Movies I Love: Being Elmo

Here's something unusual about me: I almost never, ever cry at fictional movies or books. This is especially odd because, in real life, I'm a crier. I mean, I'm not in tears every day or anything, but there's usually a leaky face involved if I'm really upset.

But with a movie or book, no matter how wrapped up I get in the story, there's something that keeps me from crossing that line. I'm talking like the beginning of Up didn't even bring on the waterworks. That's kinda messed up, people.

I can only assume that either I am the kind of cold-hearted being that moves Paula Abdul to song or that there's a part of my subconscious that is hearing the story but also peeking behind the curtain and studying the craft. A part of me just knows it's not real.

Which means that as soon as my synapses are convinced that something is real, all bets are off. Show me the old people choir from Young at Heart, an episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition or even a mildly decent audition on The X-Factor and I. am. a. hot. mess. It basically takes next to nothing for there to be liquid dripping down my face. (Yeah, I'm not a pretty crier either.)

This is all a very convoluted segue into talking about the documentary I got an advanced screening of last night: Being Elmo. It tells the story of Kevin Clash, the puppeteer behind (you guessed it) Elmo and how he literally turned his lifelong dream into reality.

Just like 99% of the human population, I have a very soft spot in my heart for the Muppets. I was five when we moved to America and I went into Kindergarten not speaking any English. My uncle's girlfriend advised my parents that I should watch The Muppet Show and Sesame Street (and soon after Muppet Babies). And I did. I ask of you, who better to learn English from than Fozzie Bear and Animal? Wocka, wocka, wocka is an American idiom I have found thoroughly useful in many-a scenario.

I also have an extremely soft spot for any real-life stories having to do with following impossible dreams, perseverance, determination, hard-won success, and anything of that ilk.

Add to all of that...Kevin Clash is a very nice man. A very humble, compelling, talented man with the most incredibly supportive (and adorable) parents I've ever seen.

I actually interned at Sesame Workshop when I was in college and I got to see a lot of the Muppeteers first hand (I even helped Big Bird put on his costume once!). It was a surreal experience. But the best part of it was, they were all so nice. And so genuinely happy to do the job they'd been doing for years at that point.

All this to say...Being Elmo is an outstanding, uplifting, wonderful film.

And I cried like a baby.

See if the trailer alone doesn't get ya!

Oh the Humanity: The Horror of the Self-Imposed Book-Buying Ban

 This is my to-be-read pile:

And I am currently in a self-imposed book-buying ban until I finish all of them.

This is painful and I need some virtual sympathy; I had a feeling you'd understand.

I don't want to be on a book-buying ban. I hear about books every day that I'd like to pick up. I once told a friend of mine that I've basically never left a bookshop without at least buying two books.

Which means that I now can't enter bookshops. This is the equivalent of banning a caffeine addict from Starbucks. Or Gilderoy Lockhart from talking about himself. I feel like I have the literary shakes.

But I have to be strong and curb the spending just a little, at least for the next month or so. I suppose I should take heart in the fact that I have some pretty exciting reads headed my way.

At the same time,  I would be remiss if I didn't mention that one of the things I love most about books is that--as long as I live--I will never run out of ones I want to read. There will always be amazing, inspiring, wonderful stories out there to discover. I find that comforting.

Just maybe not right now.

On the bright side though, while torturing myself by visiting online bookstores, I discovered that The Mapmaker and the Ghost is now listed on IndieBound and Books-A-Million. Hooray! (And, no, self, I did not buy anything during said visits. Always so suspicious!)

Dear Chapter Two

Dear Chapter Two [of the WIP],

So, listen...I'm going to get straight to the point. What is up with you, Chapter Two? There I was, bumbling along through my first draft. I hit you and all seemed fine. Then I hit the middle of you and...that's it. Standstill. Road block. Possibly even dead end?

I don't know if you know this, Chapter Two, but two is a really low number. I think you'd be hard pressed to find a novel that ends on Chapter Two. Much less the middle of Chapter Two. I'm not saying you and I couldn't be post-post-post-modernist pioneers together but, I don't know, let's just go over this rationally, okay?

See, the thing is, there are things that need to happen in Chapters Four, Ten and Twelve. Things that I'm pretty excited about writing. Things that--if you really thought about it--I'm sure you'd be excited to help set up. But there's this whole "all-those-numbers-come-after-two" thing that we need to consider. I don't think an editor or the world at large will really budge on that.

I can guess what you're thinking. Maybe you're tired of being the number two. I mean, everyone loved you on Card Sharks, but was it just an empty, shallow kind of love? Did you feel used? Or maybe you're tired of all the celebrity. Starring in all those songs and the titles of Olsen Twin movies. It's understandable, Two. Anyone would be exhausted.

Let's just do this gently. You help me out this weekend and then I'll leave you alone for a good long while. I'll move on to Chapter Three. I promise not to dwell on making you perfect or, even, good. I will totally settle for simply "finished."

Deal?

Your friend,
Sarv

The Top 7 Things I Learned From My Final Proofread [Cue Synth Music]

Yesterday, I sent off the final, final, finalest version of my manuscript for The Mapmaker and the Ghost. Whatever's in there gets printed into a hardcover book and I will never have a chance to change anything about it ever again.

That is totally not freaky. No not at all.

And this is not an image of me peeking out in horror at my manuscript from underneath the covers.

And to prove how not freaky it is, I have made a soothing list!

Here are the top 7 things I learned from my final proofread:

1) Why yes, the epic synth lick from Europe's The Final Countdown can totally play in your head as you read all 245 pages of your manuscript. Sometimes accompanied by visuals of GOB Bluth performing "illusions." Oh, wait. I'm supposed to be concentrating?

2) I really thought I knew when to use commas. It turns out, I don't. I think I'll just own it and from now on will, haphazardly, place them, as I see,,,fit.

3) Which is sure to make me really popular with proofreaders everywhere.

4) Speaking of which, can I say how much I am in awe of them? Not only are they keeping track of all the grammar, comma, m-dash mistakes that I'm making, but they are also checking for continuity, accuracy and--sometimes--even character development. Wow.

5) Regular erasers don't really work on colored pencil. Which is a problem when you have a random freakout, change an entire paragraph thinking it's about a different character than who it's actually about, and then realize your mistake and need to erase all your notes in the margin, finally ending with a hearty: STET, Please ignore my comments [I'm a moron].

6) Wow. So, this story is really, truly going out into the world. It's exciting, thrilling and scary all at the same time. For a long time, it was my story and I physically knew the handful of people reading it. All of that is about to change...

7) No, seriously...how on earth did I never know that I'm a comma dunce?

When Your Fifth Grade Teacher Turns Out To Be Kinda Psychic

This weekend, I was at my parents' house and I specifically sought out something I know I've wanted to share on my blog for a while. It was this:

...which is my fifth grade yearbook.

Inside, is an inscription from my fifth grade teacher, one that I've never forgotten since the day it was written:

That says:

Dear Sarvenaz,
I expect to read a novel written by you one day. Keep up the good writing. Lots of best wishes.
Love,
Mrs. Childs

Pretty neat, huh?

P.S. Today, in trivia you didn't ask for but are getting anyway: a very important character in The Mapmaker and the Ghost is named in honor of my elementary school.

Birthday Bash #28: The Beatles

Originally, the theme for my 28th birthday party was supposed to be something entirely different (don't worry; it was recycled for a later date). But then, Harmonix announced that it would be releasing Beatles Rock Band a couple of weeks before my birthday and that all changed.

You see, I love Rock Band. And I L.O.V.E. The Beatles. They were almost exclusively all I listened to while growing up. Except for some Michael Jackson and that one Goo Goo Dolls album that you probably owned too, admit it.

Anyway, the Beatles Rock Band concept was simple: come dressed as your favorite Beatle or Beatles song character.

And...photo montage!

I love that they are in black and white. Genius!

They brought their own crosswalk. Naturally.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer (self-constructed and the winner of the costume contest) and some Sgt. Peppers.

Perhaps you can guess who I'm supposed to be?

Top on the list if things I would never have guessed planning this party is that three separate people would show up in mustard costumes. (That's two Mean Mr. Mustards and one very creative Yellow Submarine.) I loved it! It was especially great when I got all three of them to harmonize on Twist & Shout.

A little bit of the Rock Band part of the Beatles Rock Band party.

My friend Bryan made this cake FROM SCRATCH. It tasted as awesome as it looked.

A splendid time was guaranteed for all! Well, I had an amazing time, anyway.

For those of you not present for the bash...what would you have dressed up as?!

Hurricane First Draft

I think all writers have a favorite part of writing and all have a least favorite part.

My favorite part is revising. I like stepping back and being able to look at the big picture, find the threads that I didn't even know were there, fit in new puzzle pieces and slide some old pieces around to make a richer, fuller, more satisfying story.

Which stands to reason that I hate first drafts. With a passion. More specifically, I hate outlining first drafts. Because my least favorite part of writing (but the part that I feel like is the skeletal structure of any good story, especially for children) is plot.

Now, I actually am an outliner and not a "pantser" (someone who writes by the seat of their pants). I find I need to spend time just focusing on plot points, what happens where and my story arc. It's the only way I know of to finish the dreaded first draft. But it's like pulling teeth.

Speaking of pulling teeth, cliched metaphors are often innocent bystanders to the disasters that are my first drafts. So are wordy sentences. And the word "really." This is where I have to stop and give thanks to my beta readers, the EMTs to my catastrophes, the ones who can seem to find the solid, sometimes breathing bodies underneath the mess. Also, the ones who love me anyway even after I make them read that drivel.

Writers out there, are there some usual suspects you always find sneaking around your first drafts, begging to be sniffed out and carted away? And what are your favorite and least favorite parts of writing?