment of real, genuine kindness, you may both be transformed. Maybe not in a huge way. But every little bit counts. Every little bit helps to shape us.

You never know how your act of kindness--the one that is now his--will affect him. Maybe he'll forget. But it doesn't matter; the kindness isn't yours anymore. The release though--the unburdening? That's yours. And as you walk away, maybe you'll see that wrinkling of his forehead, that look in his eyes.

Or maybe...he'll see that look in yours.

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Be sure to check out the rest of the July posts for The Kindness Project:

Alina Klein                             Katharine Owens
Andrea Hannah                      Len Lambert
Barbara Watson                     Liza Kane
Carolina Valdez Miller            Lola Sharp
Christa Desir                          Lindsay Scott
Claire Hennessy                     Matthew MacNish (available Jul16)
Elana Johnson                        Michele Shaw
Elizabeth Davis                      Sarah Fine
Elizabeth Poole                      Sara Larson
Erica Chapman                      Sara McClung
Jessica Corra                         Sophia Chang
Leigh Moore                          Tracey Neithercott

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P.S. I've announced the winner of my ARC of SKYLARK by Meagan Spooner. Check it out HERE. Maybe it was you? Huge thanks to all who entered! I hope you'll check in for more reviews and giveaways later.

Also, Meagan Spooner is hosting a giveaway of her own. a HUGE giveaway, in which everyone will win something. And if you're lucky, you'll win an ARC of SKYLARK. Go check it out. You don't want to miss this.

  

   

 





 









 

   




   

SKYLARK review and ARC Giveaway

So. It's been a while since I've done any book reviews, for the Bookanistas or otherwise. A lot of reasons for that, not the least of which is that I got a bit burnt out on them. Not reading, just writing about them. Alas. It is what it is.

BUT there's one book that I loved so much it's monopolized my thoughts to such an extent I feel compelled to write about books again. I hate saying that...that I've been too worn out to blog about books (especially since that's not the only/primary reason it's been so long). But be that as it may, it takes reading seriously good books for me to allocate writing time for reviews. This means: you should trust me when I tell you this book I'm writing about is worth buying, reading, and then reading again. This also means: the ARC I'm giving away is not in mint condition because I've read it more than once, but it's still quite lovely and beautiful and reads like a gem. Make sure you enter to win it; short entry form is beneath the review.

SKYLARK by Meagan Spooner

From the ARC: Vis in magia, in vita vi. In magic there is power, and in power, life.
For fifteen years, Lark Ainsley waited for the day when her Resource would be harvested and she would finally be an adult. After the harvest she expected a small role in the regular, orderly operation of the City within the Wall. She expected to do her part to maintain the refuge for the last survivors of the Wars. She expected to be a tiny cog in the larger clockwork of the city.
Lark did not expect to become the City's power supply.
For fifteen years, Lark Ainsley believed in a lie. Now she must escape the only world she's ever known...or face a fate more unimaginable than death.

My Review

SKYLARK is not at all what I expected. Not to say that I actually had any expectations, other than it would be good, but I came away from it with that breathless feeling you get when a book hits you just right. Because you never know how well you'll like a book, really. (Except maybe some blockbuster everyone raves about, and even then you might end up like, "Pshaw, whatev. So he sparkled.")* But like most books that stun you when you're finished--you know, leaving you staring into a blank space not quite back to reality yet--it's really tough to express just why it was so right for you. I suppose, for me, it's because this is just the sort of book I would want to write as well as read. It has all those rich, bookish elements that make you call in sick to work or school just so you can stay in that fictional world of awesome for just a little bit longer.

On a more general plane, this book is a genre buster. Fantasy, sure. Science Fiction, too. Dystopian(ish). Romance. Mystery. A touch of steampunk. Oh, and YA. But it doesn't read like typical YA. Not that typical YA is a bad thing, or that there's even such a thing as typical YA (seriously, there probably isn't). But this is, I don't know. Glorious? Like Daughter of Smoke and Bone kind of amazing, pulling together these genres into a creation all of its own. And the magic--oh my word, the MAGIC. I was blown away. So freaking original how magic works in this world. I'm not sure if I can say this even, because it's not in the summary. So I'm treading carefully here, people. I don't want to spoil it for you. But...imagine a world where magic is everywhere. Where everyone is born a wizard of sorts. Where there are no "muggles." That fate more unimaginable than death? Yeah. Lark's role as a tiny cog in the larger clockwork of the city plays into that whole magic thing. That's what I mean about the mesh of genres--it's an incredible interweaving of fantasy and science fiction--a blend of magic and clockworks and the unfolding of a great mystery with twists that will knock you cross-eyed. You just won't see it coming.

And can I just say...the romance will make you sigh ever so dreamily. But not because it's that love-at-first-sight unrealistic kind of love. But that Catherine and Heathcliff kind of love where your souls, no matter what they are made of, are quite the same. The kind where no matter how much you turn away to save yourself, you must always turn back or risk losing who you are. Sigh sigh SIGH. It's beautiful. But real, too. As real as love can be in a fantasy. And that, folks, is because the writing is so spectacular full of rich details, characters so genuine with complicated ranges of emotions and vivid settings that feel just familiar enough to ground the reader. The thing that sucks, of course, is that just like in Wuthering Heights you have no idea how it will end up for the lovebirds. But that's what makes it so great, too. The end is not a sure thing, other than it will end when the pages stop. You'll just have to read to the end to see how it all turns out for Lark and--wait. I just realized there's no romance mentioned in the summary. Well. There is a dude, FYI. Hope I didn't just ruin that for you.

Ultimately, though, it's Lark's story. She's the hero, and a tough chick at that. Well, she doesn't start out tough. But she'll get there. Man, I love that about this book. No one's born kickass, you know. Stuff has to happen to make you steel. SKYLARK demonstrates just that. But even better? It illustrates that you can fight like a boss no matter how fragile you are. SKYLARK is a book that will stay with you, a book you'll want to come back to over and over--and find something new every time.

SKYLARK is due for release August 1, 2012.

ARC OF SKYLARK International Giveaway

CLICK HERE to Enter to Win an ARC of SKYLARK
(opens in new window)

This giveaway is international and ends Friday, July 6, midnight EST. You must be 13 years old to

enter. If you win, you will need to provide an address for shipment. Under 18's must have parent/guardian permission to enter.


THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED.

The winner the ARC of SKYLARK by Meagan Spooner is:

Sarabara081

Congratulations! Please email me an address to which I can ship your ARC.


THANK YOU to all who entered! Stay tuned for my next giveaway...





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Be sure to check out what the other Bookanistas are raving about today:

Elana Johnson raves about PERCEPTION.
Carolina Valdez Miller celebrates SKYLARK with an ARC Giveaway
Tracy Banghart praises 12 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES
















*I did actually enjoy the sparkly books, people. I'm not hatin. Just hypothesizing. Example-izing, so to speak.

The Kindness Project: Do Good Anyway

Too often kindness is relegated to a random act performed only when we’re feeling good. But an even greater kindness (to ourselves and others) occurs when we reach out even when we aren't feeling entirely whole. It’s not easy, and no one is perfect. But we’ve decided it’s not impossible to brighten the world one smile, one kind word, one blog post at a time. To that end, a few of us writers have established The Kindness Project, starting with a series of inspirational posts. We post the second Wednesday of every month.


Do Good Anyway

I'd like to say that kindness is easy. That it's simple, really.

But. It's not even easy to talk about always. That's what I'm discovering.

Last month when a bunch of us were first discussing the creation of The Kindness Project, several writers expressed their concern that they didn't feel kind--that they weren't "qualified" when it came to matters of kindness. And you know what I told them? "You're one of the kindest people I know." I suppose it's a matter of perception, really. And self-perception is often a bit skewed.

But not always. Sometimes we're truly not kind. Sometimes, we're complete jackwads. And the truth is I don't feel qualified to do this, to talk about kindness as a conscious choice. A lifetime habit. A matter of existence. I've never struggled so much with a blog post as I have with this one. Because who the hell am I to be talking about kindness? I don't know anything about being good.

Let me confess. I've not been right for a long time. Like, all kinds of sad. Especially since I came back from Haiti. It's been a miserable, boiling pit of heartbreak and helplessness. I've blamed myself, feeling, well...guilty. I didn't do enough; I made poor choices; I'm not and will never be enough. It's hard to explain without going into the thick of it, which would take a long time and I'd have to leave a lot of blank spaces for you at the end of it all. But I told myself this would be a good post for The Kindness Project. I'd talk about forgiveness, see. Like, forgiving the self as a matter of kindness--accepting the self, faults and frailties included. So I sat down last night and stared into my video camera because no matter how hard I tried to write it down, the words just wouldn't come out right. And I stared for hours. I finally gave up at 3:30 AM when I realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't let myself go into that sad place, not then. I've tried so hard not to think about it, you know? And really, I'm not at a place of forgiveness yet, not for me. I still feel so raw, so wrong. So how can I inspire you to forgive yourself?

The problem with feeling like you're no good at all is that you turn away from things you love. You don't deserve them, you think. Or you don't know how to look at them without being reminded of the wrongness in you. Your friends. Your family. Your spouse.Your church. Your writing. Freaking cupcakes.

I've denied myself all these things.

And just as bad? You start thinking that you're not really capable of kindness. People will see right through it, right? They'll see what a fraud you are. Who do you think you are with all your pretenses?

It doesn't matter how logical you are. How wise. How experienced. It's hard to feel like you might be judged for doing bad things. But it's even harder to feel like you can do good things and it means nothing at all, that everyone will question your motives. Or worse, that YOU might.

Just tonight I was texting my friend Liz (at 11:30 PM) that I still couldn't get myself to blog about kindness. Kindness block, she called it. I talked to her a little about why. And you know what she did? She reminded me of the tattoo I'm getting: "Do good anyway."

Huh. Yeah. Yeah.


People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

--Mother Teresa

The thing is, it doesn't matter how good or bad you feel inside or what people will think, or if they will question your motives. It doesn't even matter if the reasons for doing good and being kind are screwed up. It only matters that you do good. The things you've done in your past are just that--YOUR PAST. The bad choices you make now and tomorrow and after may not be erased by the good that you do, but you must do good anyway. 

Because the bad, the guilt, the wrong inside does not erase the good that you do. So do it. Do good anyway.

Be sure to check out the other June posts for The Kindness Project

 Sophia Chang                  
 Erica Chapman                      
Jessica Corra                        
Elizabeth Davis                       
Christa Desir                          
Sarah Fine                              
Claire Hennessy                     
Elana Johnson                        
Amie Kaufman                        
Liza Kane

Alina Klein

Sara Larson
Matthew MacNish
Sara McClung
Leigh Moore
Tracey Neithercott 

Katharine Owen 

Elizabeth Poole 

Lola Sharp

Michele Shaw

Meagan Spooner

Carolina Valdez Miller

Feeling inspired to join us? Grab our banner and inspire a little kindness.

Book Stuff

Not my book stuff. Yet. But I wanted to bring your attention to some really cool book news.

First, check out this brilliant cover for Kimberley Griffiths Little's newest book

WHEN THE BUTTERFLIES CAME

Isn't it gorgeous!!!

To be released Spring 2013 from Scholastic

Synopsis cover copy: Everybody thinks Tara Doucet has the perfect life. But in reality, Tara’s life is anything but perfect: Her dear Grammy Claire has just passed away, her mother is depressed and distant, and she and her sister Riley can’t seem to agree on anything. But when mysterious and dazzling butterflies begin to follow her around after Grammy Claire’s funeral, Tara just knows in her heart that her grandmother has left her one final mystery to solve.

A strange butler shows up to take Tara and Riley to Grammy Claire’s house, where Tara finds a stack of keys and detailed letters from Grammy Claire herself. Note by note, Tara learns unexpected truths about her grandmother’s life. As the letters grow more ominous and the keys more difficult to decipher, Tara realizes that the secrets she must uncover could lead to mortal danger. And when Tara and Riley are swept away to the beautiful island of Chuuk to hear their grandmother’s will, Tara discovers the most shocking truth of all — one that will change her life forever.

From Kimberley Griffiths Little comes a magical, breathtaking mystery full of loss and love, family and faith.

I cannot WAIT for this one. Kimberley's writing sweeps me in every time. Here's my review of Kimberley's THE HEALING SPELL. I'll try to get a review of CIRCLE OF SECRETS (Scholastic, OCT 2011) up soon.

FYI, Kimberley is giving away 3 ARCs of WHEN THE BUTTERFLIES CAME along with 3 signed copies each of THE HEALING SPELL and CIRCLE OF SECRETS on her blog. You only have 2 DAYS LEFT to enter! So check it out--> Kimberley Griffiths Little GIVEAWAY.

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And in other book news: Elana Johnson's latest YA novel just released!

SURRENDER

And folks, I was blown away. Really impressed by this one. You've got to check it out. It's not a sequel, but a companion novel to POSSESSION, this one from the POV of Raine, Vi's roommate. Full review to come.

Released June 5, 2012 from Simon and Schuster

Synopsis (Goodreads): Forbidden love, intoxicating power, and the terror of control…

Raine has always been a good girl. She lives by the rules in Freedom. After all, they are her father’s rules: He’s the Director. It’s because of him that Raine is willing to use her talent—a power so dangerous, no one else is allowed to know about it. Not even her roommate, Vi.

All of that changes when Raine falls for Gunner. Raine’s got every reason in the world to stay away from Gunn, but she just can’t. Especially when she discovers his connection to Vi’s boyfriend, Zenn. Raine has never known anyone as heavily brainwashed as Vi. Raine’s father expects her to spy on Vi and report back to him. But Raine is beginning to wonder what Vi knows that her father is so anxious to keep hidden, and what might happen if she helps Vi remember it. She’s even starting to suspect Vi’s secrets might involve Freedom’s newest prisoner, the rebel Jag Barque. 


Purchase your copy here.

Make sure you stop by Elana's blog and check out her supremo Never Surrender blogfest, in which you can blog about a time that you didn't surrender AND in doing so, enter to win one of three $15 B&N gift cards. It's already begun, so hurry! And while you're at it, check out this super cute video about her launch day fun, originally posted at the League of Extraordinary Writers blog.


About Elana: Elana's work including POSSESSION, REGRET, and SURRENDER is available from Simon & Schuster wherever books are sold. She is the author of From the Query to the Call, an ebook that every writer needs to read before they query, which can be downloaded for free on her website. She runs a personal blog on publishing and is a founding author of the QueryTracker blog. She blogs regularly at The League of Extraordinary Writers, co-organizes WriteOnCon, and can be found on Twitter and Facebook.

She wishes she could experience her first kiss again, tell the mean girl where to shove it, and have cool superpowers like reading minds and controlling fire. To fulfill her desires, she writes young adult science fiction and fantasy.

Love this girl! And love her work! 

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And in non-book related news, tomorrow I and a bunch of other writers/authors will be posting for THE KINDNESS PROJECT, a series of inspirational posts on kindness as a conscious choice, and not necessarily as a random act. If you'd like to be a part of this project, please shoot me an email. Or just grab our banner and post away this Wednesday, June 13, spreading a little kindness. We'd love to have you join us.