So, I just found out that Nathan Bransford is donating by the pound, er, comment, to Heifer International on his blog. And I figured, what the heck–why not spread the holiday beef, um, cheer, and play along? (Seriously–I’m not touching that last sentence with a ten-foot candy cane. My fellow Purgy AWers will know what I mean when I say GIANT PORK CHOP).

Here’s how it works: for every comment I receive between now and midnight tonight December 31st, Pacific time, I’ll donate $1 to Heifer International. We’ll cap it at 200 comments–basically because I know that ginormic holiday Visa bill is already out there somewhere , just biding it’s time before swooping down and giving me a coronary. But that’s another depressingly morbid thought topic. Oh, and also, because that’s what Amanda did, the cool OPWFTer who clued me in to this great idea.

I mean, seriously, wouldn’t it be cool to say you’ve given someone a cow for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Christmukkah? Even if it’s only like, half a leg? (I know, I know–morbid again. Sorry.)

So, in the comments section, just type your name, city/state you’re from, and tell me either your favorite holiday yummy OR what you’d name one of Santa’s reindeer, if given the chance.

Thanks for stopping by!

Okay, so here’s another scene from The Demon Guard I worked on recently with my fellow AWers in FNW. (*shout out to my FNW peeps*).

The set-up: The MC Summer is in Magics class, where she and Shade are both in the magically-challenged group. She’s a little skeptical of Professor Taggert’s teaching methods. (Oops–should also add–she’s been hearing voices for the past few days.)

Taggert noticed Shade at the same time I did. “Mr. Freemont—that is no way to help yourself tap into your innate abilities. Please, set the pen down and close your eyes.”

Shade capped his pen with a huge flourish and closed his eyes. An instant later, he started humming under his breath. I tried not to snort when I recognized the tune: an old Police song called Every Little Thing She Does is Magic.

“Ms.Chance? The same goes for you.”

I hastily squeezed my own eyes shut.

Taggert’s raspy baritone suddenly turned soft and soothing. “Now, try to envision yourself in the most relaxing place you can imagine. For many it’s water, but some of you with an affinity for other elements might feel drawn to them. Just let your brain take you where it wants to go. Let your muscles relax. Your feet and toes, then your legs—release them. Let them drift away.”

His voiced continued in its mellow pitch, and surprisingly, my body followed his commands. My muscles relaxed and softened into liquid mush at his prompting, like I was lying in the backyard of our old house, soaking up the heat of the sun. A few moments later, and I felt Mom’s presence there, smiling down at me. Relief and happiness crashed over me in tranquil waves. So warm. So peaceful.

“Don’t chase the Magic—let it come to you. Let it slip softly into your mind, filling you up completely. Do you feel it?”

I felt—something. A distant humming, but soothing this time. Warmer.

“Good. Now, gently try to touch the Magic with your mind. Let it lead you to where it wants you to go.”

The humming grew louder. I was still in the backyard, but suddenly, I heard voices. Lots of voices. Some happy, some sad. More and more chimed in, until they filled my brain, expanded it. Too many voices. All shrieking, talking at the same time, commanding me to listen.

The voices intensified even more. They shoved against the inside of my skull, swooping with a crazed frenzy down into the rest of my body, until every inch of me thrummed with electric pain. The pressure—God. It was killing me. It was too loud. Too much.

A gut-wrenching scream stabbed into my head, drowning out the voices entirely. I ricocheted out of my chair and jerked my eyes open. Only to find my hands plastered over my ears, and the entire classroom staring. At me.

Well, um–I kinda think the title says it all. Crap. Now what do I do?

Oh, yeah–I guess I could give you a linky:

Old People Writing for Teens

Oh, and come back soon–I’ve got more great writing tips to share from the Big Sur Children’s Writing Workshop.

Sparkle Out.

Okay, so I was named in this Thanksgiving meme by Amy Bai over at PurplePatch, about the 10 Things I Am Thankful For. Yeah, yeah, I realize I’m a wee bit late, but just go with it, okay? We’ll pretend it’s still timely. Anyway, every even numbered item has to be related to writing, and the rest can be about other stuff. Like mounted heads.

And we’re off!

1. I’m thankful this is my blog and nobody can give me smack for not doing this meme on time. My blog, my timeline. Yay!

2. I’m thankful for the awesome 10 inch laptop hubs bought me for X-Mas last year. It’s super light, which is a must, since I cart around about a billion pounds of paper in the same bag, and oh-so-cute. Although, its cuteness factor actually gets in the way of writing sometimes—people often interrupt me mid-thought to ask me ridiculous questions. Like, “Does that really work?” (um, no—this is just my new mime routine) or “Wow—can you SEE that screen?” (of course not—computers with actual visuals are passé). Maybe I need to knit a disguise for it—like, a little computer sweater. That way, they’ll think I’m nuts and leave me alone.

3. I’m thankful my house hasn’t burned down, flooded, or otherwise imploded while hubs has been on kid duty lately. If you’re familiar with my family life, you’ll understand.

4. I’m thankful for my amazing writing peeps on AW—both my Purgies and my OPWFTers. There’s no way I could undergo this crazy writing process without you—at least, not and preserve my sanity. No, the latter part of my statement is not up for debate. Oh, and I’m especially thankful for freaky Krampus Kringle making an appearance in the forums last night—because it means somebody’s sense of humor is more warped than mine.

5. I’m thankful for my wonderful family—the kidlets, the hubs, and yes, even the doggage–although there are times I think the small demented Rottie might look good mounted over my fireplace. In fact, there are times when I think hubs and the kids might look good there, too. But that’s only like 5% of the time—okay, 6%. Which means I don’t think about how peaceful the house would be if they were stuffed and mounted like, 94% of the time—and I consider that a major victory. And no–my sanity, still not up for discussion.

6. I’m thankful for Boudin, the place where I go to write and terrorize the staff. Their caffeinated iced-tea has saved me from permanently imprinting my keyboard on my forehead on many occasions. I’m especially thankful for the baker there, who gives me free chocolate chip cookies.

7. I’m thankful for chocolate, without which the baker could not give me free cookies. We wouldn’t want to put a damper on her altruism. Or my expanding tushy.

8. I’m thankful for my laser printer, cranky and decrepit as it is. Even if the blasted thing does decide to take unscheduled breaks halfway through printing my manuscript—only to start over from the beginning.

9. I’m thankful for my AWESOME husband, who is more supportive of my writing than I could ever hope for. Also, I’m convinced there’s no other father alive who spends this much time with his kids and enjoys it so much. No, you may not have him—go find your own.

10. I’m thankful for all of the wonderful YA writers, agents, editors—everyone in the industry who makes those YA books come to life. Without you, there’d be no wonderful stories to read—and no dreams of publishing my own one day.

Here’s a scene I worked on in Friday Night Writes with my AW peeps awhile back.? Still needs some finessing, but I think it’s kind of fun.? Hope you enjoy!? ?

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? My mouth gaped open, and my heart froze in my chest. Holy shit—it was porn. Only somehow, I was the freaking star.