COMING OUT OF THE DARK
I didn’t mean for almost two weeks to go by without reporting. There is an explanation, as always, but this explanation is made more exciting by the fact that IT IS A SECRET.
Yes. A secret. So secret that I had to sign a document promising that I wouldn’t talk about what I was doing . . . but I may be able to tell you in March or so. (I wish I could tell you. I really do. But don’t bother asking an ASK MJ question about it, because I won’t answer it—and I hate letting you down.)
I can tell you I am in ENGLAND, I am working on something that is not one of my books. It is sort of book related, and it is VERY COOL. It’s also what’s kept me busy since last Monday.
So I’ve basically just crawled out from under a pile. To make it up to you (and because I’ve missed you something terrible), I am going to try to post EVERY DAY THIS WEEK.
A small bit of business first: if you are going to the National Council of Teachers of English conference in New York City this weekend, please come by and visit me! I will be signing at the HarperCollins booth from noon to one, and then will be visiting the Scholastic booth after that.
So . . . now I have a DELUGE of questions. There were so many zombie questions that I had to put them all to the side. If I answered them all, I would have come right up in a zombie Google sweep . . . so we have to lay low for a while on those, then I’ll get to them all. Fortunately, there are loads of others to get to.
DEPARTMENT OF UNLIKELY OCCURRENCES
nuwon wearspants said…
If you met a talking dolphin, and he was pretty but only one man could control him – and you understood the dolphin, but couldn’t control him – and that one man was a hobo with a bottle of Lysol for a hand, would you befriend him?
Who has the Lysol hand? The hobo or the dolphin? (Ooooh. The Hobo or the Dolphin. That’s a good title. I want that for my autobiography. Or as the name of the imaginary restaurant I keep thinking I want to open.)
I guess it’s the hobo, right? Dolphins don’t have hands. I follow. I gotcha.
Okay, I understand the dolphin, but the Lysol-handed hobo (I want that title too) . . . he controls the dolphin, and . . . . wait . . . what’s the question? Would I befriend the Lysol-handed hobo or the dolphin?
I think my answer would be yes to both. I want nothing more than to meet a talking dolphin, and I really like Lysol. It’s sort of how I love vacuum cleaners—especially ones with those clear containers where you can see the dirt being collected! Oh, that’s the best. It’s SO SATISFYING. I just bought this little Dyson handheld, and it’s light and it sort of like a big yellow tazer, except it CLEANS. Nothing can escape it! I ran all around my apartment, hand-vacuuming everything that wasn’t moving (or was moving too slowly to escape me). And Swifter . . . don’t even get me started on Swifter. Those things changed my life . . .
Wait . . . what was the question?
the perilous t said…
So, you’re walking down the street one day, and everything appears to be normal. Suddenly, a delivery truck swerves to a halt in front of you and a beautiful cakes comes tumbling out. The truck driver (who just happens to be Zac Efron) and the entire High School Musical cast get out of the truck and gape at the cake in shock before asking you to assist them in lifting the thing back into the truck. You oblige, and have successfully placed the ruined cake where it should be when Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes come bursting out of the nearest building, screaming that their daughter Suri is choking on an anthrax-spiked bagel. They shove her into your arms and beg for your help, only to be silenced by a white grand piano falling off of the roof of a nearby apartment. The Cruises are now dead, except for Suri, who’s still choking on the poisonous bagel while Zac starts singing a chorus of ‘What Time Is It?”. What do you do?
I guess my first question is . . . why is Zac Efron driving a cake truck?
Out of everything that happens here, and A LOT happens here, this is the element that concerns me the most—probably because that cake truck is aimed at me. And how big is this cake that the ENTIRE CAST OF HIGH SCHOOL MUSCIAL CAN’T LIFT IT without my help? And why do they think that I am the secret weapon here? What am I, the Hulk?
It’s not a cake at all, is it, Perilous T? You can’t fool me. I’m the Einstein of personal dangers. I’m not touching that thing. I don’t know what it is, but I know that the cast of High School Musical wants me to touch because it will ASSIMLIATE ME into their world where everyone is trapped in Sisyphean rounds of auditions that never turn into shows. I’ll probably end up like that kid who never puts down the basketball.
It really can’t be a coincidence that the Swiss Family Cruise is in a nearby building, feeding bagels to their small child—bagels that turn out to be poisoned with anthrax. They have obviously angered the cast of High School Musical.
As for what to do for poor Suri . . . I am reminded of my favorite Deep Thought by Jack Handy: “If you’re being chased by an angry bull, and then you notice you’re also being chased by a swarm of bees, it doesn’t really change things. Just keep on running.” Does it really matter, Perilous, whether or not you are poisoned as you choke?
I think my main hope would be that my hero Rupert Grint would come and rescue me in his ice cream truck. Did you know that Rupert Grint owns an ice cream truck? That is a true fact.
DEPARTMENT OF ACCEPTANCE
[comment on a Bartlesville book banning update post]
HA HA HA HA HA HA
Bartlesville has no place for such dribble.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Silly, silly homo.
Oh, you crazy homophobes! I guess you have finished eating all your crayons and have come to search the Interwebs! Hello! Welcome to my blog!
I find homophobia to be terrible affliction, but I have great hopes that it will be overcome someday. In the meantime, if you want to drop by and leave your thoughts and further the discussion, you are welcome to do so!
Bonus points for writing something that sounds like a little Japanese poem! I hope you don’t mind, but I changed your comment around so that it is in haiku format.
HA HA HA HA HA
Silly, silly homo-phobe
HA HA HA HA HA
And my reply . . .
Free Monkey says, “Oh!
Homophobia soon will go!”
Happy days will come.
I invite you to come back again!
DEPARTMENT OF MYSELF
It has come to my attention by the book club people at Joseph-Beth in Cincinnati that you refuse to come to our store. That you only do “regional stuff.” But Maureen, we NEED you to educate the people in ways of good literature. We need you in Cincinnati! Why won’t you come to save us?
What? Who told you that? I never heard of this. I guess someone was making a decision on my behalf. I promise you . . . it wasn’t me. That’s ANNOYING.
It was probably the %@#$&^% cast of High School Musical intercepting my messages.
I’ll be honest with you—part of the problem is that I have three publishers, and not everyone who fields these questions really knows me, so they may just say I won’t do something because they’re overloaded with work. But I can tell you I never heard about your store, and I don’t have any kind of “regional” policy.
I’m working on refining my system of dealing with requests. The best thing right now is to send them to me—or rather, to Free Monkey, who handles all of this. I consider every request I get! It all comes down to a matter of what’s practical and possible, schedule-wise. Sometimes it’s not really feasible for the publisher to send me somewhere to do one event. What I’m trying to do now is gather up all these requests to package them together for the release of Suite Scarlett. So it might be possible! Please drop me an e-mail and Free Monkey will enter you into his system.
Hey Maureen, guess what I did today! I created a LiveJournal community devoted to you & your books.
WOW! Thank you, Jez!
rebekah ruth said…
I’d like to inquire as to how many words, on average, you write per book. For example, how many thousands words were put into the final copy of Devilish (which if my favorite of all your books).
Free Monkey is looking in the files right now and is shouting numbers at me . . .
The Key to the Golden Firebird is 71,216 words. The Bermudez Triangle is 75,131 words. 13 Little Blue Envelopes is 63,614 words. Devilish is 56,438 words. Girl At Sea is 80,592 words. And at the moment, Suite Scarlett is 88,371 words. But don’t be surprised if you get it and it’s 88, 247 words or something. Please send no letters of complaint. I’m still doing some tweaks.
I was just in a show, and our cast was just so unbelievably close… It was amazing. And now the show is over. I’m majorly depressed. How can I get over my post-show depression?
I have the solution! You can read SUITE SCARLETT, which will give you a WHOLE NEW SHOW! Hamlet . . . on unicycles! Unlike High School Musical, which doesn’t even HAVE a musical in it . . . SUITE SCARLETT delivers, and you can just read it again when you need another hit of show!
Maybe this is why the cast of High School Musical is after me . . .
Can you show us the cover of Suite Scarlett?
I couldn’t before, but it wasn’t done, done. But now it is!
Friends, I present to you . . . Suite Scarlett, the cover.
I sort of found this out through the ever-awesome Little Willow who saw that it can be pre-ordered on Amazon. Feel free to start discussing it on that little forum at the bottom. If you put something amusing down there, maybe I will send you a PRIZE.
Until TOMORROW! Since I’m in the UK right now, I am especially interested in answering questions about the American experience in England. What do YOU want to know?
Posted: Tuesday, November 13th, 2007 @ 5:07 pm
Categories: Bartlesville, Suite Scarlett, ask mj, high school musical.
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