Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Today it's my pleasure to host Mandy Hubbard debut author of the very charming Prada and Prejudice. Like her main character Callie, Mandy has also struggled with her own fashion issues. Mandy says:
I was never a big risk taker in terms of fashion and beauty. I couldn't figure out mascara (let alone eye liner), and I was so tall that jeans were almost always high waters on me.
I do remember in 8th grade, taking a daring fashion risk: I wore jean shorts with nylons, tube socks, and combat boots. And I felt cute! My BFF definitely raised an eyebrow at me and wondered what I was thinking, but one of our more popular friends really loved the look. It still stands out in my mind—feeling bold and crazy for a day, walking down the halls. I wish I'd taken more risks instead of trying so hard to blend into the walls!
About Prada and Prejudice
Fifteen year old Callie just wants to impress the popular girls when she buys a pair of Prada heels on her class trip to London. She didn’t plan on tripping, conking her head, and waking up in 1815! Now she’s wearing corsets with her designer pumps, eating bizarre soups, and breaking up engagements. If only the nineteen year old Duke of Harksbury wasn’t so bloody annoying, she might have a little fun in Austen-Era England… Buy the book here!
About Mandy Hubbard
Mandy Hubbard grew up on a dairy farm outside Seattle, where she refused to wear high heels until homecoming—and hated them so much she didn’t wear another pair for five years. A cowgirl at heart, she enjoys riding horses and quads and singing horribly to the latest country tune. She’s currently living happily ever after with her husband (who, sadly, is not a Duke) and her daughter (who is most definitely a princess). Prada and Prejudice is her first novel. Learn more about Mandy at http://mandyhubard.com
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Growing up, I always had a bump on my nose. It wasn't a big deal -- no one pointed or laughed or shot me any horrified looks over it or anything. It just bugged me sometimes, like when I saw my profile pictures or spent a few hours before bed staring at it with a handheld mirror under all possible lighting conditions.
As high school progressed, I traded in my nose fetish for more important fixations, like single-handedly discovering the best big-hair products and cleavage-enhancing bras.
Fast forward a few years to my sophomore year of college. I was 19. I finally had awesome hair and pretty decent cleavage, sans push-up bra. And those old nose worries? Ancient history! I mean, who cares about a little ol' nose bump when I’ve got a C-cup, right? But then one stupid night, we were all goofing around in the dorm and suddenly... *snap!* My nose connected with someone's forearm! Oh, the agony! I was on my knees in an instant, holding my hands over my face, tears flowing, no sound coming out of my shocked-open mouth.
There was a lot of blood. Stars. Piercing pain. And then a reallysuperfast ride to the local hospital, where I spent approximately 8 hours waiting for an intern to tell me that my nose wasn't technically broken, just super swollen. He said I should go back to campus and ice it up for 20 minutes every hour for the next few days. Um, okay. It hurt *really* bad, but this guy was finishing *medical* school whereas I could barely pass my world history class. I shut up. I nodded solemnly. I headed back to my dorm, ice pack pressed to my aching schnozz, tears still fresh in my eyes. Yep. Roomies, let the pity party commence!
Ten days later, I received a call from a nurse at the hospital who was looking over my files…
Warning. This story is about to get *really* ugly. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip this whole paragraph. And the next one. Okay? Ready? Turns out the intern misread my X-rays. My nose was in fact broken. And after ten days of icing, the bone had started healing wrong, forming an even bigger bump than the one I’d all but forgotten years earlier. I cried, insisting that I didn’t care, telling a new doctor that I would rather live with a lumpy, bumpy, ginormously crooked nose than deal with any more medical stuff. And this doctor, this sage, gentle, 30-something-year-old doctor, rested his warm hands on my shoulders, met my teary gaze, and spoke softly when he said, “Sarah Ockler, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had. I’ve treated eight-year-olds with more maturity than you. Your nose is broken. The bone isn’t healing properly. And the only way we can help you is to break it again and reset it. There are no other options.”
Between Doctor Tough Love and my mother, I ultimately lost the battle and submitted to the re-breaking, which involved 2 large men holding me down as the doctor jammed a giant needle between my eyes and pressed hard on my nose until the bone snapped while I tried to windmill-punch them all in the nuts, as hard as I could. I mean, I had to do my part in preventing these freaky white-gowned sadomasochists from ever having kids! Ugh!
After the re-breaking ceremony, I swear I cried for like a month straight. My face hurt so bad! Even worse – I had to go around campus with giant, cross-wise bandages over my nose like a washed-up hockey player or boxing drop-out or some other equally unattractive oaf! I tried, but girls? All the great hair and cleavage in the world couldn’t hide those big brown bandages!
Anyway. After enduring two months of excruciating pain and embarrassment, I finally had a straight nose. Despite my earlier insubordination, the break healed perfectly, and the original bump – the one I’d mostly forgotten about in the first place – was totally gone. Yay!
Fifteen years later, I’m slightly less obsessive about my hair, my cleavage, and my nose. But I’ll always be grateful that Doctor Tough Love refused to indulge my worse-than-an-eight-year-old temper tantrum, enduring my rolling eyes and violent threats and failed attempts to sterilize him, all in the name of fixing my broken nose.
And thanks, Sydney, for hosting my guest nose!
About Twenty Boy Summer
While on vacation in California, sixteen-year-old best girlfriends Anna and Frankie conspire to find a boy for Anna’s first summer romance, but Anna harbors a painful secret that threatens their lighthearted plan and their friendship.
TWENTY BOY SUMMER is a debut YA novel that explores what it truly means to love someone, what it means to grieve, and ultimately, how to make the most of every single moment this world has to offer. Buy the book at Indiebound here or at Barnes & Noble.
About Sarah Ockler
Sarah Ockler wrote and illustrated her first book at age six—an adaptation of Steven Spielberg's E.T. Still recovering from her own adolescence, Sarah now writes for young adults. After several years of wandering between New York City and Denver, she and her husband Alex now live in Upstate New York with lots of books and an ever-expanding collection of sea glass. Twenty Boy Summer is Sarah's first novel. Visit her online at www.sarahockler.com.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
First I have to say, if you're going to publish a book make sure you have lots of friends. Every time a familiar face came into the store, I felt a sparkle of gratitude. Everyone from my writing group stopped in to say hello. Friends I haven't spent much time with since our kids were toddlers bought books. And many, many of my husband's colleagues came (having a well-liked husband helps too).
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Today it's my pleasure to welcome Aprilynne Pike, debut author of Wings--and I would tell you how much I loved her book, but my teenager swiped it and disappeared with it for hours and hours, emerging starry-eyed only to feed. That's a pretty high recommendation at my house!
Aprilynne kindly shares one of her beauty Do's (Or a beauty ouch, if you ask me!)
I have always been a bit of an eyebrow plucker, but in college (yes, it took me that long) I discovered waxing. Ah, it was a glorious day! After trying it on a few less conspicuous areas, I decided to do my eyebrows. I did pretty well, got a nice curved line, but I forgot about gravity. Specifically the force that pulls the melty wax downward and onto your eyelashes. So after I was done waxing my eyebrows I had to get it off of my eyelashes without pulling THEM out! I managed to leave at least half of my eyelashes intact using a bunch of baby oil. From that, I learned to wax whatever else I wanted to, but to get my eyebrows done professionally. :)
Aprilynne Pike's WINGS is the first of four books about an ordinary girl named Laurel who discovers she is a faerie sent among humans to guard the gateway to Avalon. When Laurel is thrust into the midst of a centuries-old battle between faeries and trolls, she's torn between a human and a faerie love, as well as her loyalties to both worlds. To buy your own copy of Wings click here.
About Aprilynne Pike
Aprilynne Pike has been spinning faerie stories since she was a child with a hyper-active imagination. At the age of twenty she received her BA in Creative Writing from Lewis-Clark State College in Lewiston, Idaho. When not writing, Aprilynne can usually be found at the gym; she also enjoys singing, acting, reading, and working with pregnant moms as a childbirth educator and doula. Aprilynne currently lives with her husband and three kids in Utah, and dreams of warmer climates. To find out more about Aprilynne see http://www.aprilynnepike.com/