Website Wonder!

It took me long enough, but I FINALLY have a website to call my own:

www.aimeefriedmanbooks.com

And you will note that my beloved Romantic Comedy, A NOVEL IDEA, has a place of prominence on the home page. :)

Check out the site for a comprehensive look at all my books, some links I love, a bio (and a video), and more!

I must say, it's a lovely feeling to have a proper "home" on the web. I look forward to having folks stop by and say hello!

What's in a Name?

I guess the answer to that question depends on the name. When I’m creating a character, sometimes the perfect name simply bursts into my mind with ease. It just feels right. It fits the personality perfectly. Other times it takes some work. Okay, a LOT of work. To help, I have a baby name website bookmarked. I’ve also been known to look through my high school yearbook, the white pages, and even the spines on the reference books beside my desk for inspiration.

I try not to be too literal with the character names. In my DRAMA! series, “Hope” doesn’t represent “Hope.” Although the other characters do like to have fun inserting her name into various hope-related cliches (for example, they might joke about how she "floats" or "springs eternal"). You might be surprised by the number of cliches out there that incorporate the word “Hope.” Or you might not.

The most fun I’ve had with names was when I wrote a couple books based on the ALIAS TV show. In them, I could exaggerate the main character’s aliases in much the way the series exaggerated her wardrobe. I couldn’t go as far as, say, a Bond Girl with the name, but I was able to create an exotic moniker like Lilia Von Malkin, which I built by taking a friend’s name and adding a little flair.

In LOVE, HOLLYWOOD STYLE I named my characters in honor of my favorite Romantic Comedy of all time: THE PHILADELPHIA STORY. I figured it fit with the Hollywood theme. If you have not seen this classic film, I URGE you to do so. Tracy is named for Katharine Hepburn’s Tracy Lord. Connor comes from Jimmy Stewart’s Macaulay Connor. Liz is from Ruth Hussey’s Elizabeth Imbry. And Dex is in honor of Cary Grant’s C.K. Dexter Haven ... arguably the BEST name in film history. (Mind you, they all have different last names so it's an homage and not a rip off.)

So, to my fellow writers—both published and unpublished—I ask: What's in your characters' names?

This is Dedicated to the One I Love

Just a question for fellow writers (both aspiring and established). Do you have a difficult time deciding on your dedications? Do you feel like you're playing favorites if you dedicate it to just one family member? Is the dedication specificially tied to the subject of the novel? Do you parcel them out among loved ones over a series of a few books? These are the types of questions that keep me up at night. (And don't even get me started on figuring out what to write for the About the Author page.)

Who do you trust to read what you write?

This blog is interesting because it's part communication device and part therapy session. It's also about one of my favorite topics, writing. It is in that vein that I'm am posting this week. I'm curious about how everyone approaches the concept of letting other people read what you are currently writing. I know that some people are very sercretive. But, I'm not. I really feed off of feedback. As such, I have two distinct groups that I give pages to. The first is a group of woman who I work with in my day job as a television producer. There are three of them who are reading along now. They're all smart and they not only give me great suggestions, they also guilt me when it's too long between chapters. (That keeps me from falling too far behind.) The other is a handful of high school girls who live in my neighborhood. They're especially valuable for making sure that as I get older and further removed from the saga that was known as high school, I still keep in touch with what actual kids are really like. What about you guys? Do you go the Emily Dickinson route and hide your pages in your drawer? Or are you more open with them?

Oh the Times They Are A' Changin. . .BACK!

Lately, my teenage daughter has been asking me to go to the movies with her.

This may not seem like such a big deal, but it is to me. Ever since she hit 12, being seen with mom has been off limits. For a while in there I swear she wanted people to believe that she was hatched from an egg, with no parents at all. But now, things are changing. Now I'm not delusional. I know that when we go to the movies together, I pay, and that makes it more attractive. But I'm still taking this as a good sign. An even better sign is that we like the same movies. And not just the chick flick thing, either. (Although we did hit Enchanted one night). She's growing up and wanting to see and be part of things that are more political and important. In fact, I think a lot of mom's old-school ways are rubbing off on her. It was her suggestion that we see I'm Not There, and I was surprised at how many Dylan songs the kid actually knew. And then she asked me if we could go see Bob Weir and Rat Dog the next time they came to town. (I should have predicted that one, as my Grateful Dead t-shirts seem to be making their way into her room at a rapid pace). And then there was her suggestion that we watch The U.S. vs John Lennon together. Oh, and have I mentioned the collection of peace sign necklaces and earrings she's been wearing?

So where does all this come from? I think it's a combination of things. One, she's getting older (just her, not me of course). And then there's the fact that high school kids are faced with some harsh realities these days. As her male friends who are seniors hit 18, that old registration letter comes in the mail. (There's no draft, of course, but just the idea that the government wants to keep a kid on record is pretty scary). She's gone to a peace march already and will be hitting more. LIttle by little kids are becoming politicized, and I think that's a great thing.

Back in 2005, when I first wrote my novel Dawn's Early Light, which is about 24 hours in the life of a girl whose boyfriend is about to go off and join the military, my hope was that by the time it was published the war would be over, and the book would be a moot point (Sorry, Bethany, but you know that's coming from a good place). But here we are, three years later, and I still get myspace notes from kids who have read the book and can relate as family and friends are being sent off to war. And it just makes me want to scream. GET INVOLVED.

These frustrating times also makes the need for romantic comedies all the more important, because when kids are growing up in difficult times, they need as much laughter and love as they can get. So write on, my fellow rocom authors. You have no idea how many kids you're helping, just by giving them the time fantasize and enjoy.

Now, back to what I was saying before I digressed. I'm enjoying my daughter's sudden interest in the world and her desire to make it better. (A year ago the most she'd protest is if Sephora had stopped carrying her favorite eye-shadow). And the fact that she's bringing me along for her ride is really special.

But before I get too happy , I have to remember that my younger child has just hit 13, and like his sister before him, he's convinced that he was hatched from an egg and that there is no need for parents unless you need cash. How humbling!

xxoo

N

Winter Blahs

Here we are at the end of January, and I'm always looking for fun and active things to do to shoo away the winter blahs. I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by ski resorts, so there's always skiing and boarding. And we sure have the white stuff this year! However, if you don't have season passes, it can get expensive. Same with snowmobiling, unless you own your own machines. Which, personally, I don't.

The other day, my whole family went snow-shoeing. Oh, man, that was great! It was a quiet, snowy afternoon and we walked around a lake, seeing who sunk and who managed to stay on top. Sledding is another winter favorite. Not only are these two activities fun and affordable, they're great exercise!

Last night my bunch and two other families went to the rock climbing gym. The kids did great and I mainly ran around keeping the baby from being someone's landing pad and hoisting people back onto the "mountain" when they got swinging too high. Stupid me, I wore the wrong kind of shoes so I didn't get to climb myself. There's always next week, right?

What do you do to keep active and have fun in the dead of winter?

the fine art of writing

I honestly can't believe that a year has passed since I left my job as a high-falutin' (ha!) editor and decided to concentrate full time on my writing. As I've mentioned before on this blog, once I had made the choice to leave my day job, the timing seemed perfect to finally pursue a longtime personal goal of mine--and I applied to the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA in writing for Children and Young Adults.

What a difference twelve months makes. I can recall in cringe-worthy detail how overwhelmed I was to arrive on campus and instantly be enveloped by this hugely passionate, widely-versed, and insatiably curious group.

I worried about so many things: had it been too long since I'd been in an academic environment, would my time as an editor prove to have hardened me to the workshop process, would my propensity toward writing more light-hearted, commercial fair like 30 GUYS alienate me from my more serious, "lit'rery" colleagues?

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The faculty of this school: Kathi Appelt, Sharon Darrow, David Gifaldi, Julie Larios, Margaret Bechard, Martine Leavitt, Uma Krishnaswami, Tim Wynne-Jones, Leda Schubert, Rita Williams Garcia, and etc., etc., etc., are warm and giving and totally disarming. The caliber of the student body is beyond impressive, and you should by all means keep an eye out for: Carrie Jones, Varian Johnson, Stephanie Greene, Shawn Stout, Kate Angelella, and Gwenda Bond, for a start 'cause they are butt-kicking writerly types. And as for alumni, um: Lauren Myracle? MT Anderson? An Na? Um, WOW!


I'm the first person to admit that one doesn't "need" a degree in order to have a career as a writer. But to be in a position to take two years to concentrate on my craft is a luxury that I'll never take for granted. If writing classes are something that interest you, I absolutely endorse it (in fact, take my Media Bistro class, or come see me at Miami Dade College this spring, if you're curious!).

Oh--but if you're coming to VCFA, bring an extra sweater!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get my beauty rest. My next lecture starts at 8am tomorrow.

A Day of Mourning

Tonight, the Golden Globe winners will be announced at a press conference. As in, no show, no dresses, no blingy shoes on pedicured feet for Joan and Melissa Rivers to ogle. With the writers' strike still on, the show is off. (Anyone else want to join me in a community "Waaah!"?)

As a writer, I'm all for it. Hollywood's writers work hard to create the storylines that keep us talking...how much time have you spent debating the plot twists on Lost, Heroes, Desperate Housewives, or Gossip Girl? The DVD sales from those shows stand to earn studios a lot of money, and writers deserve to earn a reasonable piece of that pie.

However, cancelling the ceremony means the actors and shows that win won't get their moment of glory--which is a big career boost. This year, it also means Steven Spielberg won't have an audience as he picks up a well-deserved Cecil B. DeMille Award. And it's not just the award winners who lose out. Calling off the show means a huge hit to the the L.A. economy. Given all that, I hope the strike ends soon, with all sides feeling the conclusion was reasonable, to prevent the same thing happening with the Oscars.

I'll admit, even though my writer side supports the strike...as an awards show fan, I'm in mourning. (I swear, the fact I'm wearing black today is a total coincidence. Really.) I mark the ceremony date on my calendar and even get up early on the day nominations are announced to find out who's up for which award. I enjoy it so much that I decided one of my characters, Val Winslow of the Royally Jacked books, should have an awards show addiction just so I could write about it.

Most years, I have friends over to watch the broadcast with me. As the stars make their red carpet entrances, we discuss their outfits (usually predicting who'll end up on Go Fug Yourself the next morning) and fill out ballots, trying to see who can pick the most winners. (Tip to those of you with awards show pools: nailing the documentary and music categories is what makes the difference!) But who'll be this year's fashion Cher? Who'll be this year's Halle Berry? Hopefully, we'll find out come Academy Awards night. I want to see what Amy Adams, Jodie Foster, and Keira Knightley wear this year.


What about you? Are you in mourning, or is the lack of an awards show no big thing to you? Are you in it for the fashion, the awards, or the speeches? Whose dress did you want to see? Me, I most want my regularly scheduled house party!

Buried under End of Year Avalanche

I am not a horrible person, but I always seem to play one at the end of every year. Then January comes and I slooooowly dig out and start hoping to catch up 'this year.'

Every year I make a resolution that next year will be different. So far, no go. This year may have been the worst end of year. Ever. At the beginning of December I was in balmy L.A. (see lovely pic, taken during my last week). And then I came back to a foot of snow and bitter cold (I was going to post a pic, but I can't bear to). And then it snowed again. And then I slipped in my driveway (note to self: never wear high heeled boots on ice) and twisted my ankle and knee. And then I curled up in a ball and whimpered for a few weeks. And then I had to get in a car and drive fifteen hours a day for four days to go to VA and back. My mom and her twin sister turned 70. 70 guests. Lots of talking. A certain amount of feeling human again. A slight respite from the snow. The thaw still too me...ummm...11 more days. It is January 11th, right?

So, uncurling at last, I am slowly digging out of the work I still have to do (why does the work not go away when I curl up? Why? Would it help if I sang a few bars of "Work Work Go Away"? No? Didn't think so). So it helps that I've turned in my book revisions, caught up on my teaching, starting preparing for an advanced workshop in tutoring I'll be going to a week from Saturday (barring major snow/ice storms), and made my first To Do list of the year. One of the top ten items was to blog here this month.

Top item on my New Year's Resolutions: Last two weeks of the year are for enjoying the change of season -- no book deadlines, family crises, or twisted knees allowed. Think it will happen this year...at last? I do. Because I'm going to make it happen, or put my back out trying.

I hope everyone else's year ending went more smoothly than mine! ...and that next year's does too.

Kelly
(instead of GETTING TO THIRD DATE, I'm looking forward to GETTING TO CHRISTMAS WITHOUT GETTING BURIED...would that be an awful book title...but a wonderful goal...sigh...wish me luck).

We've got the scoop!

Look for these new Simon Pulse Romantic Comedies this year! ♥

***COMING IN MARCH 2008***

Something Borrowed
By Catherine Hapka

She’s ready to catch the bouquet, not steal the guy!

When Ava gets dumped by her boyfriend, she’s pretty upset. He wasn’t the love of her life of anything, but with her sister’s wedding—a.k.a. the social event of the season—just two weeks away, Ava’s got to save face by finding someone cute and fun to bring as her date.

With the clock ticking and no dates in sight, Ava asks her best friend if she can “borrow” her boyfriend, Jason, for the night. Ava’s never been a big Jason fan, but he’ll look great in a tux and at least she’ll have someone to dance with. But it doesn’t take long for Ava to realize she’s got him all wrong…

What do you do when Mr. Right is wrapped up in a package that belongs to your best friend?

***COMING IN JUNE 2008***

Party Games
By Whitney Lyles

Sara Sullivan has to create a fabulous sweet sixteen bash for spoiled socialite Dakota Lane. As if dealing with a diva isn't enough, Dakota demands that Sara find her a date for the party-with the very guy Sara has fallen for! Is the party over for Sara, in more ways than one?





***COMING IN AUGUST 2008***

Puppy Love
By Nancy Krulik

New York City dog walker Alana Marks can't help but complain to her new friend Connor about her clients' pampered pooches... and she can't help but fall for Connor. What she doesn't realize is that she's barking up the wrong tree-he's the son of her newest client.





***COMING IN 2008***

The Twelve Dates of Christmas
By Catherine Hapka

Lexi's best friend has this theory that, once a couple has gone out a dozen times, their relationship is pretty much set. If this is true, then how is Lexi going to rekindle her relationship with her ex, Cam, seeing that Cam's twelfth date with a new girl is approaching? Lexi has just one Christmas wish-her boyfriend back!

Tales From The Tour

LOVE, HOLLYWOOD STYLE is not autobiographical, but it WAS inspired by my first job out of college. Like my main character, Tracy, I was also a tour guide at a major motion picture and TV studio. Since today is the book’s official release day (yay!), I thought it might be fun to share one of my favorite work stories...

Let me first make it clear that I did not work at a studio that doubled as a theme park. We did not have trams carting a hundred people around while my voice was projected over a sound system. King Kong did not attack us. And the only earthquake ride we had was if there was an actual quake. Our tour consisted of approximately a dozen people walking through the studio, looking at the outsides of buildings while I talked about the history of what was filmed inside. Since it was a working studio, there was no guarantee that you’d get inside any of those buildings on any given day or that you’d see any celebrities at all.

The summer I worked as a tour guide, THE BIRDCAGE (starring Robin Williams, Nathan Lane, Gene Hackman, Dianne Wiest, etc...) was filming on the lot. Word quickly spread among the guides that there was a good chance for celeb sightings if you took your tour down this one alley that I usually bypassed. Naturally, I planned to alter my normal tour route the first chance I got.

The next time that I was scheduled to guide a tour, I picked up my group and briefed them on the proper tour etiquette as usual: “No approaching the actors. No photos of the actors. This is their workplace. There’s no guarantee that we’re going to see any actors, but if we do, it’s preferred that we let them go about their work without interruption.” No one complained about the rules, but that didn’t necessarily mean they’d behave themselves. Remember, these were free-range tourist, not contained to a tram car. I’d already had one couple disappear on me earlier in the year (but I did find them before anyone found out).

I spent the first part of the tour gauging my group’s behavior. If there was any risk of someone going insane on me, I would just bypass the BIRDCAGE alley, and they would never know. An hour into the tour, things seemed pretty safe. So I took them down the alley. We were only a few steps in when Robin Williams stepped out of his trailer right in front of us. I was thrilled to see that my group behaved exactly as they’d been instructed. They did not approach Robin Williams. They did not try to take pictures of Robin Williams. They did not accost Robin Williams.

They also did not move. At all. They were frozen in place, staring at the actor as he smiled and said a polite “hello.”

“Okay,” I said, continuing the tour. “Down this way we have...” Nothing. I had ceased to exist.

“And we’re walking...” I reminded them. But they were not walking. They were not going anywhere.

Things were getting awkward. I had a dozen tourists encircling Robin Williams who just wanted to get out of his trailer. I was already imagining the calls to security and me losing my job. And that’s when Robin Williams did something I will never forget.

He took over my tour.

The actor sprung down the steps of his trailer and starting doing improv, pointing out all the buildings around us and sharing their rich histories. It was all lies, but no one really cared. We were a captive audience as he deftly walked us down the looooong alley spouting off whatever came to his intensely creative mind until he said good-bye and dashed into the makeup trailer at the other end.

Even though there was nearly an hour left in the tour, as far as I was concerned my work was done. Nothing I could tell them from my regular tour script could compare to what we’d just seen.

What to Watch for in 2008

On Christmas Day I got the happy news from a friend of my in-laws at brunch that I am featured in San Diego Magazine as one of fifty people of the year to watch in 2008. Every January the magazine does its "50 People to Watch" issue and they don't announce who's in the mag until it actually hits stands. I'm going to name drop which always makes me feel yucky, but just to give all a sense of what it's like. Norv Turner (head coach of the Chargers), Trevor Hoffman (pitcher for the Padres), and Heather Myers (anchor for national Fox News) are just a few of the cool folks I'm featured with. There are all kinds of musicians, politicians, and wonderful humanitarians to watch. The news came as a nice Christmas gift and an inspiring way to start the new year.
The following morning, my parents' neighbor very politely asked me what exactly she was supposed to be watching for. Just little things, I told her. A six figure advance and an interview with Oprah. Nothing major.
No seriously, it really got me thinking. And the first thing I thought of were alarming images of me walking into the workshop I'm leading at the Southern California Writers' Conference in February with a piece of toilet paper as long as an Olympic sized pool trailing from my shoe. Or something much worse.
Or maybe I should've said watch as I break all three of my new year's resolutions by noon on January 2nd. Because thats' exactly what happenend. I don't even remember what all of them were but I know I had three. I'm just not cut out for diets. I'm learning new things about myself all the time.
One thing the magazine did get right, and it's a guarantee to watch for in 2008 is the June release of my latest romantic comedy, Party Games. I can't wait!
Hope everyone is having a wonderul start to 2008.

Meet me in L.A.! (Lower Alabama)

I’ve received a surge of e-mail from readers in the past few days. I suspect a lot of you got bookstore gift cards in your stockings. Listen, I really appreciate that out of all the bazillions of books in the store, you picked mine. And thank you so much for writing to tell me you enjoyed them! There is no better start to my day than to turn on my computer and find e-mail from you, especially after I have hit my head on the kitchen cabinet door while trying to find the coffee.

One of the questions I get most often is whether I will make a movie out of Major Crush and/or The Boys Next Door. I think this is a great idea. Ashley Tisdale should play Lori. She makes a terrific diva in High School Musical, but she’s also got that dork act down to a science on Zack & Cody, and that’s what we want. For Adam let’s cast Lucas Black from Friday Night Lights--the movie, not the TV show. He’s handsome, he’s a terrific actor, AND he’s really from Alabama.

Okay, let’s get real. I can’t make movies. Most authors, even the ones whose books do get filmed, have very little to do with the process. Here’s what I know about it--which is probably a lot less than Micol knows, or Aimee, or...just about anyone on this blog.

Step 1. When you first sell your novel to a publisher, it’s announced with a short description on a publishing web site. Filmmakers haunt this site, and when they read a description of a novel that sounds interesting, they may ask to read it. This happened two or three times that I know of for Major Crush and six times for Going Too Far, my novel coming out with MTV Books in 2009. No takers yet, but I love hearing that someone even asked to see my work. That means I wrote a novel that SOUNDS good to someone, regardless of its actual quality, and that is no small feat in itself.

Step 2. A filmmaker purchases the TV/film rights to your book. This has happened for several of the Simon Pulse Ro-Coms!

Step 3. A filmmaker actually makes the TV/film. They buy a lot more stories than they can ever film. Only a small percentage of these ever become TV shows or movies.

Step 4. The filmmaker throws herself at your feet, pleading with you to write the screenplay from your novel so as to glean all possible benefit from your creative awesomeness. As far as I can tell, this only happens for huge best-selling authors who have a lot of editorial or film experience, and sometimes not even then. Currently I’m (finally!) reading Bridget Jones’s Diary, which so far is almost exactly like the film, in part because Helen Fielding both wrote the book and co-wrote the screenplay. But most authors are never given this choice. It’s give up control over what happens to your story in its film version, or no deal. I have heard of authors who refuse to sell TV/film rights for their books because they are afraid of what the filmmakers will do to their precious babies. Rest assured THIS will never happen at Chez Echols.

That’s the long answer. The short answer is, no, I will not personally be making films of my books, much as I would like to invite Ashley and Lucas and their stunt doubles to my parents’ place on Lake Martin for wakeboarding and pyrotechnics.

Jennifer Echols

Ain't Technology Grand

Since I’m spending the holidays in a Technological Void and haven’t been able to get onto this blog, Micol totally beat me to the post on FIRST KISS (THEN TELL). I’ve got a little memory play in the book called “Improvisation” and I so agree with her about the use of personal angst in my writing career.

Speaking of Technological Voids, can you guess what the hardest-to-find gift was this holiday season? Nope. Not the Wii. It’s a VCR. A plain old, simple VCR. Sure, there are plenty of VCR/DVD combos around, but what if your TV already has a DVD player built in? Why be redundant? It seems we no longer have a choice. The VCR has gone the way of Betamax. (And please do not ask me “What is Betamax?” I don’t think I could handle that right now.)

I had a chuckle a few weeks back when one of the kids on KID NATION (Yes, I watched every single episode. Your point?) thought a phonograph was a modern invention because it had a CD on it. Now, I do not blame the kid for this mistake. Recognizing a phonograph was simply outside of his life experience. Of course, this got me thinking of all the things I grew up with that kids born today probably won’t know. Heck, even things some of you reading this blog right now may not recognize, such as...

-Records. 8-Tracks. Cassettes. And probably CDs.
-A rotary phone. With a cord. And that buzzing sound when you leave it off the hook. (Oh, and the sweet mystery of not knowing who is on the other end of the line until you pick up the receiver.)
-The sound of a typewriter.
-Wham!
-The fine art of passing handwritten notes in class.
-A TV antenna.
-A TV Guide
-A TV ... well, depending on the fallout from the writers strike.
-Pong
-A Green Machine (It’s a kind of Big Wheel ... but green ... do they still make Big Wheels?).
-Roller skates – not blades.
-The Wonder Twins

I could go on, but I am WAY too young to feel so old.

Hope you all have a Happy 2008. Me? I’m going to stay right here, happily ensconced in 1987.

Peter Cameron had it right

...in that one way to make one's adolescent angst useful later in life is to repurpose it for inclusion in a short story collection AVAILABLE NOW FROM BLOOMSBURY!

Check it out:

First Kiss (Then Tell): A Collection of True Lip-Locked Moments.

25 teen authors recount the story of their first kiss. Mine's called "First Last Kiss." And I'm in some truly excellent company INCLUDING Ro Com authors PJ Ruditis and Niki Burnam.

Now, if only I were making royalties off of all of those painful memories....

Up All Night

As a family we have made it through Christmas and I am doing my best to keep up with my son in Guitar Hero. I'm looking forward to a very writerly new year. I have a book coming out around Valentine's Day (it's called Prama) and another one coming out next December - which ironically is set around Valentine's Day.

Back when I was in film school, we had a term called the "latent image blues" which referred to that sense of disappointment you felt when the film was sent to the lab for developing. During this period all you could do was wait and think about everything you wish you had done differently. That's how I feel about Prama right now. I hope it's good, but I've lost all perspective. All I can do is sit back and wait for it to come back from the lab. (or Publisher, rather.) At least it's done. The book coming out next December is fast coming due. The imposing deadline has created mucho anxiety. So, right now, I am suffering from both the latent image blues and the crush of an approaching deadline. Needless to say, I'm a lot of fun to hang with.

In fact a lot of writing is surrounded by negative feelings. Which makes one ask, "why do we do it?" For every writer the reason is different, but for me one came a week ago when talking to a high school girl who lives down the street and read my last book - Animal Attraction. She was reading it at night and got into it. She told me that she kept intending to put it down to finish another day, but didn't. Finally, she committed into staying up way past her bedtime to find out what happened and finished around two in the morning. She had no way of knowing that she perfectly described what I always hoped - that at least one girl would stay up way too late reading it. She made my day and my week. And now, it's is almost two in the morning and I am the one who is still awake. I'm working on the book. (Alright, now I'm procrastinating and writing a blog, but I'll get right back to it. Writing can be disappointing. It can produce way too much anxiety. But, most of all, it's a lot more fun than any of the alternatives.

The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren Finally Out!

It's official, friends! The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren, my first YA novel, is officially official! That's right; you can see my pretty purple book for yourself at your local bookstore. So while you're out and about, returning the Chia Pet your Auntie gave you, keep an eye out.

The Time Machine

You know, it's a funny thing about being a writer. Since your name is on your books, people you haven't seen in eons know exactly what you've been up to all these years, while you don't know a thing about them. Sometimes, that can be embarrassing, like when you get a note, or an e-mail, from someone you have absolutely no recollection of meeting. But other times it can bring back friends you haven't heard from and really are glad to reconnect with.

That happened to me the other day. I got a message on myspace from someone who had been my friend back in elementary school (how long ago was that? I'm not telling. But let's just say no one had a home computer back then, and you still had to go to the teller at the bank to get cash for the week! Oh and I had a cassette deck to play my music on!) Anyway, she moved away after sixth grade and I hadn't heard from her since. So it was kind of a shock when she wrote me now. But it was fun to hear from her, and get pleasantly nostalgic with someone who remembered being in All-Cherry Hill Choir with me (you didn't really have to sing that well,, Cherry Hill's kind of a small place) and remembered my parakeet. It was also very cool to find out she'd grown up really snart and become a doctor!

After I heard from my old friend, I pulled out some old scrapbooks and looked at the class pictures and birthday party collages I'd put together back then. And you know what? Despite all this talk about kids growing up too fast, or the times being different, we really didn't look all that different from the kids my children know now. (Except for the clothes and hairstyles, which are much better now!) In a way, everything changes over time, but nothing changes, too. (That either sounds cryptic or insane, depending on how you read it.) Which gives me hope that years from now people will still be reading our rocoms, and enjoying the make-believe universes we've created.

As for my friend, her daughter bought one of my "How I Survived Middle School: books and seemed to like it a lot. Which made me happy, since there are plenty of references to my Cherry Hill childhood in those books. So the connection was made in a lot of different ways.

I hope all of you can reconnect with old friends this holiday season.

Best wishes for a great year.

And let's hope '08 brings us all peace. It's time.

xxoo

Nancy

I hereby resolve

December has a split personality. It's freezing cold in NYC, and all I want to do is snuggle in bed. Meanwhile, people are dashing off to cocktails parties right and left, being all extra social and stuff. Everything is winding down: my second semester at Vermont (!), my first semester teaching through Media Bistro, the final death rattles of my life as a single woman (yes, it's true, as of this month, I've got myself a permanent roommate. Good thing he's cute 'cause he's a snorer). But of course, we're thinking about the future: the holidays, some vacation if we're lucky, and the new year.

There's a reason the gym's so freaking crowded in January, right?

This past year I actually managed to get my butt back in shape--no easy feat, given my fledgling freelance career. So that's covered. But I should probably either give up giving up processed sugar, or quit whining about it. Anyway, in honor of my very favorite literary romantic comedienne (and yes, I'm aware that this pic is from the movie but THERE YOU HAVE IT), my hopes for '08, such as they are:

-unpack the overflowing suitcases of clothing spilling all over the floor in the "new" apartment; also, pay rent from last two months

-be better about opening important mail like rent bills and such

-stop expecting my father to do my taxes and learn to be a grown-up

-develop a better filing system than the Family Guy folder I've been using for two years now

-floss

-stop lying to my mom about the flossing I'm not doing

-spend less time thinking about going to the gym (note that I am *not* suggesting more time at the gym. Just *less* with the thinking)

-commit to changing out of the pajamas at least once a day during the week, even if only to put on a track suit and my fleece-lined clogs (yeah, you don't get a picture of that)

-maintain more emotional distance from stars of "reality" shows like The Hills. Stop wondering *why* MTV would have us believe that Lauren and Brody are actually dating!

-less procrastination, more full-on avoidance

-more sleep

-more quality time with friends and family (but with less resenting of my future sister-in-law for her naturally quick metabolism)

and, of course...more writing--and reading--of romantic comedies!

Happy holidays, all! I'm off to paint my nails by the silver tinsel Chanukkah bush downstairs.

Sisters

In case you couldn't tell from the title, my newest book, THE YEAR MY SISTER GOT LUCKY, is about sisters. About two sisters, who, after moving to a new town, grow up and grow apart and fight and confess and get closer. It's a kind of dance that they perform, which is fitting, since they are dancers--aspiring ballerinas...just like my sister and me. I'm fairly obsessed with the topic of sisters--there's just so much drama and complexity and love and competition. Think of all the great sister stories that have been written: Jane Austen's SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; Jennifer Weiner's IN HER SHOES; heck, the SWEET VALLEY series. Our closest friends can be like sisters, certainly, but there's something about the sister bond -- about knowing someone all your life, about seeing yourself in another's face--that's wholly unique.

My older sister, to whom I dedicated the book, was the inspiration for the story. Like Michaela, my sister was the star pupil at our dance school and she was always the rational, tidy, levelheaded one, while I was the messy, hotheaded, dramatic one who was too busy daydreaming to get her pirouettes just right. We balanced each other well, like partners in a dance do. As my sister grew up, though, she began to change -- she stopped dancing ballet and started spending more time with her friends and a few boys (!) than she did with me. She started wearing lipstick, and cut her long, curly hair to her shoulders. We started looking less alike. We stopped whispering in our beds every night. It was difficult, wrenching at times, that feeling of being left behind. It took a long, bumpy time before I realized that I needed to grow up a little bit myself, that maybe the perils of the adult world -- boys and romance and make-up and secrets -- weren't all that perilous. My sister and I are still best friends - while I was writing this post, she interrupted me for an iChat, which made my night -- but we also have our own lives, our own paths and identities. Sure, I'm still nostalgic for those simple, carefree nights when we'd lie on our bedroom floor, painting each other's toe nails and making each other laugh so hard we cried. But we still have those moments, even if they're rarer now.

I'm curious. What are some of YOUR sister stories? Are you close with your sister? Are you two similar, or different? If you've read my book, how does your relationship with your sister compare to Katie and Michaela's?I look forward to hearing from you!

Happy holidays!

Aimee