Enter It: Last Line Contest

I've entered what feels like a million free advance-copy book giveaways. Maybe I can help out my karma by holding my own contest! But since I don't have any fancy ARCs you'll have to settle for a $20 Amazon.com gift certificate to your email address.

Details:
Writers agonize over the first line of their manuscripts. Is it hooky enough? Does it set the tone? Should it be dialogue? Should we start mid-scene or with description? But to be honest, I don't really care about the first line. I freak out over my manuscript's last line. Is it sufficient? Does it leave the reader satisfied with the current novel yet yearning for the next one?

So, to enter the contest, comment below with the last line of your favorite novel (I know, I know, who can pick a favorite...for $20...you can try) and the novel's name. Entries will be accepted until midnight, next Tuesday March 3rd PST.

The winner will be selected at random (although I reserve the right to select a runner up for favorite posted line.)

So...favorite novel and its last line...GO!

* Someone asked and the answer is: yes, you can post as anonymous, enter your name in the post and I'll ask you for your email if you're drawn as the winner.

Read It: Beat The Reaper

There's so much buzz off this book I wanted to hate it.

The author, local SF resident Josh Bazell, wrote the story while finishing med school cuz apparently he doesn't need sleep. Not only that, rumor is he's snagged a cool mill in advances. I want to hate him, too, but he writes too well. Dammit.

The protag's an ex-mob hit guy, but you kinda forgive him cuz he only got into the mob to find out who killed his grandparents before he's sucked into the lifestyle. Yeah, he realizes the irony. He falls in love, experiences a change of heart about killing and gets betrayed by his mob buddies, sending him straight into the arms of witness protection.

While serving out his new life as a doctor, he's recognized by a mob patient who threatens to tattle if he dies or doesn't make it through surgery. The book follows the protag as he runs around the hospital trying to do his job and, you guessed it, beat the reaper after his own head.

The book is awesome. The protag reminds me a bit of Chuck Palahniuk's heroes but a little more cut and dry good. Yeah, I know - weird that I'd think of a ruthless killer as "good" but somehow it works. The hypocondriac in me freaked at all the med lingo but it was so compelling I couldn't stop reading. A lot of tidbits come in the form of overused footnotes which I got into as the novel progressed.

The weak point - as with most action-y thriller dude novels, is the romance that supposedly turns the protag's life around. The girl is a flat character and their relationship bizarrely improbable, especially given the series of events that bring them together and eventually apart (not a spoiler, you know upfront he's not with anyone before dwelving into his past with the girl).

You can forgive this because it's a first person POV novel and you can assume one or all of the following:
1. The girl's not perfect but that's how he sees her so that's what we get.
2. They may have had a more complex relationship but he's romanticizing it.
3. He's dealing with life or death and doesn't have time to serve up flowers and candy with his past.

Fine.

A movie's in the works although you'll wonder how they'll translate some scenes and I wouldn't recommend reading on a full stomach unless you're good with gore, but you definitely have to read it cuz everybody's going to be talking about it and you don't want to get left behind. Trust me.

Today Is Not Valentine's Day

When I asked a friend why she and her husband didn't celebrate this past Valentine's Day, she said it was because they try to make every day Valentine's Day. (cue: awwwwwwwwww)

I still need commercial Hallmark-approved reminders to tell the people around me I love them or I look forward to the next year of their life the same way I need my Outlook calender to tell me what I'm doing in five minutes or tomorrow or next week. I'd love to be schedule-free. I'd love to have a simple enough life that I don't need reminders for meetings, much less for appreciating my family, friends and coworkers.

Until then, I aspire for meaningful, lifelong relationships. My latest inspiration is my great-aunt Cleo and Uncle Pat who were featured in their local newspaper for a milestone 70 years of marriage. For the record, my great-aunt is rocking her look - a blue pattern dress, gray pearl earrings and a sophisticated flapper 'do. I hope I look as awesome as she does when I hit 90.

The lesson here is that if we're friends - guess what - you're probably stuck with me for life. The only way you're getting out of this is with a toe tag. Yeah, take it as a threat. So for today, which is not Valentine's Day or any special day, let me tell you my family, friends, and husband - I love you guys!

What Am I and What Font Should That Be In?

Ever since I got a whiff of Sophie Littlefield's Tiffany themed embossed business cards from Crane, I've dreamed of my own. I justify them for a writing career with no revenue by telling myself that startups operate in the red all the time.

The question is: what would my profession be?

Author - Writer - Storyteller

What's the difference and does it matter?

On Wednesday, Nathan Bransford's blog posed the question "When does one become a writer?".

Opinions were varied, discussion was heated, and dictionary.com was of no help. Majority consensus was that committing pen to paper makes you a writer, but calling yourself an author requires publication or at least a final product.

Further complicating matters is Stephen King who in a recent interview said, "Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn." He seemed to concede that that her storytelling is on target. Is it safer to call myself a storyteller if my writing skills haven't been vetted?

Does one term garner more respect over the other or infer a level of professional success? The simplest solution seems to be sticking with name, email and web address.

What do other writer/author/storytellers have on their business cards?

Read it: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking it's not February 14th, the official launch date of my blog, so why am I posting? Well, I'm fickle and can be easily bought, so when young adult author Jennifer Lynn Barnes posted a blog offering a free book raffle entry for online book reviews, I caved.

I want you to read Sherman Alexie's semi-autobiographical 2007 National Book Award winner - The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. Yes, it's a young adult novel, but to my adult readers, I guarantee it has as much heart and humor bang-per-page as whatever Oprah's got on her list.

I feel especially compelled to recommend it because during a recent weekend visit to Arizona, I dropped in on a chain store and requested the book for a friend. The response from the bookstore's "information" desk: "What's that?" (This was the same response to my request for Jellicoe Road, this year's American Library Association's Printz recipient.)

So, my answer to "what's that?" is the following:

The story chronicles the freshman year of a sickly kid from an Indian reservation who transfers to an all white school. He's branded a traitor by his people and an outcast by his new classmates. The author doesn't shy away from the realities of rez life: the alcoholism, the lack of employment, the crappy school system, and while the protagonist gets a semi-hollywood happy ending he earns it by taking a lot of knocks along the way .

The story is written in first person male point of view, my least favorite point of view of all time, but the protag's sense of humor and comic sketches (illustrated by Ellen Forney) made me forget how much I dislike it. I blew through the book in a lunch hour during which I cried and laughed out loud in a public courtyard smack in the middle of a financial district at its busiest time. Sure, I got a few stares, and hopefully some people took note of what I was reading.