Jackie’s 17 Steps for Drafting Your Young Adult Novel

I’M BAAAAACK! MISS ME, BITCHES?

It’s been a nutty couple of months. I’ve been doing job searching while also finishing a draft of a Young Adult novel (aka YA for the uninitiated). It may or may not ever see the light of day (aka the shelves of a bookstore), but I’m pretty proud of having finished it. So proud, in fact, that I thought I’d share the wisdom I gained throughout the writing process for all my 17 blog readers. YOU’RE WELCOME.

Step 1: Come up with an original, never-before-imagined idea for your book. HAHAHAHAHA LOL J/K THERE’S NOTHING NEW UNDER THE DYSTOPIAN CHILD-KILLING-GAMES-MY BOYFRIEND-IS-A-VAMPIRE SUN; pick your poison, put your twist on it, and move on.

Step 2: Draft a detailed outline of your book, including key plot developments, character introductions, and emotional arcs. This one is easy: open a word doc and begin with Chapter 1. Then, halfway through outlining Chapter 1, give up and just begin to wing it because who has time for this shit?

Step 3: Write about 5,000 words of your book and feel pretty good about it. You know what? This isn’t half-bad! Teens would like this, right? RIGHT?

Step 4: Re-read your first 5,000 words and realize they are TERRIBLE. Oh my God, my dog could have written this. Why am I even trying? WHY AM I EVEN ALIVE?

Step 5: Cry

Step 6: Remember the E.L. James is a published author of poorly-written plagiarized fan-fiction and get your shit together. YOU CAN DO THIS, YOU WILL DO THIS!

Step 7: Get to 25,000 words and feel pretty good about it. You like your protagonist, and you hate your villain. There’s real conflict here, and some humor. You’re a good writer, you really are!

Step 8: Re-read the 25,000 words and remember that you are the worst writer to ever walk the Earth and also a terrible human being. OH GOD WHY DID I DO THIS? I’m a worthless hack. I’m going to go eat everything now.

Step 9: Cry while curled up into a ball on your bed and devouring a bag of pretzel twists dipped in an ENTIRE TUB of cream cheese while re-watching Star Trek: Voyager on Netflix. To be fair, this is my coping mechanism for all my setbacks in life, not just writing-related fails.

Step 10: Remember that if she could see you now, Captain Janeway* would tell you buck the fuck up, guzzle some black coffee, and get back to work, Ensign! I’m sorry, Kathryn, I was weak. I WILL KEEP WRITING RIGHT AFTER I STOP THAT WARP CORE BREACH AND PREVENT THE BORG FROM ASSIMILATING THE SHIP, CAPTAIN!

Step 11: Read a really good book by an excellent author and come to peace with the fact that you will never be that good but at least you can write grammar real good; and know how to do punctuation and stuff and things.

Step 12: Damn it.

Step 13: Finish your draft! Wow, what an accomplishment! Even if no one reads this, you’ve written a fucking book–how many people can say that?

Step 14: Go on Twitter and realize everyone and their mother has written a YA book just like yours. Fuck.

Step 15: Edit your manuscript which primarily deals with the lives of teens and realize that you have no idea about the lives of teens. I think I made a reference to desktop computers in there…do kids even use computers these days? Or do they operate their smartphones via chips embedded in their brains that allow them to send Snapchats with the firing of a single neuron? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS? I guess I could ask an actual teen, but…ew, amirite?

Step 16: Shake your fist at the sky and curse the day that the first members of Generation C were born. Little bastards expecting their lives to be accurately depicted in literature–don’t they know that you are OLD AF RN?

Step 17: Remember that Generation C will soon supplant your Millennial Generation as the most hated of all time. Steeple your fingers while laughing maniacally at their forthcoming generational pain. NOW GO BUY MY BOOK, KIDDOS!

THE END

*I apologize for the obligatory Star Trek reference as I know certain people (ahem, L**) think all I do is talk about “Star Trek, Star Trek, Star Trek,” but I’ve basically just embraced being a ridiculous obsessed nerd so…yeah, get over it.

**J/K, L, you know I love you.

Accurate Wedding Hashtags You Won’t See on Insta This Summer

It’s Memorial Day, which means wedding season has officially begun! I adore going to the beautiful weddings of people I love (luckily for me, because I have four to attend before the year is out!), but I gotta be honest: I’m pretty iffy the #millennial trend of #weddinghashtags. Practically, I get that it’s helpful to aggregate social media photos of the wedding, but also…isn’t that what the professional photog’s getting paid $150 an hour to do? I do think hashtags would be more fun if, instead of some cute pun on the future spouses’ names, they revealed key truths about the couple in question. However, it’s probably not gonna happen, so I’ve compiled a list of accurate wedding hashtags you won’t see on insta this summer for your entertainment:

#audreyissettlingformark

#weshouldhavesignedaprenup

#thirdtimeisprobablynotthecharm

#grandmasgonnadiesoonsothisisforher

#anastasianeedsagreencard

#thisweddingcostmorethanyourhousehaha

#yougiveussixmonthstopsandweagree

#allthebridesmaidsactuallyhatejennifercuzshesabitch

#boywesuredolovemasonjarsdontwe

#werereligiousandreallywanttohavesex

#imnottakingbradsnameandheispissedeventhoughclaimstobefeminist

#werecheapsoitsacashbar

#ihavecoldfeetbutmydadpaidalotofmoneyforthis

#imsansastarksothisisnotgoingtoendwell

#wedidntknowitwasaslaveplantationwhenwebookedthevenuenowgetoffourbacks

#wehaventdiscussedwhetherwebothwantkidsyetsothatwillgowell

#youwouldneverhavesetfootinclevelandwereitnotforthiswedding

#momwantsgrandkids

#ourmarriagewillbenothinglikemyparentsright

#amyspregnantsohereweare

Cheers to happy couples everywhere! 😉

*Disclaimer to everyone whose weddings I am attending this summer: lol this is not you. Except maybe the mason jars one, because come on, who DOESN’T love mason jars? My wedding is gonna take place in a fucking mason jar, people!

The Hysterical Woman Experiment (A-Z Challenge)

Dear LadyWomen Friends of the Moon Cycle,

It’s 2016, and I, like all women in the US, know that sexism and misogyny are over, thanks to the generations of women (AND MEN, DON’T FORGET THE MEN!) who sacrificed so much to ensure that we are treated equally at school, home, work, and da club. It’s just wonderful to live in such an enlightened age.

Sometimes, though, I wonder–what would it have been like to live in a time when women still suffered from actual discrimination? For instance, did you know that many women in the 19th century were often diagnosed with “female hysteria” in order to prevent them from fully participating in modern life outside the home? Just try to imagine what it would have been like for someone to, say, doubt your qualifications or competency for a job just because you’re a woman! I know it sounds like an impossibility, but it used to happen all the time.

If, like me, you’re interested in taking a walk in the shoes of our ancestors, I have good news for you: even today, certain sexist reactions can be elicited from others if we carefully and intentionally provoke them by engaging in certain outrageous, hysterical female behaviors, listed below. Try them out, and at the end of this experiment you’ll be able to say that you, like generations of women before you, have been called a “hysterical woman.”

Behavior #1: Ask for a raise at work. I know, I know, you would never do this, but it’s worth it for the result. Once your manager explains that you don’t yet deserve a raise despite working twelve hour shifts six days a week for three years, make sure to press the issue, explaining your commitment to the job and the fact that your colleague James makes 30% more than you do in the same position, and he’s only been here for eight months. This should definitely trigger the desired reaction! Your manager will begin by telling you “not to get so upset,” and will express disappointment that you’re not the “hard-working team player” he thought you were. You will then be fired, and that’s when your manager will exhort you to “not get hysterical” as you sob while packing your family photos in a cardboard box with security hovering nearby.

Behavior #2: Discuss your field of study, area of expertise, or job with a man. This one is tricky, because you have to engage with the man and push back to tease out the correct response. Here’s an example conversation–hopefully you’ll be able to figure out exactly when the woman’s behavior becomes hysterical enough to warrant reproach.

Joe: Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Joe, I’m an accountant!

Laura: I’m Laura, I’m a–

Joe: Accounting is really fascinating; I do tax accounting. Do you need your taxes done? I could show you how!

Laura: –physician.

Joe: Oh, a doctor, huh? Let me guess, you’re one of those “ladyparts” doctors, right?

Laura: Actually, I specialize in nephrology, which is–

Joe: Oh, yeah, I know all about that. My uncle is a doctor. He told me I would have made a great doctor. So you check for skin cancer and stuff, right?

Laura: No, that’s a derm–

Joe: See, if I were going to be a doctor, I’d go for something really hardcore, like kidney transplants or something. Or–

Laura (annoyed): I do specialize in kidney transplants! A Nephrologist is a kidney specialist!

Joe (throws up hands, backs away, defensive): WOAH WOAH WOAH! NO NEED TO GET HYSTERICAL, HONEY!

Behavior #3: Express a genuine emotion. This one is great because it applies anywhere–at work, school, and even in relationships! For instance, when your partner stays out until 2 a.m. drinking without answering his phone or telling you where he is and you think he’s dead, tell him with tears in your eyes how worried you were, and you’ll be a “hysterical bitch” within minutes! If you’re walking down the street to yoga class, show genuine anger when a man tells you he’d like to lick whipped cream off your tits, and you’ll be “a hysterical crazy whore” instantly! And at work, if you intimate any irritation that James from marketing stole your new sales pitch, he’ll immediately tell your boss how “oversensitive” and “pushy” you are, which easily leads to being “hysterical.” Try expressing emotions all over the place and make note of the results in between your horrified sobs.

Behavior #4: Seek medical treatment, especially if you are poor, fat, disabled, or a woman of color. This one works best if your patience has already been pushed to its absolute limit by having your symptoms dismissed by multiple practitioners over a period of several months. If you’re already at your wits’ end, you’ll probably cry when the LATEST doctor dismisses your PMDD and chronic migraines while telling you that you’d probably feel better if you just lost ten pounds–and as you know by this point in the experiment, crying always brings on the “H” word.

Behavior #5: Say things on the internet. There are SO many ways to try this behavior–Facebook, Twitter, even WordPress blogs. Just set up your account, and then type a status message or post, and watch the accusations of hysteria crowd your mentions! If you’re short on time and want to accelerate the process, make sure to comment on one of these topics right off the bat: politics, video games, dating, rape, abortion, food, women’s rights, lgbt rights, discrimination, body positivity, black lives matter, racism, Obama, Jezebel.com, comic books, comic book adaptations, geek culture, trees, clouds, birds, bees, soup, band aids, transgender people peeing.

And, finally…

Behavior #6: Complain that someone called you hysterical. This behavior is best saved until the end of your experiment as a kind of “hysterical-squared” out-of-body rage-inducing experiment. Tell anyone–your mom, your best friend, your coworker, your dog–about being called “hysterical” in any of the situations above, and prepare for the cherry on top of the sexist flashback sundae: “Well, are you sure you weren’t acting just a little hysterical?”

I hope you enjoy the experiment! Just don’t try to write a paper on it, okay? This topic will most likely be denounced as a frivolous exercise and waste of resources, and you don’t want your peers to think you’re being hysterical.

-Jackie

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, but please, don’t get hysterical.

On Writing II: The 15 Stages of Choosing a Book Title

All writers know the extreme pressure of having to choose a book title. No matter how epic your sci fi fantasy semi-autobiographical post-apocalyptic vampire romance novel may be, if you don’t name it something somewhat catchy, ain’t NOBODY gonna read it.

Screen Shot 2015-10-21 at 7.59.41 AM — Actual title and pseudonym I may have considered at some point

The issue is, choosing a good title is like going to buy a pair of jeans: you think it will be easy and only take thirty minutes, but instead you end up sobbing and berating yourself after hours of fruitless effort.

Don’t believe me? Well then, I present to you the 15 VERY REAL stages of choosing a book title:

Stage 1: Finish writing your book and editing your manuscript. Write down the first title that comes to mind – it’s perfect, and cute, and catchy, and everyone will like it! Now on to the query letter…

Stage 2: As you’re about to send out your polished query letter, decide to Google your chosen title just to make sure no one else (or very few others) have used it before. You’re sure that all will be well because you’re so clever and original and definitely the only person who’s ever thought of this adorable turn of phrase, but better safe than sorry!

Stage 3: FOUR MILLION OTHER BOOKS HAVE THIS TITLE OMFG ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME.

Stage 4: Cry.

Stage 5: Spend hours scribbling possible titles on scraps of paper, hate all of them.

Stage 6: Find a title you don’t completely hate and yell “MWAHAHAHAH TITLE GODS I DEFY YOU!” while shaking your fist in the air.

Stage 7: Send out queries with new title, get agent*. Agent reads MS and is like, “Overall pretty good; change these things, and also the title sucks.”

Stage 8: Cry.

Stage 9: Procrastinate trying to find a new title by meticulously addressing all of agent’s edits.

Stage 10: Procrastinate trying to find a new title by knitting.

Stage 11: Procrastinate trying to find a new title by cleaning out your closet.

Stage 12: Procrastinate trying to find a new title by drinking.

Stage 13: After fortifying yourself with alcohol, go back to your scribbles, scribble more title ideas. Cry.

Stage 14: After like 12 back and forth emails with agent, finally choose a new title. Agent submits MS to editors.

Stage 15: Wait and resign yourself to the likelihood that if your book is sold that the publisher will immediately want you to change the title. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

AND SO THE WAITING HAS BEGUN. MAY THE FORCE BE WITH ALL MY WRITER PEEPS OUT THERE!

*Of course, getting an agent takes a while, but that’s an entirely different post. My agent is Sharon and she is great and despite the snark in this post I am very grateful that she told me to think up new titles because my original ones did, indeed, suck. ❤

The Ten Worst Things about Europe: Eurotrip 2015, Part Deux/Due

As promised earlier this week, I’m back with my list of the Ten Worst Things about Europe. BE WARNED: THIS LIST CONTAINS PICTURES OF MY LEG AND ANKLE! (This warning is mostly relevant to any of my readers who have traveled in time from the nineteenth century. If you are reading this, sorry for lewd images, and also can I borrow your Tardis?).

10. Getting this bruise:

So I guess it’s kind of hard to see in that picture, but my first afternoon in Paris I was walking along the Rue Montorgueil (or as my non-French-speaking friends called it, the “Rue Mononmont…ugh, whatever”) and it was raining, like, SUPER hard, and I slipped in front of a bunch of skinny, smoking French people, and fell on my knee hard and it hurt like a motha, and the bruise is still there and going strong. MERDE!

9. Rain: This is a continuation of number 10, I guess, but it rained hard three days when I was in Europe and THIS WAS BULLSHIT. Didn’t Europe know that it was me, Jackie, who was coming to visit it? It couldn’t have held off on the rain for, like, one more week out of courtesy? THANKS A LOT, EUROPE. This would never have happened in California.* (On the plus side, I guess Europe does look pretty cool in the rain, see below).

Siena in the rain. Pretty awesome, actually.

8. Air France: Ok, this one isn’t funny and I don’t have a pic, but basically those assholes stole 216 bucks from me and I hate them and am never flying them again. It’s a long story but if you really care you can check out my Twitter from this morning lol.

7. Hangovers: When I was last in Europe, I was twenty years old and could literally club all night and drink endless wine without any repercussions. Now that I am thirty this is most definitely not the case. I paid dearly for this concoction, for instance (but, my God, was it delicious):

6. These shoes:

So...chic? Ugh. — They speak for themselves

So this is also a result of #9 – the evil RAIN. My friend T and I were walking in the rain in Toms shoes to the Louvre, which was ill-advised on many levels, and we had no choice but to stop at a random shoe store and try to find waterproof shoes in our size. Sadly, the only shoes available in my size were these (though T picked up a decent blue/black glittery pair which she threw out – bad decision, T!). Apparently, the French have tiny feet. The worst part was that I had to wear the above shoes with these pants:

The patterns really mesh well, don't you think? — The patterns really mesh well, don’t you think?

Not chic, guys.

5. The number on this scale:

Who am I kidding? I’ve been too afraid to get back on this old horse. No matter how much walking I did, no way it made up for this:

TIRAMISU – I know I put this in the last post but it was SO GOOD.

4. Bugs: The bugs in Europe are surprising vicious. I was attacked by one especially horrid one in the courtyard of the Florence Basilica, leaving me with these scars two whole weeks later:

What I’m really saying is, the bugs in Europe hate Jesus. Yeah, that’s it.

3. Smoking: Look, we Americans may be fat with big feet and cover all of our meals with melted cheese, but at least we’re not constantly inhaling poisonous fumes and blowing them all over other people. I swear, no one in Europe can go twenty seconds without lighting up. I’m kind of allergic, so this is genuinely awful for me.

2. Hot guys: Too many of them. There’s such a thing as an embarrassment of riches, Europe. Though they’re all skinnier than I am, so that helped matters.

1. Paper and Candle Stores: Ok, Europe, what the hell – do you want me to be INCREDIBLY BROKE? YOU HAVE STORES THAT SELL JUST PAPER AND JUST CANDLES EVERYWHERE. Just LOOK at this beautiful effing fan I bought:

It's not ok that it is this beautiful — It’s not ok that it is this beautiful

I spent, like, twenty euros on this fan. When, you may ask, am I ever going to use this fan? NEVER, THAT’S WHEN. But it is so pretty and made of hand-painted paper!

Also, LOOK AT THIS CANDLE:

Welp, there's another 20 Euro down the drain — Welp, there’s another 20 Euro down the drain

It looks like it’s made of glass, AND IT’S A WAX CANDLE. COME ON, ITALY. IS THIS A JOKE? I’M GOING TO LIVE IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER AFTER THIS TRIP.

Don’t get me started on the soap stores. I just didn’t go into them. I would have had to declare bankruptcy if I had.

So, yeah, these are my top ten complaints about Europe. As you might imagine, this was my face when I had to leave:

BUT I DIDN'T BUY ALL THE CANDLES IN EXISTENCE I CAN'T LEAVE YET! — BUT I DIDN’T BUY ALL THE CANDLES IN EXISTENCE I CAN’T LEAVE YET!

Love ya, Europe. Never change! xoxo Jackie

*I am aware that it is actually a bad thing that it never rains in California. I am not making light of the drought, which hopefully will be alleviated by El Niño. Chill out, guys. I care about the environment, GOD.