Maria, the heroine of Supergirl Mixtapes by Meagan Brothers, is all about the music! But she’s all about the music…in the 90s. Some of us were still kids in the 90s! Want to know what Maria would be listening to? Then check out some of her favorites below!
Author Cat Hellisen invites readers to the fantastical city of Pelimburg with her debut novel, When the Sea is Rising Red. It’s a place with teashops and family loyalty—but also magic and vampires. Want to know who you’d be in this alluring world? Then take this short quiz to find out!
Your mother tells you that you’re to be part of an arranged marriage. How do you react?
A. Jump from Pelim’s Leap, or better, fake your own death and run away. If there’s one thing you can’t stomach, it’s the thought of losing what little freedom you have now.
B. Agree, even though you don’t want to. It’s not like you have any alternative since you’re looked down upon pretty much everywhere you go.
C. Laugh. Arranged marriage? Who’d want to arrange a marriage with little old me?
Everyone in Pelimburg’s got their own opinions on magic, but what’s yours?
A. Magic should be controlled by the elite. They’re the ones who know how to use it to protect everyone.
B. Magic is something that should be used for the greater good—but often isn’t.
C. Anyone should be able to use magic. It isn’t fair to punish the non-elite born with the ability.
You’re on your own for the first time in the slums of the city. What are your thoughts on surviving the night?
A. Hope you’ll find help or make it out alive. Without any weapons or magic, you’re pretty much defenseless.
B. I don’t have anything to worry about. People will leave me alone once they realize who I am.
C. I can take care of myself. I know how to defend myself with threats, and fists, if it comes to that.
How would you describe your everyday life?
A. It’s a life of many privileges but few freedoms.
B. It hasn’t been easy living with my family, but I’ve come to appreciate the luxuries I can get at home.
C. Work, work, work. At least I’ve got one day off!
You’ve just heard that a daughter of a High House has jumped from Pelim’s Leap. What’s your immediate reaction?
A. Sadness. She was a good friend of yours, and now you’ll never see her again.
B. Pity and empathy. You know she had so much, but you also know what it’s like to feel as powerless as she did.
C. Fear. Jumping from Pelim’s Leap is bad luck. She’ll bring the Red Death on us again.
In a social situation, someone offers you some liquor. What do you do?
A. I probably shouldn’t be drinking vai, but…there’s scriv in it. And scriv is something that I always crave.
B. I’ll drink if I feel like it, but I’ve got much better quality wine at home. My family does own a vineyard.
C. Drink up and live life to its fullest!
A vampire invites you to a party. What will you wear?
A. A fancy dress in the latest style.
B. Whatever I feel like. The party’s at my house after all.
C. I can scrounge up an old dress or borrow from a friend. Hopefully no one will care that it’s from last season.
You see something you’d like to buy in the market square. The vendor offers to sell if to you for three brass bits. How do you respond?
A. What are three brass bits to me? It’s probably a piece of junk, but I can afford it, even if it’s overpriced.
B. The vendor will refuse to sell anything to me once he recognizes who I am.
C. If the vendor won’t take my offer of one brass bit, he isn’t making any money from me today!
Now, it’s time for the results! If you got:
I’m a cartoonist, not an actor. I would rather fight a grizzly bear with a fork than act in a play. The oldest of my three younger brothers did the acting thing in high school, and I was very proud of his ability to stand up in front of an audience and not puke.
I was on the stage crew. You know, those anonymous people who scurry about on stage before a play begins, setting up the sets and tweaking the lights? That was me, the 3rd one from the left, wearing ninja black. I liked being on the stage crew. It was low pressure, and I got to be artistic, painting fake trees and fake stone walls. It was fun and laid back, and mostly involved me chatting with friends while we leisurely slapped paint on plywood. We were not the most ambitious stage crew.
Until … the Sears Drama Festival. The most prestigious competitive high school drama festival of a small geographical area southeast of Toronto. My school even had arch-rivals, the Festival’s hosts: Burlington Central High School. How we hated and feared them, mostly because they were really really good, and won every year. Their actors were true stage actors, staring passionately out over the audience as their elaborately staged plays utilized dance and smoke machines to tell stories about dystopian future societies, political unrest in Argentina and gangland Chicago. There was always at least one dramatic death scene, expertly acted. We had to take them out.
Everyone rallied. We chose a Canadian play that had won some sort of award (prestigious!), assigned parts to our most talented actors (my brother got the lead), and the stage crew and I began work on a multi-leveled abstract stage which would represent the tortured psyche of my brother’s character, a shell-shocked soldier. We knew the Festival judges would eat the play up.
Performance night came and I scurried around on stage, organizing the set. I purposefully didn’t look at the audience, but couldn’t resist sneaking a peek when we finished setting up. The house was packed with fellow teenage drama enthusiasts. It was going to be amazing.
The play went off without a hitch. Passion! Drama! Explosions! Dark pasts! And the set looked GREAT.
Burlington Central won. Again. As they had every year for the last six billion years, which is the exact number of years the Sears Drama Festival has been the most important festival in a small area southeast of Toronto. I liked being in the stage crew because it was laid back and fun, but I’d worked hard on the play and for a while had actually cared about winning. My state of mind could be described as “majorly bummed.”
Next year, my school won the Sears Drama Festival. Without me, as I’d graduated the previous spring, but I like to think they won it for me. (They didn’t.)
I grew up in a small upstate New York town—not entirely unlike the one in my first novel, The Stalker Chronicles—so I’ve always been fascinated by the things we small towners do to pass the time. In Jamestown, as teenagers, my friends (oh, let’s be honest, my two friends and I) drove around aimlessly, gossiped constantly, and ate daily at either Perkin’s or The Taco Hut. The eating and the driving were really just excuses for gossiping, so sometimes I think all I did when I was a teenager was talk about other people, and hope and pray that somewhere, someone, hopefully in the next booth over, was talking about me. Like most Americans, and any woman who spent any time in a high school, I know a lot about gossip. High schools are kind of like small towns anyway—the bad food, the petty intrigues, and the small spaces. Also, I read Us magazine, which makes me a total, um, expert.
If you were at all like me in high school (and I certainly hope to spare you that humiliation), you spent a lot of time being either made fun of or flat out ignored. I was tormented for having a bad perm, for playing the clarinet, for falling off of a rope in gym class, and for revealing that I liked a certain guy—you know, your usual high school stuff. But the powerful, beautiful people mostly ignored me—in my school they were football players, football cheerleaders, starting basketball players, one rich tennis champion, and two or three girls from the swim team. Aside from these occasional moments of torment I often felt invisible.
So when I started to think about the protagonist of my first young adult novel, Cammie Bliss, I realized I was interested in the intersection of the highly visible and the totally ignored. Cammie, who is defined almost entirely by her reputation as a “stalker”—someone who is relentless in her pursuit of love, who continuously humiliates and embarrasses herself to get the attention of boys, and who routinely goes “too far”—feels both very visible and of totally no consequence. The head cheerleader, Kristi Day, whispers something about her when she passes in the cafeteria, but it’s a second in a cheerleader’s life, a throwaway moment. It’s not like she really sees Cammie, and yet she gets something right. Cammie feels this—and she wants it to change. She wants to be known for the right reasons, so when a new boy moves to town—Toby—she thinks she has a shot at becoming a better person.
I am also really interested in embarrassment. I wrote my dissertation about Seventeen magazine, which is basically a catalogue/history of embarrassment for girls—both self-inflicted and culture-induced. I think we’re all too hung up on feeling embarrassed all of the time about the stuff we do—having periods, going swimming, talking to people we think are cute, wearing clothes, stalking on Facebook—so I wanted to write a book about a girl who is pretty comfortable humiliating herself, who maybe has a bit of a humiliation addiction.
Welcome to the future. The world of Cinder is one populated by humans like you and me, but also artificial intelligence as well as other intelligent life forms. Want to know what your life would be like in New Beijing? Then take this short quiz and find out!
You’re invited to the royal coronation. How do you want to look?
A. It’s time to splurge on a fancy outfit to catch some important eyes and win myself a place among true royalty.
B. It’ll be difficult, but I think I can find something to hide most of my imperfections. At the very least, I hope no one will be able to tell that I’m…different.
C. I will be the most beautiful person in attendance. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince anyone who looks at me.
How would others describe you?
A. Excitable—especially when it comes to the royal family
B. Thrifty—I can make do with what I come by, which has made life a little easier
C. Persuasive—I’m very good at getting others to agree with my opinions
How do you react when you hear any drastic news about the plague?
A. As long as I don’t get the plague, I can’t be too bothered, but it does make me nervous every time I hear about a breakout closer to home.
B. Dread, both because I’m afraid of the disease and because I might be forced to be a research subject for an unsuccessful cure.
C. How is this even my problem?
You would describe your living quarters as:
A. A little cramped, but that’s just because it’s so crowded in New Beijing—everyone else is living in the same little space as me
B. Little more than a closet since no one will allow me more room and I can’t afford to move elsewhere
C. Spacious and luxurious, because that’s the way I want it, and what I want, I get
The reaction that you most often incite in others is:
A. Friendliness, if I see them every day, or nothing at all, if they’re strangers
B. Revulsion—so many people look down upon me because I’m just not like them
C. Fear—understandably, people might be a little put off by the power of my influence
You find yourself alone with Prince Kai. How are you feeling right now?
A. Ecstatic! Could there be a more handsome person in all of New Beijing? And he’s royalty to boot!
B. Nervous. He doesn’t know about my peculiarities, and I’d really rather he not find out.
C. Victorious. It’s only a matter of time until I can convince him to see things my way.
You’re late to the ball. How do the other guests react to your tardiness?
A. Without much ado, since I am just another guest like them.
B. They stop and stare, because I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing there (believe me, I’m wondering the same thing).
C. They stare because I am such a vision of beauty, but then they keep a respectful distance as I make my way through the crowd.
If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you want to be?
A. Why would I want to live anywhere other than New Beijing?
B. I think I’d just be happy to find a place to stay where other people won’t judge me for what I look like.
C. Why should I have to limit myself to this world, when I can have it all?
Now it’s time for the results! If you got:
by Jay Clark
Fresh off my first ever *starred* review for my debut novel, The Edumacation of Jay Baker, I was riding high last week. Then, at a party over the weekend, I ran smack-dab into a Debbie Downer. After filling me in on the horrible reaction she’d had to this year’s flu shot, Debbie asked how “the whole book thing” was going. Trying not to rock back and forth on my heels like the little boy I still am, I told her about my review. She nodded noncommittally, then asked how I’d feel when I got a crappy one.
“Fine,” I said stiffly. “Gotta take the good with the bad, you know?”
Squinting her eyes, Debbie did not appear convinced. She’d seen how paper-thin my skin was only moments earlier, when she’d made fun of my “John Mayer” hair and I’d gotten defensive about it.
“But it’ll be really hard, you know?” she prodded, pretending to be sympathetic. “Spending all that time on something and then having people judge it. I mean, I couldn’t do it.”
I was tempted to agree wholeheartedly, facedly, and assedly. Instead, I clutched my stomach and said, “Have to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
I never came back. But you know what came my way this week? The not-so-great review Nostradebbie had predicted. Cue the “Wah-waaaah” trumpet noise.
It was more of a mixed review, really – a lot of good-not-great stuff about my tendency to overwrite and insert jokes where they’re—pa-dum-pum!—not needed. Wait just a second, I thought. Did my mom write this? In other words, it was nothing I hadn’t heard before. But still. I’m human. My robot operation isn’t scheduled until 2041. And if I had my choice between sticks & stones or a big flaming pile of words, bring it on, Rock of Gibraltar! Oh, what the heck – let Debbie & the Gang have their say, too. I’ll just shield my body underneath a pile of magazines (the one with my starred review) and, of course, steel-infused copies of The Edumacation of Jay Baker.
Just in time for the holidays! We have two great titles to give away!
Like us on Facebook! Enter to win either Melody Burning or 12 Things to Do Before You Crash and Burn (or both!)
Find out more about these great books below!
James “Hercules” Martino has until the end of the summer (a.k.a. two weeks) to accomplish the twelve tasks given to him by his Uncle Anthony. The tasks will take him to the far reaches of Baltimore, lead him to a Beautiful and Unattainable Woman, and change the way he sees his past, present, and future.
Spare in words, but abundant in big ideas and laugh out loud humor, James Proimos has crafted a novel for any teenager who’s ever had a complicated relationship with a parent. In other words, everyone.
“Hercules charms readers with humor and honesty…”–School Library Journal
“This fun, slim book has a very interesting premise: a boy who happens to be nicknamed Hercules and who has recently lost his father is assigned twelve tasks (labors) to complete when he goes to stay with his uncle over the summer.” –VOYA
“Proimos fully inhabits the mind and voice of his hero, whose almost mythic journey offers moments hilarious, heartbreaking, and triumphant.” –Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
Beresford doesn’t remember much about his past or how he came to live in the chutes and crawl spaces of the posh high-rise that shares his name. But when rock star and teen sensation Melody McGrath moves to an apartment on the fiftieth floor, he knows he has to be near her. Although she doesn’t realize it, Melody is threatened by more dangerous forces than her manipulative stage mom and the pressures of life in the spotlight. The owner of the glamorous building has been hiding a fatal secret within its walls, and Beresford puts all his plans at risk. Will Beresford and Melody be able to escape with their lives (and love) intact?
Bestselling author Whitley Strieber makes his young adult debut with this pulsing romantic thriller.
“[A] fast-paced melodrama…”–School Library Journal
“…a combination of music, mystery, and love.” –VOYA
“Strieber, the author of several adult titles of speculative fiction and nonfiction has penned an engrossing YA debut.” –Booklist
by Marissa Meyer
I’m collecting shoes.
I didn’t mean to collect shoes, it just seems to be an occupational hazard when you write a book and your publisher puts a red high-heeled pump on it. I would love to know if the authors of The Devil Wears Prada and Sirenz have found themselves faced with the same affliction, because ever since my cover was revealed there’s been a steady trickle of shoes into my life. So far I’ve accumulated a tiny shoe charm, a keychain, a paperweight, two Christmas ornaments, and, my personal favorite, a tape dispenser (a pre-wedding gift from my husband).
I’m not complaining. As a credit-card-carrying twenty-something female with two feet, I happen to be a big fan of shoes. Especially of the sexy red variety.
It’s just that . . . they’re already starting to take over my desk, and my book’s not even out yet. If this continues, I fear I might have to buy a shelving unit or a curio cabinet (a.k.a. those glass-doored cabinets your grandma keeps all her porcelain in).
I’m also worried about what might happen when my next cover is released. Will Scarlet, a take on Little Red Riding Hood, bring an influx of red hooded sweatshirts to my wardrobe? Could the publication of Cress, my Rapunzel story, bring hair ornaments raining from the sky? And Winter, a futurized spin on Snow White, is rife with symbolic gift-giving potential. Apples and mirrors and dwarves, oh my!
But I am growing quite fond of my little shoe collection. Every addition is like a small reminder that my cover is real, my book is actually getting published, and my friends and family are almost as excited over that red glass slipper as I am.
Besides, I could have written a zombie book and be amassing fake brains and survival gag gifts and Walking Dead action figures instead. To which I say—a girl can never have too many shoes!
Marissa Meyer is the author of upcoming Cinder. Read more about Cinder on Facebook – and become a fan of The Lunar Chronicle series!
CINDER author Marissa Meyer takes us through the insanity that is National Novel Writing Month. Enjoy!
It’s November. Twitter is gushing with word counts. The blogosphere is saturated with progress charts and teaser quotes. Facebook is overflowing with complaints of too little time, too little sleep, and very unruly characters. It can only mean one thing.
NaNoWriMo has struck again.
As a four-time NaNo champion, I’m a big advocate for this month-long writing extravaganza that encourages writers to prioritize their creativity in the most insanity-inducing way. Not only were the first three books in The Lunar Chronicles all NaNo novels, they were also all drafted during a single month.
Three books. 150,000 words. Thirty days. Ah, the crazy November of 2008.
It started when the Seattle-based NaNo coordinators issued a challenge. The local participant who wrote the most words during November would win a prize: a walk-on role in an episode of Star Trek: Phoenix. Knowing my share of Trekkies, and never being one to shy away from a challenge, I did a bit of research and determined that to have a shot I would have to write approximately 150,000 words, all while attempting not to lose my full-time job or fail the two classes I was taking toward my Master’s degree.
Piece of cake, right?
I had an idea for a series of futuristic fairy tales that I was excited to write, so I drafted up some outlines, made myself a daily word goal (5,000 on weekdays, 10,000 on weekends), and decided that failure was not an option. On the morning of November 1st, I jumped in with foolish abandon.
I’ll skip the harrowing tales of subsisting on teriyaki take-out and forgetting what my family looked like during those four weeks. Because in the end, I did it. I haven’t the faintest idea how, but I clocked in at 8:51 p.m. on November 30th with 150,011 words.
And no, I didn’t win the walk-on role for an episode of Star Trek.
In fact, I came in at a rather humbling third place, and the only prize I got was a lot of people asking if I’m actually a robot.
But while I didn’t win the prize, I did finish the month with three shoddy, nonsensical first drafts, a cast of characters I was quickly falling in love with, and a story that was filled with both plot holes and potential.
So I put on my writing gloves and got back to work.
Would you know it? Precisely two years later, on November 1st, 2010, I received an offer for that four-book series from Feiwel & Friends, a MacKids imprint. And as I write this during NaNo 2011, I’m counting the days to CINDER’s release in January.
So in the end, I feel like I probably won the biggest prize after all: a dream come true.
Not to mention an entire month of guilt-free teriyaki take-out.
Be sure to check out Marissa Meyer on Twitter, LiveJournal, and on Facebook at the Lunar Chronicles fan page!
by author Caragh M. O’Brien
November 8, 2011
Nancy Mercado and I talk to each other rarely. We’ve had fewer than a dozen phone calls over the past three years, and we’ve met in person three times total. In a way, I know my editor most vividly as a disembodied voice in the margin of my manuscripts, and yet, because of the focused nature of our relationship, Nan has surprised me countless times by how completely she gets how my mind works. It’s almost uncanny, really. We laugh a lot, too, but almost never in the same room, at the same time.
When we revise a draft together, certain ongoing exchanges take on a life of their own. We’ve recently worked on “Tortured,” a short story we plan to use as an experimental tie-in to The Birthmarked Trilogy. Here’s a screenshot showing our Track Changes comments around a particular revision. You can figure out who’s talking even when she jumps in my red box with her caps.
I ended up taking her advice on that one. I usually take her advice, frankly, or pull my brains out trying to figure out why I shouldn’t.
As much as I value the small-scale editing, however, what I really cherish is the way Nan pushes me deeper into my own mind with her questions during large revisions, and how she supports when I need to take a risk. Prized brings up a sensitive issue, the sort of topic that can divide my extended family and set tempers flaring. A character’s unwanted pregnancy had been hovering at the edge of my story through eight drafts before I finally said to Nan, I don’t know what to do with this. I thought she might advise me to drop it, which I could have done, but instead, she suggested I bring it forward. Face it. See what happened.
Until that point, I had not realized how much I’d been censoring myself. I was afraid to write something that might make people, especially people I loved, upset with me. I didn’t think I could write well enough to be fair or true. Over the next weeks, grappling with the novel also involved discovering what responsibilities I had as a person and a writer, especially a writer for teens. Nan patiently waited me out, postponing deadlines, nudging with her questions while I hewed away, rewriting and revising, rippling the consequences of my decisions through the rest of the story. I trusted Nan would support me regardless of what I wrote, as long as I wrote honestly. The final novel feels right to me; hard but right.
I know I would not have developed Prized the way I did, nor stretched who I am quite this way, without Nan’s support, and so when it came time to pick a person to dedicate Prized to, Nan was my only choice. I put her name in the manuscript just before the copy edits stage and sent it in. When she wrote back to ask if I was sure, I was caught in a funny, awkward moment. She modestly said that writers usually pick family members, and I thought, Oh, no. She’s declining. I couldn’t exactly write back and say Nan’s like family to me. She isn’t. Nan’s like my editor to me.
In the end, fortunately, I convinced her. Prized is dedicated to Nancy Mercado.
