A CRAPFT is a craft which is crap. The ideal crapft has been made with true, blind, joyous incompetence. Haste, confusion, lack of proper tools . . . these are all the makings of a great crapft. You can make crapfts while you are goofing off at work or school. Crapfts avoid that cardinal sin: pride. Therefore, crapfts are very MORAL. Also, crapfts are a great way of demonstrating that life is not a meritocracy. The brightest bulbs aren’t always the ones chosen to go in the light, my friends. Why not celebrate this fact?

I had many exceptional crapfts come in. I wish I could show them all. But I had to choose just a few. So here you are–a showcase of great crapfts.

From @murgatroid1, a crapft that almost didn’t make it in because it was kind of too good. The description was, “This counts as a crapft because I folded it. Folding is crafty.” And therein lies the problem–folding IS crafty. But I loved this so much I kind of want a giant poster of it for my house. Honorable mention for being ACTUAL ART.

Now, this is more like it, this entry from @shotgunempire. He (I think he is a he) writes, “I made a go kart racer out of tissue boxes, got bored very quickly.” Look at the result:

He’s done nothing! This is exactly the right kind of spirit! This would probably have won first place if he’s just made a very slight, very poor effort at making it look even remotely go kart like, because a really pathetic effort is actually worse. This borders on “found art,” and is therefore just a little too good to win first place. But excellent effort.

@pipsipirate has contributed this, called simply, “Juan.” It gets points because they put a mustache on a cactus.

Again, I see too many signs of quality here to make it the winner, but again, it has a mustache on a cactus.

@fernandavalenti gave me this, along with the message, “The Fernandaminator 2.0, as mean as it gets!” What’s nice about this is that I really have no idea what’s going on. Confusion is a wonderful quality is a crapft. A top notch crapft makes you ask questions like, “Is this a plate, or is it a sweater?” I look at this and wonder, “Why does this toy car-thing have a gaping hellmouth?” It lost points because I suspect too much time went into it, but a very good effort.

Now, @OSUBrit has contributed something very special with this:

The caption is, “A castle fit for a princess.” Just look at the mastery here. See the computer book from the library propped up on the clothespins and the laptop, just high enough to shelter the totally incongruous Disney princess. A great crapft suggests that either very small children or drunk people are nearby. This crapft suggests both. This ranked very highly, but there was one crapft that really caught the judges’* attention. I think you’ll agree that this entry by @AmandaH56 truly excels.

“An unfinished stuffed panda. The unfinished part is what makes it cute. Not really.” This, is what crapfting is about. The attempt is made. The attempt is forgotten. The result is bone-chillingly creepy. Could you give this to a child? No, you could not. Is it the largeness of the face? The rough stitching? The eerie, balloon-like quality of the head? The ambiguity of the expression? The weird tail thing? It is all these things and more.

Amanda, I salute you. Please send me your name and full address to receive your AWARD.

If there are any other issues you wish me to address in future posts . . . please, as ever, leave them in the COMMENTS.

* Just me. But I gave it a plural apostrophe to make it more exciting.

Many of you are currently moving into dorms, and understandably, you have questions. Like, about your roommate for instance. When I went to college, I was pretty sure that roommates was selected in one two ways:

1. By some extremely cheap people matching software written by the same people who brought you Microsoft Windows Millennium (otherwise known as Microsoft ME, or Mistake Edition), an operating system famous for finding deleted viruses on your computer and reinstalling them for you and turning your computer into an unstoppable zombie machine by both crashing and then refusing to shut off.

2. By the people in the housing office, who carefully read every single application and profile and then got REALLY DRUNK and had a proper night of trying to make the most hilarious combinations possible. (That’s certainly what I would do in their shoes.)

The housing office staff

If there is any justice in the universe, and I think there is, then things have not changed. Which is why you, clinicalarachnophobe92, are now moving in with the current editor of TarantulaFancierBlog.com!

Plus, you will now be living in a room that, if in an actual human house, would have to legally be deemed a closet. Your furniture has been made by a company called Not Quite Good Enough for IKEA. Your neighbor is an aspiring DJ recently released from the Home for People With No Taste in Music, your Resident Assistant used to work for the North Korean secret police, and there is a dark green cloud hovering five inches off of the hot foods bar in the cafeteria.

Good! Everything is in order, then!

Still, it can sometimes take time to adjust to these new conditions. I am here to help.

@professor_moony How do I prevent overpacking for college?

College is a little bit like jail. You know how in jail, lots of things are used as currency, like cigarettes and food and magazines? College is the same way. You can pay for goods and services using everything from Doritos to hand tools to shoe polish. I used my handheld vacuum cleaner as a way of paying for dozens of trips to Taco Bell. So just bring everything. You will never know what you will have to barter.

@krislintz what if your roommate parties a lot and is super obnoxious?

Ah, the Party Animal. At college, the party animal is as ubiquitous as the common squirrel. You may find yourself living with the PA. Your first hint will be the morning you wake up and find his or her bed empty—and then when you are walking to the cafeteria, find him/her/it stuck in the shrubbery outside, emitting a low noise.

Drunk people are very easily confused, and there are a number of quick tricks you can pull to get some privacy and a good night’s sleep. For example, it’s very easy to make fake door number sign. If you are feeling fancy, get some of those stick-on house numbers from Home Depot or something, but really, you can just scrawl the number on a piece of paper. So when your roommate comes stumbling home, looking for room 216 and finds that Webster Hall, Room 216 has been replaced with 3472 Babcock Lane, he or she is likely to wander on and eventually just sleep in the bathroom or the aforementioned shrubs.

This kind of confusion can also work against you. I once fell asleep in my dorm room and forgot to lock the door, and a drunk guy wandered in, thinking he had found the men’s bathroom. Why he thought this, I genuinely have no idea. All I know is that I woke up to the sound of a fountain, and I remember thinking, “When did we get a fountain?” Except it wasn’t a fountain. It was this guy. And the thing he thought was a urinal was my roommate’s laundry basket. When we switched on the light, he was in the process of taking off his pants, which we confiscated before throwing him bodily out of the room, so what I would say to you is, if you live in a room near the bathroom, LOCK YOUR DOOR AT NIGHT.

@Spixdon How can I keep my roommate from eating my food?

I would take a page from any book on Eastern Philosophy on this one and suggest you eliminate the concept of “you”. There is no such thing as “your food” in a dorm. It’s like birdseed in a feeder. It doesn’t belong to any one bird—it belongs to the bird that is currently eating it. The upshot of this is that all the food also belongs to you.

Unless it is something really good, in which case you should hide it in your underwear drawer under your ugliest underwear. Eat it with the door and windows closed, in the dark, when your roommate is at class. Put the trash in the bathroom trashcan.

Are you going to eat that?

@hopeandcheer how do i deal w/ a roommate that says she’s a “death enthusiast” which i can deal with except she snores like a train.

No part of this sentence is good, but I can help you. First, I think you need to determine whether or not your roommate is in need of serious psychological help—in which case, you should speak to the people who run your building, who should be able to take over and get him/her the help he/she needs.

What I HOPE is the case is that you simply have an enthusiastic goth on your hands—which I know is kind of a contradiction in terms, but then, so is “death enthusiast.” I’m all for people having their phases, but “death enthusiasm” is one I have little patience for. So what I would say to you is TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME. What you need to become is a life enthusiast. Like the Spice Girls taught us, “All you need is postivity.” Make it your goal to be the Happiest Person on Campus. Smile till it hurts, at nothing. Smile at walls and doors. Wave at birds. Have a catchphrase, like, “I Believe in Rainbows!” Which is not only super-positive, but also really annoying because rainbows exist and there is no need to go around saying you believe in them.

This is you.

To aid you, I have created this diabolically cheerful playlist of songs—songs I have used successfully over the years to annoy and confuse my enemies and turn them around to my way of thinking. Put together, they are incredibly potent. This won’t be easy, but you need to play these songs OVER AND OVER as LOUD AS YOU CAN. Your problems should be solved in no time!

For the snoring, I suggest (if you have it) an ice cube to the head. It is very effective and the evidence melts quickly, giving you Plausible Deniability.

@viviannguyen naked bathroom dash, WHAT’S THR BEST STRATEGY?

One thing to remember here, and I cannot emphasize this enough: BRING. YOUR. ROOM. KEY. Put it on a lanyard and wear it around your neck. You are never FULLY naked without it. Also, learn the patterns of your RA and any building security and make sure the hall/path/green/walkway to the English building is WELL CLEAR of them before you make any naked runs. IF AT ALL POSSIBLE, leave clothes in a location on the other end of the run, and by clothes, I mean anything, including other people’s towels and /or trash bags.

Don’t ask me how I know this.

I haven’t blogged much is that I’ve been busy writing. That’s the whole explanation.* It turns out there’s only so much I can write before I start shooting off bolts of electricity and laughing like a maniac.** So sometimes I have to make EXECUTIVE DECISIONS in order to stay in optimum running condition. I have no idea if I’m going to blog again tomorrow or two months from now, but I am certainly going to MAKE AN EFFORT to come here more often, because I obviously have THINGS TO TELL YOU. And I’ve missed you. I mean, I’m on Twitter all day long, but still. I can’t really get my ramble on there.

Today, I am going to show you a picture.

This picture is one of the very first—if not the first—picture of me and my (then future) agent, Daphne Unfeasbile.*** It was a long journey from roommate to agent. It took many years. That journey began at a table at a place called “The Scrounge.” That was the actual name of the fast food dining option/meeting place in the student center of our university. I was in the theater group, as were J. Krimble and Daphne, and we spent many, many hours at The Scrounge. Shortly before graduating, Daphne and I happened to be sitting together. I mentioned that I planned on getting a student work permit and going to England as soon as I graduated. Daphne said that she planned on doing the same thing. We decided there and then, in about five minutes, that we might as well live there together.

That was it. That ONE conversation in The Scrounge changed everything. Several months later, we were in London, where we took this picture. It was connected to a letter we were jointly writing to our friend J. Krimble, explaining what we were up to.**** The words “Exhibit D” are written on the back in Daphne’s writing, so we made some mention of it in the letter and I guess. This was sort of pre-social networking, pre-wireless internet, pre-affordable laptops, so we had no computers with us. ***** We also didn’t have cell phones, and our apartment didn’t have cable, so we had a TV with four or five channels. Basically, our contact with others was limited to ACTUAL HUMAN CONTACT. Which mostly meant each other.

THE EXPLANATION

TIME: Approximately eight weeks after leaving college mid-1990s.

SETTING: The kitchen of our apartment in Kilburn, London. We shared a room in the front of the house. The owner of the apartment had the middle bedroom, and some mysterious and kind of hot tattooed guy lived in the back. I remember talking to him exactly once, when he was borrowing some mustard.

SPECIFICS: Daphne is wielding what is obviously a knife. I am wielding either an electric can opener or an electric knife sharpener. I really don’t think that kitchen had a knife sharpener. I think we only had that one knife . . . which does, when you think about it, actually make a case for the knife sharpener, because you’d have to keep it sharp if that was the only one. But still, I am going to go for can opener.

CIRCUMSTANCES: I genuinely cannot remember what SPECIFICALLY caused us to take this photo, but I definitely remember taking it. I can tell you that we were REALLY, REALLY broke. Our major activities, as I remember them, were mooching for free food and looking for spare change, so this really could have been any night at home for us. Also, this apartment was either the most or least safe of any I have ever lived in. The door had this series of three locks that were more or less impossible to open. We tried for weeks to figure out the system and never quite worked it out, so we discovered that the easiest way to get into our room was to crawl over the trash cans and into the front window. That’s usually what we did. So I guess that we decided to do a kind of tribute to the window-crawling thing, except in the kitchen. Or we might have been drunk. Honestly, I have no idea.

EVEN MORE CIRCUMSTANCES: I should also explain our jobs. I had two. During the day, I was a waitress in the financial district, and at night, I was a bartender in Piccadilly. Daphne got a fancy office job as a receptionist in a theater. In fact, it was the theater where Riverdance was playing. Do you know Riverdance? It’s the Irish step dance show where people hop in place for seventeen hours. This was the summer when Riverdance was THE HOTTEST TICKET IN LONDON. Seriously. Riverdance was in the news EVERY FRICKIN DAY.

We used our two jobs as a way of getting by. From my day job, we got the occasional bag of free food. Daphne would come into the pub on nights I was working, because there was really nothing else to do. On nights when I wasn’t working and we couldn’t take any more television, we’d go stand in the tech booth and watch Riverdance. We saw Riverdance A LOT that summer. We had unlimited tickets to the hottest show in town. And let me tell you, once you have seen Riverdance five or seven times, you have REALLY SEEN RIVERDANCE. Riverdance will start pounding in your head like a thousand tiny hammers.

There was also the night of the Riverdance closing party, where we showed up early to try to eat and drink as much as possible before the cast arrived. Daphne and I have jointly sworn not to ever discuss the details of what went on that night, but I can tell you that we were extremely successful in our mission. At one point, I know I was hiding under a set of stairs from one of the Riverdance drummers, who decided he wanted to move in with us for two weeks, and we might have said some inappropriate things to Michael Flatley***** about his hair . . . and then there was the cab ride home, which inspired the dedication of 13 Little Blue Envelopes. But I’ve already said too much.

ANYWAY, what I am trying to say is here is a photo of the two of us at the very start. We couldn’t have told you at the time where EXACTLY we were going to end up, but we knew we were going somewhere. After we moved back to America, we got an apartment together in New York. Daphne got a job at one of the biggest literary agencies in the city, and I started grad school at Columbia. Daphne climbed her way up, I wrote and wrote . . . it would take over ten years from the time that this photo was taken to get us to where we are today.

What’s the point of all of this? Well, first, I would like to give you some hope. Maybe you are in high school or in college, maybe you think to yourself, “Look at me. I am doomed.” Well, look at this picture. Does this look like a photo of a agent and an author? Does it? It does? Well, whatever. The path is often weird, that’s all I’m saying. Look at us and know you’ll be fine.

The second is that the old saying is true . . . your friends really are the most important thing you have. There are a hundred different instances I could name where Daphne has kept me going, or times that we’ve worked together to figure out the way home, or to find a window for a quick exit.

Plus, I think this photo is in many ways a HINT OF THINGS TO COME! There I am lunging for the camera with some unknown object, and there Daphne is, right with me, backing me up with a KNIFE! Which is what she is like as my AGENT! In fact, I think she should really post this on her official site. I think I should campaign her to do so, with the caption “I WILL CUT A %&*#@ FOR MY CLIENTS” written under it. I encourage you to drop her a line and make this suggestion.

So mainly what I am saying is KEEP THE PHOTOS. They may be useful someday.

* My last blog was republished on io9.com, and one commenter described me thusly: “YA girl-adventures author, posting on her monthly professional blog.” This has had me chuckling for weeks. I think “YA girl-adventures author” is supposed to be an insult, because, you know. Young adults. Girls. Who takes either of THOSE groups seriously? And then the idea that I do this monthly by DESIGN? Like, it’s a marketing plan? It brings a smile to my face every time.
** more than normal
*** Daphne is always referred to as such on this blog, but many of you already know that her name is Kate Schafer Testerman. But she is so used to being called Daphne that she will answer to it and even calls her blog “Ask Daphne”.
**** J. Krimble has displayed this photo on his fridge ever since receiving it. You’ll be hearing more about J. Krimble in the next few weeks, as I am PERFORMING HIS WEDDING CEREMONY on August 14th.
***** I know this will make this seem like this must have been taken in YE OLDE DINOSAUR TYMES, but all of those things have really come about—I mean in full, proper use—in the last ten years. And some might say we are STILL waiting for them to come about I full and proper use.
****** Michael Flatley would go on to create a show called FEET OF FLAMES, which should tell you all you need to know. And honestly, his hair is the ninth wonder of the world. If you met Michael Flatley after five glasses of free wine, you’d start talking about it too.

So, because I am an author and am generally presentable and have shoes and things . . . and because I spend a lot of time online . . . I sometimes get asked to speak at conferences and panels. I laughed until I fell over the first time I was asked, but it’s a fairly regularly occurrence now, and I look forward to those weird, squat water bottles they often give you when you are up at a podium. I can spend a good five minutes of my speech just thinking about those little water bottles. That’s why I smile so much up there.

Anyway, more and more, I get asked to do talks and panels on social media. Lots of times, I don’t even know what people really want these panels or talks to be about. “Social media” is new and big and weird, and there are very few true experts. So they just scoop up whoever is around (like, for example, me) and stick us in front of a room and call us experts.

A panel of experts.

I did one panel very recently, and it broke me. On that day, the MANIFESTO came to me. And now, I want to share it with you.

I took my place up on the dais and immediately looked for my little water bottle. I was seated next to a woman I’d never met. We shared a microphone. I noticed that she had already grabbed it and was CLINGING to it like it might try to escape. I put this down to nerves until the panel started, at which point it became clear that if I ever wanted that microphone, I was probably going to have to engage in some form of physical combat.

My neighbor had a lot to say. She had a MESSAGE. She talked longer than anyone, and over everyone and through everyone. Her message, as far as I could determine, was that the internet is all about getting out there and SELLING yourself.

“I’m a brand,” she said, every minute or so. “I’m always thinking of ways to promote my brand.” It was all brand, brand, brand, brand, brand.

The other thing she said that made my head swivel around uncomfortably was, “Get your message and repeat it OVER AND OVER. Just keep saying your message OVER AND OVER in the same way. Just tweet it and put it out on Facebook OVER AND OVER.”

LET ME TELL YOU A LITTLE MORE ABOUT ME.

She was certainly not the first person I’d heard this from. I hear this almost everywhere I go where there are people talking about social media, and I feel that it is time that I rise up against it. In fact, I did, right there and then. I grabbed the microphone from her grasp and said, “I am not a brand.”

She grabbed the microphone back and started clarifying that she really, really, really is a brand and brands are awesome . . . and the more she went on, the more I thought: I am not a brand. I wanted to whisper it, but that would have been creepy.

Just to be clear on this thing I am not, maybe I should define my understanding of personal branding. A personal brand is a little package you make of yourself so you can put yourself on the shelf in the marketplace and people will know what to expect or look for when they come to buy you. For example, Coke is a brand. When you see Coke, you expect a dark brown effervescent sweet drink that is always going to taste like . . . Coke. McDonalds is going to sell you inexpensive, fast food. The Ritz or the Four Seasons is going to sell you a luxury experience. BP will now be known as the brand that destroys the costal ecosystem of the southeastern United States.

And yes, authors sometimes have these “brands.” Nicholas Sparks is going to sell you a roman . . . love story, excuse me . . .where someone dies of cancer/similar disease at the end. V.C. Andrews will sell you something awesomely insane and creepy. Dan Brown will sell you a series of puzzles, facts, and clues leading to the unveiling of a huge secret. Tom Clancy will sell you something with a submarine or some kind of large weapon in it. You get the idea. I don’t know if any of the above actively works on his or her “brand” . . . (well, V.C. Andrews won’t, since she died in 1986 having written only eight books—her official ghostwriter has written over sixty more in her name since that time, which is pretty impressive work).

I am not saying that it is a bad or dishonest thing to try to sell your work. It is not. What I am saying is that I am tired of the rush to commodify everything, to turn everything into products, including people. I don’t want a brand, because a brand limits me. A brand says I will churn out the same thing over and over. Which I won’t, because I am weird.

So there we were, grappling for the microphone, polar opposites in every way. And then I noticed that when people on the other side of the table were talking, the woman pulled out her phone and started reading messages. She didn’t listen to what the others were saying.

I was having a difficult time listening to all of this.

Some people don’t get it. They don’t get that the internet is a conversation. They think the message only goes one way—out. Things must be shouted. Things must be thrust in your face. Things must be sold.

This certainly applies to what I do. The more the internet expands, the more people—okay, authors, who are a KIND of people—are being encouraged* to go online and PROMOTE, PROMOTE, PROMOTE! To aid in this endeavor, these poor writers are being shipped off to conferences where they roll out people like me under the guise of being experts on something. And in general, the quality of advice is pretty craptastic. “Get a Facebook page!” “Get lots of people to LIKE you!” “SHOUT THE TITLE OF YOUR BOOK AT PEOPLE UNTIL THEY START CRYING AND BUY IT.” Or, more annoyingly, we experts use the genuine language of community (“Make authentic friends!” “Network!”) to do the same thing, just with a softer sell. But it’s still all about selling.

On rare occasions, you get to hear someone amazing, like Cory Doctorow or John Green . . . people who have really good, sound ideas about how to make the internet MORE AWESOME. Personally, unless I’m with them or people like them, I don’t think I really want to do any more of these panels. I’m definitely repeating and boring myself at this point. My message is always:

1. You should probably not be taking advice from me
2. Don’t write boring stuff
3. Have more fun online
4. The people online are real people and they matter
5. Please bring me a snack

There is usually a lot of emphasis on numbers one and five.

I think the divide is pretty basic. I think there are people out there who see the internet as a way of employing the same old techniques of SHILL, SHILL, SHILL. A hundred years ago, they would have rolled up to you in a wagon, shouting about their tonic. Fifty years ago, they would have rolled their vacuum cleaners up to your door.

The other side, the side I am on, is the one that sees an organic internet full of people. Sure, when I have a book come out, I will often say, “Please, could you buy a copy? I need to buy food and post-it notes and hamsters.” But in reality, I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think you would like it. I have a lot of fun writing my books, and hey, if you can buy one, great! I think it’s just as great if you take it out of the library. I write because I actually like doing it, and through some miracle of science, I get paid, so wayhay!

Anyway, we had a fun afternoon, she and I, wrestling for the microphone. Every time I got it for a moment, she instantly dragged it back to talk more about HER BRAND. We were polar opposites, battling it out to the death. The difference was, when I stepped down off the stage, I was greeted by a row of readers who had brought me snacks and just wanted to hang out. I was happy to see them. And I’m not saying the other woman IMMEDAITELY went off and clubbed a baby seal, but I have no evidence to the contrary, so let’s say no more about it.

MY POINT IS . . . it’s early days yet on the internet, and lines are being drawn. We can, if we group together, fight off the weenuses and hosebags who want to turn the internet into a giant commercial. Hence, the manifesto. It goes something like this:

The internet is made of people. People matter. This includes you. Stop trying to sell everything about yourself to everyone. Don’t just hammer away and repeat and talk at people—talk TO people. It’s organic. Make stuff for the internet that matters to you, even if it seems stupid. Do it because it’s good and feels important. Put up more cat pictures. Make more songs. Show your doodles. Give things away and take things that are free. Look at what other people are doing, not to compete, imitate, or compare . . . but because you enjoy looking at the things other people make. Don’t shove yourself into that tiny, airless box called a brand—tiny, airless boxes are for trinkets and dead people.

And remember the previous points one and five.

We still have a shot at this. Let’s do it.

* IT WILL GO ON THE INTERNET OR IT WILL GET THE HOSE

I replied that I thought it was a good idea to get experience in something else. To which someone else then replied: “Why? I’m getting my undergrad in writing and getting into a really good MFA [Master of Fine Arts] program is a big dream of mine.” Then many other people asked why. Why was I saying this? Do I just love the sound of crushing sweet, sweet dreams?

No! On the contrary, I hope to ASSIST you in making your dreams into reality! Since many people seemed curious about this, I thought it best to EXPAND my views into a blog post! Let us talk about MFAs, and let us be candid.

First of all, I don’t really like BAs in creative writing to begin with. But okay. Let’s say you have one, since that was the question. If you are considering an MFA in writing (which is the only kind of MFA I am talking about here), ask yourself this: “What do I hope to accomplish with my degree?”

*pauses while question is answered* Okay. Did you answer:

- to impress people with my fancy schooling
- to stay in school forever
- to find myself
- to delay getting a job
- to annoy my parents
- to figure out if I like writing
- to keep my campus parking permit

. . . WRONG ANSWER! *takes paper, eats*

Let’s get one thing clear . . . NO ONE WILL CARE ABOUT YOUR MFA EXCEPT YOUR MOM. MFAs confer no power. The only thing they technically allow you to do is teach other MFAs, except those jobs usually only go to people with some kind of publication record, many (if not most) of whom won’t have MFAs—or, more annoyingly, to the English MAs who often have mandatory experience teaching Freshman Comp—so don’t rely on it for that. Editors don’t care. Agents don’t care. It doesn’t increase your chances of publication one iota. MFAs are so expensive and essentially useless that they are definitely NOT the place to figure out if you like writing. The ONLY thing you can hope the MFA will do is improve your skills. That’s it. (And there are many people who hold that MFAs make you WORSE, not better. I think mine helped me, but I can definitely see their point.)

Now, if you go right from college to an MFA program, your only life experience up until this point has been in school. I realize that everyone has a life outside of class and everyone has their own story and personality, but . . . you’ve still be in college the whole time. And college is, well, college. Which leads to two potential problems:

THE SIN OF BORING

Up until now, you’ve always been in arenas where people have had to read your work, because you were a student. Once you are out of that arena, you enter a world of fierce competition, where no one has to read a word you write. So you had better be interesting.

Let’s get right down to it—if you are in a writing program, you are kind of paying for people to humor you. If you want to spend two or three years writing dense, tangled narratives about the life and death of your pet parakeet BooBoo,* your teachers and your fellow students may encourage you to stop, but no on can actually stop you without tazing you.** And the reason you may be doing this is . . .

YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MATERIAL YET

The best material and the best method comes from life, life outside of the routine of college. Sure, stuff can happen to you in college—really weird and crazy stuff. But you’d be amazed just how SIMILAR a lot of that weird and crazy stuff is, how a lot of people will have the same stories.

Here’s a little story about ME . . .

“Great!” you may say. “That’s means people will LIKE my story because it will remind them of their own experiences!”

It doesn’t work that way. The key is PERSPECTIVE. You need experience and time to figure out how to frame those events, to realize what they mean in the long run. Plus, you just need MORE STUFF to happen to you outside of the confines of a campus. You need to struggle and have heartache and have to search for a job and a place to live and make important decisions.

The people I saw who really excelled in the MFA program were people who had been out of school at least for a few years. Pretty much all of these people had had jobs. And some people had come from very different fields of study. The difference in the writing was incredible. I mean, even if you are writing about vampires or werewombats . . . you still need to instill your story with an underlying BIG TRUTH about love or loss. Maybe you want to write about a girl who moves to New York to make it big! Awesome! What do you know about that? Have you tried to move to a place and make it big? Have you ever moved anywhere on your own? It’s experience and perspective that give stories depth.

Frankly, I don’t push MFAs on people at all. I did one, and I’m glad, but I don’t think it is what made me. And when I look around at all of my writer friends, I’m the ONLY one (that I can think of) with an MFA. They all had various kinds of experiences. John Green was a hospital chaplain. Ally Carter was an agricultural economist. David Leviathan still is an editor/publisher. Justine Larbalestier has a PhD in semiotics. Scott Westerfeld designed software. Robin Wasserman did her graduate work in scientific history. Cassie Clare worked for the National Enquirer. Meg Cabot ran a dormitory. The list goes on and on.

I had loads of jobs. I was a waitress in a theme restaurant, I traveled around the country with a media company, I worked in theater, I worked with tigers and weirdos and directors who made everyone take off their pants for rehearsal, for management consultants who used incomprehensible jargon . . . and I wrote. I used a lot of what I saw. I used crazy customers. I used the worry of not being able to make the rent. I used the psychology I learned from waiting tables. I used the struggle and loss and uncertainty and excitement and wisdom . . . all from things that happened to me after I left the security of a campus and moved to a city and made it on my own.

And I got an MFA.

Since I HAVE one, let me give you my suggestions for MFA success:

1. Know what you want. An MFA is loosey-goosey enough, so have a goal in mind. Don’t go there to “find yourself.” Go there to sharpen what you already have. But in order to figure out what that is . . .

2. Take a few years between your BA and MFA. Write a lot. Finish something.

3. Research any program you are considering to a fault. An MFA is no place for a safety school. Get into the one you want, or don’t go. Consider the faculty. Look them up. Read their books. Consider their graduates. Are they publishing? Can they demonstrate a clear track record? Consider the classes and programs offered. Do they offer any interaction with the publishing industry in addition to the academic work? Consider the acceptance rate. If they take the majority of people who apply, be wary. Consider how much it costs. Do they offer scholarships or allow you to work while you’re in school? Don’t be afraid to ask these questions.

4. Avoid the “my work is too good for this world” art snobs. MFA programs are full of them.

5. Stick with the people who work hard and write much, for theirs is the path of writeousness. (Sorry for that.) (But it’s true.)

6. Remember that the program is finite. Like the people of Ye Olde Times who used to put up pictures of dancing skeletons to remind themselves constantly that life is short and vanity is foolish, always think about life after your MFA. In fact, live that life as much as you can. Prepare by learning as much as you can about publishing and securing a way of earning income.

I truly believe those six steps will help you have a FULFILLING experience in an MFA program.

I hope this helps. It has certainly helped me break my cycle of NOT WRITING BLOG POSTS FOR A WHILE. This was because I was writing A BOOK. But I am back on the saddle now, so if you need ADVICE on other matters, please let me know.

* Believe me, I have seen this happen.
** They have probably considered this.

Friends, you responded.

There were, in fact, so many donations that I had to call in reinforcements to tally them up. I phoned up my sometimes assistant Roxy Studious, and she rode over on her motorcycle and sat here on my floor and helped me go through your replies and turn them into a FANCY SPREADSHEET.

We went through your replies.

From what we can determine, the people who commented on this blog post collected and donated . . .

. . . are you ready for it? . . .

17, 975 books

I know.

17,975 books

Please note . . . that is NOT the full total of Accio Books! They are still working on that, and we do not yet know which house has won! That is JUST the total from THIS BLOG. Want to see just SOME of those donations? Here is a gallery of pictures of YOUR BOOKS.

And now, the ROLL OF HONOR . . .

DONATED 100 OR MORE BOOKS:

Sarah, Sarah, Jessica, Casie, Joanna, Jennifer, Laney, Nicole, Emily, Kathryn, SingularityStar, EJ, Holly Gray, Jamie, BookwormBeck, Mallory, Devin, Liz Whelan, Meghan, Alice, Kathleen, Shrima, Marie, Annie Sherfield, Barbara Lee, Elizabeth, Maya T, Cara, David, Megan, Stephanie Ruble, Chelsea

YOUR PRIZE: a signed book!

DONATED 250 OR MORE BOOKS:

Julia Jorgenson, Jenna, Annie S, Sarah Hollowell, Nicki, Jacleen, Tenley Nadine, Ashley, Danielle, Helen, M3 Sweatt, Ellie, Meg, Sarah, Maya, Leah, Dee, Stephanie Pavluk, Erin, Tess, Tiffany, Faythe, Hannah, and we seem to have three Marias.

YOUR PRIZE: an ARC of The Last Little Blue Envelope (available later this year)

DONATED 500 OR MORE BOOKS:

Rebecca, Luz & Maria, Alida, Kerstyn, Sophia Arnold, Hannah, Jennifer McCall, Carissa, Marcus, Marlee Grace, and either one or two Megans.

YOUR PRIZE: an acknowledgement in the back of The Last Little Blue Envelope and an ARC

DONATED 1000 OR MORE BOOKS:

Jessie, Rachel, Lois Carlyle, Brenna McCaffrey

YOUR PRIZE: a character in my NEW SERIES will be named for YOU

This is how this works . . .

I’ll be honest . . . I was never expecting this level of donations. I am THRILLED by them. Because SO MANY of you donated SO MUCH, I’m going to have to proceed in an orderly fashion to get your books out, and am most likely going to have to reorder some because this will knock out the stock I currently have at CHEZ MAUREEN.

We did our very best to make sure everyone’s donations were noted. Sometimes, people posted more than once, or had the same name, or didn’t say how many books they had given. We tried our best to doublecheck all of these. If you feel there was a mistake, just let me know!

IF YOU WON A BOOK: send me an e-mail with your full name, your mailing information, and your top three choices for which book you want. I WILL DO MY BEST to honor those requests! But if I can’t, I hope you will accept a different signed book (probably a Scarlett Fever).

IF YOU WON A RARE ARC OF THE LAST LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPE: These will appear sometime late this year. I will hold your names and addresses until they arrive. It is a long wait, but that is because I am still writing the book. BUT YOU WILL SEE IT FIRST.

IF YOU GAVE 500 OR MORE BOOKS AND WILL BE IN THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I’ll need your full name.

IF YOU WON THE GRAND PRIZE: Then your names are Jessie, Rachel, Lois, and Brenna. Your names have been tacked to my storyboard for the new series. Please send me your last names as well, if I don’t have them. YOU will have a character named after you in the new book. NOTE: you may even get my COVETED ROLE of dead body! I will work your names in where I think they fit best.

NOTE IN GENERAL: It will be very helpful to me if you are as specific as possible in your emails, because there are so many of you. If you could write your prize level in the subject line (100, 250, 500, 1000), that would be great. I will need your emails by April 15^th.  I will call in reinforcements and process all the emails in one big batch, probably around the 20^th or so.

THANK YOU AGAIN. For the next post, I will resume my USUAL RAMBLING ABOUT THINGS.

So, about three weeks ago, I got a call from my friends at the Harry Potter Alliance. The HPA is an awesome charity organization run by Harry Potter fandom. To give you some idea of the kind of amazing work the HPA does . . . in a recent drive to raise money for Haiti, the HPA collected OVER $125,000, enough for FOUR AIRPLANES of supplies. Plane one, named Harry Potter, took off on March 10^th:

Plane two, Hermione, took off on the 11^th. Here are just some of the supplies she carried. ALL OF THESE supplies and planes were paid for by READERS:

So that should give you some idea of how serious the HPA is about doing good work. J.K. Rowling herself is a proud supporter.

Okay, so, the HPA called me and said, we’re doing Accio Books again this year, and we would like you to be head of Ravenclaw. Last year, Evanna Lynch (a.k.a. Luna Lovegood in the films) was the head of Ravenclaw. This year, can you do it?

And I was all . . . CAN I? Take over LUNA’S job? You just WATCH me!

Now, you’re probably asking yourself, what is ACCIO BOOKS?

Accio Books is a month-long book drive that began on March 1^st and ends on March 31^st (otherwise known as “March”—it just looked better with the dates in there). Each year, the drive focuses on one particular recipient for the books. This year it is the Mississippi Delta. Why the Delta? The HPA explains it all very eloquently here. And having spoken with the people there who are accepting and giving out the books—the need is dire. I’m talking about libraries that haven’t seen new books come in since the 70s. Empty shelves. A little info:

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, as of 2008 Mississippi was ranked last in median income per capita of all fifty states plus Puerto Rico. In a list of all 50 states and territories, Mississippi is ranked 50th out of 51in terms of citizens over the age of 25 who have graduated high school. The Mississippi Delta, as the poorest region within the state, and one of the poorest regions in the country, faces not only poverty, but low literacy, dilapidated public schools and falling test scores. According to Teach for America, “one-third of the population lives below the poverty line. More than one-third (and as high as 60 percent) of its residents do not hold high school diplomas or GEDs. On average, only 10 percent of low-income eighth-graders score proficient in math, and only 12.5 percent in reading, on national exams.

Those books that are just sitting around WILL make a difference.

Last year, this drive raised over 14,000 books. This year, it’s on track to donate even more. But I need your help. No, I really, really need your help. And your books. See, to spur on the donations, the HPA runs their organization LIKE HOGWARTS. So this is a HOUSE COMPETITION. And like I said, I am the Head of Ravenclaw. And right now, SLYTHERIN IS POUNDING US INTO THE GROUND. I am asking you to give books in the name of Ravenclaw.

STEP ONE: GETTING THE BOOKS

Where can you get the books?

The first place I’d suggest looking is around your house. Chances are, you have some top-quality books around that you have no plans on reading again. Other people could really use those books. Live with your parents? Bet they have some books they have read once and have no plans on reading again. I mean, how many times can you read that Nicholas Sparks book? What about those five copies of Twilight? Surely, you could live with four. Why, perhaps you have one of my books that you are finished with!

So, ransack your house. Then go and ransack your friends’ houses. I’m serious. Ask your friends to bring you a few books they no longer want. Or, just set up a box in the place where you work and have people bring in their books. Send out an email and ask people to give them to you. I’m telling you, send out the word, and in no time you can fill a bag, or a box, or even THE TRUNK OF A CAR.

Another place you can find decent books are yard sales. Or sometimes libraries sell off books for cheap. You can find surprising deals online as well. Sometimes online booksellers have massive sales on some books—so you can buy them and have them shipped directly to the Delta.

What KIND of books can you donate? You can donate YA books, adult books, children’s books, nonfiction books, cookbooks, manga . . . you can donate hardcover or softcover books. The only request is that the books be in reasonably good condition (readable, more or less decent, used is fine). Textbooks and reference books cannot be donated. That’s the only restriction.

STEP TWO: DONATING THE BOOKS

You have two options when it comes to donating the books: you can either donate locally, or you can donate to the Delta. When you donate to the Delta, the books are worth more points, but donating locally is excellent as well.

If you want to donate to the Delta, send the books to:

Delta Center for Culture and Learning
Delta State University
attn. Luther Brown
1417 Maple St.
Cleveland, MS 38733

Note: if you are mailing books in the United States, you can ask for something called Media Mail at the post office. This is WAY CHEAP. You’d be amazed at how many books you can mail for not much money.

If you want to donate locally, all you need to do is take them to any local charity. The Accio Books F.A.Q. page has a number of suggestions for places that accept books! (Very important: books donated to places like Goodwill and the Salvation Army do not count for points.)

ALSO, you may have a local HPA chapter. They can HELP YOU!

STEP THREE: TALLY AND REGISTER THOSE POINTS (CRITICAL!)

Before you donate the books, COUNT THEM. Here is how the point system works:

5 points: for any book donated to a local organization

10 points: for any book donated to the Mississippi Delta

15 points: for any Harry Potter books donated to the Mississippi Delta (because this IS a Harry Potter-based charity organization)

Okay . . . now add it up. Got the number? Good. Go to this page. As you will see, the form is SUPER SIMPLE and it takes about FIVE SECONDS to register the points. For me, the critical part of the page is the little drop-down menu where you sort yourself.

Now, I am the Head of Ravenclaw. It is my HOPE that you will put these points into Ravenclaw. I ASK you to do this. However, if you feel strongly that you must contribute to another house, I WILL UNDERSTAND. I will just be a little sad, that’s all. Also, you need to give as a Ravenclaw in order to get THE PRIZES!

STEP FOUR: GIVE STUFF, GET STUFF

Not only is this a good thing to do, I am going to sweeten the deal. I am going to offer PRIZES. SWEET, SWEET PRIZES. And this isn’t a contest . . . if you give the books, you get the stuff. That’s it. My ONLY condition is that you donate in the name of Ravenclaw. If you donate in the name of another house, you have done a wonderful thing! But to get THESE PRIZES, you must donate as a Ravenclaw.

IF YOU DONATE 100 OR MORE BOOKS: I will send you a signed copy of one of my books. I know. 100:1. But trust me, you can find 100 books.

IF YOU DONATE 250 OR MORE BOOKS: I will send you, as soon as it is available, one of the RARE galley copies of The Last Little Blue Envelope, the sequel to 13 Little Blue Envelopes.

IF YOU DONATE 500 OR MORE BOOKS: I will PUT YOUR NAME in the acknowledgements of The Last Little Blue Envelope (and send you a galley, of course).

GRAND PRIZE . . . IF YOU DONATE 1000 OR MORE BOOKS (which someone in Slytherin HAS DONE): I will NAME A CHARACTER AFTER YOU in my NEW PARANORMAL CRIME SERIES, COMING FALL 2011!

But I’ll only know you donated if you come here and you leave your totals in the comments. You have until March 31^st to do this. (This entire project is based on the honor code, so I am trusting you will be telling the truth. But if you can send a photo, THAT IS EVEN BETTER. For the GRAND PRIZE, I will need photo evidence.)

I will do a full post of names, with photos, showing the world your accomplishments!

TO PUMP THINGS UP, I am doing a livestream show TONIGHT (March 19^th) with fellow Ravenclaw Charlie McDonnell (charlieissocoollike) and a SPECIAL MYSTERY GUEST! That’s at 8pm UK time, 4pm Eastern Standard Time.

OKAY! Get going!

The thing about this, of course, is the sheer AMOUNT of mail we get is considerably larger back in YE OLDEY DAYS before the internet. If you wanted to write an author back then (as I did, as a tiny mj), you first had to look all through the book for some kind of publisher’s address, then you would write something ON PAPER, BY HAND, write the author’s name on the envelope and hope and pray that someday, the letter might get there. I remember writing to an author once this way, and I almost had a stroke when I got a letter back about eight months later. He said I was the only reader who had ever written to him.

But with the INTERNET, everything goes faster, and there is just MORE, MORE, MORE. This explosion has been really recent—REALLY recent. Authors are still figuring out how to deal with the degree of contact we now have with readers. The letters can come in with such ferocity that several authors I know have removed their email addresses from public view—not because they don’t like people—but because there is simply too much. Between writing, answering personal email, doing all the business stuff they have to do (traveling, promotion, editing, reading other books, going to conferences, research, meetings, taxes, contracts, plus maintaining a web presence) . . . PLUS, living their lives, leaving the house, having friends and family, eating food, sleeping at night . . . if they tried to keep up with a public email address as well, THEY WOULD DIE. No, seriously. They would have a heart attack and die.

Everyone has to find his or her own level. I do keep a public email address, because that’s the way I roll. My rule is this: I read every single email. Every single one. But I usually can’t reply to all the notes. At this exact second, just to give you some idea, I have 1,489 notes in my public inbox. That’s just email. There’s also Facebook, where I just found another 576. (And I actually just went through a major clearing out and replying spree, because those numbers were double that.) Plus I talk to people all day long on Twitter.

This is not me trying to tell you HOW VERY POPULAR I AM. This is just to give you some idea of what the average YA writer like me might have going on at any one particular time.

I have decided to take on this topic in my tradition of giving ADVICE. I should point out that while I am trying to write some advice that that I think most authors will be able to get behind, this is just MY OPINION and not the result of any Grand Counsil of Authors that meets in a big, spooky castle and reads all your letters out loud.*

#1 IF YOU ARE NICE, WE LIKE YOU

Know this: if you write to an author and say nice things about us, we like you. We are not going to sit around and judge you on your spelling or your style. We are too busy thinking how much we LIKE YOU for saying nice things to us. Because that is a really nice thing to do, write a note to say that you like someone! So never have any fear that a fan letter will annoy an author. (Well, I certainly know it doesn’t annoy me, and it doesn’t annoy most of the people I know. You’d have to be one mean, mean snake to be annoyed by a kind letter.)

We love it when you get in touch.

#2 COMPLAIN AWAY, BUT DON’T EXPECT US TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

Sometimes, people write to complain to us about our books. Sometimes people don’t like the way a book went, and they write to talk about that. If the letter is friendly and polite, that’s totally fine! Authors understand that people have strong feelings about books. WE have strong feelings about books. We get it. It’s cool. If you just need to talk it out, and you aren’t being mean or crazy, this is acceptable.

But . . . don’t expect us to do anything about it. We write what we write! Not everyone is going to like our choices, but we have to be true to ourselves. Plus, it’s not like we can CHANGE it. By the time you’ve read the book, IT IS FINISHED, so . . . well. Yeah. It’s done.

So, as long as you don’t expect that we’re actually going to go back and rewrite the book, and as long as the letter is friendly, this is cool. Sometimes, you guys know how to write a really funny letter of complaint about the way a story turned out. If you write us a hilarious letter, we love you and mentally give you a high-five.

#3 IF YOU ARE A BIG WEIRDO, YOU BECOME PART OF MY PERSONAL MENAGERIE OF FREAKS

This answer is pretty personal to me, because while pretty much everyone gets letters like the following, we all have different ways of dealing with it.

Below is an actual letter from an actual person, with the identifying bits removed, because I don’t want anyone hassling her.

Maureen

Since my middle-school library doesn’t a have viable collection of Christmas books,  I was eager to add the “Let it Snow” book which included young adult Christmas stories.  It sounded like such a good addition that I ordered five copies thinking than a number of students in my school might want to read it.

As I glanced through one of the copies before cataloging it,  I was startled to read some inappropriate comments about “pole” dancing.**  And it was mentioned in other places in connection with the name ‘Jubiliee.”  I happened to love the name and know someone which that name, so I was appalled by how you trashed it by connecting it to “pole” dancing.  And what is with adding pole dancing at all to a Christmas story for teenagers?

I was so disappointed and disheartened by what looks like a pretty trashy story for my middle school students.  Needless to say I deleted all five copies and discarded them.  Such a waste of resources and money.   This kind of story would never pass my parent committee. but perhaps you don’t care or maybe this book was written for adults rather than kids.

In case you might think that I am a super-sensitive librarian,  I have ordered thousands of books over the years and have a pretty good handle on which comprises good fiction for young adults.

The idea that someone—a LIBRARIAN no less—would only read the first few pages of a book, and then get so put off about a pretty innocent joke that merely refers to pole dancing . . . and then THROW AWAY five copies, taking them out of circulation . . . AND THEN write this utterly craptastic, weirdo letter to me about it, well . . .

I have a file in my inbox called “BIG WEIRDOS” for this exact purpose. The thing about Big Weirdos is that they usually don’t know they are big weirdos, as evidenced by the last line of the letter, in which the sender says that he or she has “a pretty good handle on which [sic] comprises good fictions for young adults.” Clearly, he or she has no such handle, and it has to be a violation of policy to order five books for a library and chuck them in the trash because you didn’t like something in the first three pages.

I use this letter just as an example, because it’s fairly recent, and it’s such a textbook piece of bad form. (And because he or she threw away five books, which, in my court, means that you deserve some kind of public shaming.) These kinds of complaints are as individual as snowflakes. Here is the question I ask myself each time I read one of these strange missives: “What exactly do you think I am going to say to this?” These letters are just long lecture on what you are like as a person, on your standards. It’s stated very clearly in this letter: “  . . . perhaps you don’t care or maybe this book was written for adults rather than kids.” Well, as for the second part of that statement, maybe the sender would have known the answer if he or she had read MORE THAN THREE PAGES. But the first part is what gets me. “Perhaps you don’t care.” I do nothing BUT care. Most of the authors I know do nothing BUT care. We include stuff because we think it is the right thing to do. If you don’t agree, that’s cool. If you send me a letter judging me and my standards, you get filed under Big Weirdos. Why? Because you ain’t got no manners. You’re trying to impose your world view on mine. And trust me, I thought about mine.

But this does not mean I do not want to hear from people like this. Know what I do with my file of Big Weirdos? Do you know how some people collect weird stuff, like the skeletons of two-headed animals, or freaky snakeskins, or stuffed birds of prey? Well, this is my own little collection of strange and wonderful objects. I sit and read them all when I am having a bad day. Your bonkery notes complete me. NEVER STOP SENDING THEM. Shine on, you crazy diamonds!

Welcome to my menagerie, my pretty!

#4 WE CANNOT DO YOUR HOMEWORK

Okay, back to an answer I think most authors, especially YA authors, will be able to get behind. If you want to make a YA author twitch,*** ask him or her about THE HOMEWORK LETTERS. Homework letters are letters requesting help with homework assignments—book reports, presentations, things like that.

Sometimes, people ask for a quote or an interview or answers to a few specifics about the story, and sometimes, authors can reply. But lots of times we can’t—again, not because we are mean and don’t like you, but simply because we do not have time. You can’t rely on our answers as a major component of your assignment. Write to us if you want, BUT ALSO START THE ASSIGNMENT. Look on our websites, if we have them. We may have pages that answer common questions. I have one right here, complete with a long disclaimer about homework right at the top. I tried my best to answer the questions I hear most frequently.

It’s quite common for people to write homework letters with not just one or two but DOZENS of questions. Again, you can send these if you want, but sending DOZENS of questions is probably not a great idea. Ideally, I think maybe three, tops.

Also, it is important to take into consideration the nature of the questions. Here are some actual questions I have been asked (more than once), and my answers.

Can you summarize the book for me?

No, I can’t. I spent a lot of time writing the whole thing out, so that’s the version I would like you to read. Also, it sort of sounds like you didn’t read it.

What are the symbols in this book?

I’m guessing that your assignment is to analyze the book. That is an excellent assignment! You are learning a valuable skill. I would actually be doing you a huge disservice if I even attempted to answer this question—because, again, I would be doing your homework for you. Analytical reading is a critical thing to learn, and if you don’t learn it, you may grow up to be a book banner or the kind of person who throws away five copies of a book after reading three pages.

Also, I think lots of symbols in books are either accidental or subconsciously planted, or even if they are intentional I am still not going to tell you because this is YOUR HOMEWORK.

What is the message/theme of this book?

The message is that I am still not going to do your homework.

What happens at the end of this book?

You didn’t read it, did you?

This paper is due in two weeks/four days/tomorrow/six hours so please answer these questions right away! I have included my phone number so you can just call me if that is easier.

Okay, this is the part that really makes us go nuts. It’s really rude to assume that an author—a professional adult person—is going to stop everything they are doing to deal with your homework. It just is. Maybe that sounds mean. I really hope it doesn’t, because I don’t mean it in a mean way. But this is something that really needs to be said. Also, I don’t think you should ever pass your phone number out to strangers.

(On this phone number note . . . Scott Westerfeld tells me that he once had a parent track down HIS phone number and call him to get homework answers for her kid. Parents: you should not be writing to us and doing your son or daughter’s homework. And for sure, you should not be calling us, because that means you are crazy. BOUNDARIES. WE HAZ THEM.)

I’ll get in trouble if you don’t reply . . .

Points for effort, but we are totally on to you. No responsible teacher would ever take you down a grade because a public figure didn’t reply to your letter.

So what does all of this mean? Am I saying that you shouldn’t write to authors and ask questions? NO WAY! You can absolutely do so! I’m just saying you shouldn’t:

- expect or depend upon a reply, because we might not be able to answer you, for all kinds of reasons

- impose deadlines on us, because that is just rude

- ask us things that are clearly and obviously the part of the assignment that you are supposed to do—or are things you could learn if you simply read the book

Most authors I know will do what they can to answer questions about what inspired the story or things like that—if they have time. Again, check to see if they haven’t answered these already on their websites or in interviews! The answer may very well be out there.

I really hope that none of this comes across as a rant. These are just my suggestions based on my experiences. And again, the most important thing is . . . WE REALLY DO APPRICIATE YOUR LETTERS. The only ones that are problems are the ones that are all GIMME, or DO THIS, or YOU SUCK AS A PERSON. And even then, it’s not like we hate the people who send those.**** They just aren’t very effective. And a lot of this is just general advice on how to write letters to ANYONE.

Any questions? Thoughts? LEAVE THEM IN THE COMMENTS!

* But how cool would that be, right?

** Here’s the entire pole dancing mention she’s referring to–it’s in the fifth paragraph, on the first page: “I realize Jubilee is a bit of a stripper name. You probably think I have heard the call of the pole. But no. If you saw me, you’d get the idea pretty quickly that I’m not a stripper.” That’s it. That’s the reason five books went in the trash.

*** And really, I couldn’t blame you if you did.

****  . . . usually

Well, for ONE thing, I’ve been fixing up this site! See, parts of the site were wobbly and hard to update. So this entire blog–this entire site, in fact–was moved over to Wordpress. It was recreated PIECE BY PIECE by Rexroth Implausible of Unfeasible-Implausible Enterprises. Every single page has been updated and will continue to be so! It’s a LIVE WIRE! What new things can you find here? Well, how about a bunch of new appearances on the bulletins page! An updated bio page! An updated FAQ with an exciting new MAILING ADDRESS where you can SEND THINGS!

I know. It is a lot to take in.

In the meantime, some of you have had questions. Now I shall ANSWER a few.

CommentorX asks: If you boss told you you had to write about a girl falling in love with a monster, but not a vampire, werewolf, or zombie, then what?

I guess my first question would be, WHO’S YOUR BOSS? Because that is a totally weird thing to ask, especially if you are, like, a surgeon. Are you a surgeon?

Unless that was a hypothetical question and you were asking me, in which case I would say bigfoot.

accio_awesome asks: Do you need an intern for the summer?

In need help, generally, what with the writing and internet stuff and all these hamsters I take care of. But I honestly cannot even imagine what my intern program would be like.

Lola asks: Can I send you my copies of your books to the mailing address you have on your site so that you can sign them? (I will provide an extra SASE, plus $ for shipping)

If you send a book with an envelope that has all the correct postage on it so I can sign it and pop it back in the mail, then sure! Just make sure it’s correct, so your book doesn’t get lost!

If you leave MORE questions below, I will ENDEAVOR TO ANSWER THEM. In any case, BLOG SERVICE HAS RESUMED!

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I come to you this evening to tell you why Dan Brown is right and everyone else is wrong, and why Robert Langdon is the hero we need.

I think Dan Brown was tired of Jason Bourne, James Bond, Jack Bauer, Indiana Jones, and John McClane and decided to make us what we really want . . . a nebbishy hero whose name does not contain a J. Someone who is not fearless, but deeply fearful. A reading of The Lost Symbol alone reveals his fears of: planes, elevators, running in loafers, spontaneous speaking, basements, long hallways, rats, stairs, fast driving, catwalks, and tiny conveyor belts. This is a man who wears turtlenecks because he is afraid of ties.

This is also a man who could not save his own ass with a two-handed ass-saving machine, so he is incapable of helping anyone else. Indeed, he never saves the damsel in distress—she is saved from death twice, once by herself, and once by the CIA. On the first occasion, not only does Robert Langdon not save her life, but she is forced to drive herself across down in her own Volvo, crash into the steps of the Library of Congress, and fling herself into his arms just to show her appreciation for just how much he has not done.

He spends most of the book having absolutely no idea what is going on. Like a cat lost in an airport, he dodges and weaves his way around massive, frightening figures. He repeatedly denies the reality of everything that is happening. “What the hell?” he asks. “You cannot be serious.” “But that’s not real.” He is periodically lifted up and carried from place to place, and set down again in increasingly uncomfortable surroundings. He will go anywhere he is told to go, even if that place is completely crazy—like on to a plane at a moment’s notice at the invitation of a stranger, down the book chute of the Library of Congress, or to the house of a known madman. Ten hours after the ordeal, he allows Peter “The Stump” Solomon to blindfold him and push him around Washington DC—into black cars and ominous elevators. When Katherine tells him to go to the top of the dome of the Capitol building, he goes. If your parents ever used the “if your friends all jumped out the window would you do it too?” line on you, they were talking about people like Robert Langdon, who would not only jump out the window because his friends told him to—he would do it because anyone told him to.

He would like nothing more than to cave in to any and all demands placed upon him. In Mal’ahk’s house of horrors, he is subdued within seconds of walking in the door, and when forced to give up the secrets of the pyramid or die, he trips over himself in his effort to give up the secrets as quickly as possible. A beloafered jerk in a Mickey Mouse watch whose only known routine is his daily swim and subsequent hand-grinding of coffee beans . . . Robert Langdon would like nothing more than to be left alone to study weird puzzles and dead languages and teach the surprisingly dimwitted and slavishly devoted students he openly despises. But sadly, his phone always rings, and he must do whatever the voice on the other end tells him.

At the end of the book, when he is busy not making out with Katherine, she gives him a suggestive hug and says, “How can I ever thank you?”

Missing the hint entirely, he delivers the great truth of the novel. “You know I didn’t do anything, right?” he says.

Now, in saying all of that, you may think that I may be suggesting that the book or its characters are deficient. Far from it. Dan Brown just saw that the world was ready for a completely unironic, unsexy, inept, scaredycat, easy-bleeder, indoor-kid, nerd hero who succeeds not by trying, but by being forcibly pushed into danger, which he quite sensibly hates and wants to avoid. He is the opposite of a Boy Scout—he is never prepared. This unpreparedness is the key to his success—had he known what was going to happen, he most certainly would have hid.

How does Robert Landgon roll? He rocks some Saturday New York Times crossword puzzle in pen. He likes comfy chairs and smooth rides and looking at the decorations. He doesn’t know what Twitter is. He’s like your grandpa, but he’s not as cool as your grandpa. He’s that guy at the party who will just not shut up about the things he saw in Rome. You could kick his ass, even if you are twelve years old and armed only with a bag of goldfish. This is why, to use a word he despises, Robert Langdon is awesome. Adventure comes to the lazy, nerdy, and easily influenced. You too—armed with your comprehensive understanding of signage and your workmanlike knowledge of Klingon—you too might be called. You too can defeat the big bad, no matter how big, oiled, hairless, and tattooed he is—even if you do so almost completely by accident.

And in what forms does danger come? It comes in SUDOKU. Because, just as you suspect, the forces of good and evil spend all of their free time making codes and building puzzle cities. Everyone in power is full-tilt-boogie crazy, secrets are the building blocks of the universe, and absolutely everything is interesting if you are just boring enough to see that fact.

This is the world I want to live in, and this is the world Dan Brown has shown to me.

The man, the myth, the loafers