Trend Tuesday: Contest Winners!

These seven picks are just half of the top-rated entries judged by voice. We looked for thoughtful word choice, appropriate rhythm, and evocative imagery. Don't forget to see the other top 7 entries, featured on host Lara's blog! We had more than 7 perfect scores for YA, so you definitely don't want to miss the ones over there.

Code name: I'm Friends with the Monster

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

My plans were shattered now. I hadn’t figured they would abandon the hunt to hunt me instead. If I returned to the village, I would pay for Okomi’s life with my own or with banishment from the tribe.

“Talla, what happened?”

“I . . .” I stammered, unsure how to explain it. To anyone, much less him.

I laughed. A full-belly, grabbing-my-stomach laugh. I was standing on a roof, watching my mother and sister leave to hunt me down like an animal, while I hid in a town that wasn’t mine, looking for the man who had carried me to the woods and abandoned me. And now I was talking to the boy who knocked me out and left me like garbage.

I laughed even harder.

“Talla.” His voice was deep and steady. He held my arm now, and his thumb rubbed against the claw marks on my forearm.

I stopped laughing and took a deep breath. “I can’t go back.”

The truth hit me with full force like a punch in the gut. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go home. Not in a few days. Not ever. I’d spent so much of my life questioning how I fit in there, but it was the only home I ever knew. And now returning meant exile. Death. Or worse.

“Why not? What happened?”

“I happened.” In my mind, I saw Okomi and the monster. I saw my mother and my sister and Heart Father. Then, I saw blood. “I’m a monster.”

Word Count: 79k

Genre: Fantasy

7-word description for your MC: curious, compassionate, cunning; deadly aim and magic

Code Name: Cool blue reason empties on the page

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

I’m trapped on the inside, with all the crazy people, where my parents signed that I belong.

####

When we all arrive home Mom shoos us inside and locks the doors. She also turns the deadlock, which she doesn’t even do at night.

I watch her force the stubborn switch into place with a rattle, twist, and final click. I can feel the walls closing in on me. 

Does everyone feel this way? Imprisoned and unwanted?

“No one. No. One. Goes outside without an adult,” Mom says again with warning in her voice. Something more hides in her words—fear. I rarely see Mom afraid. Tired, sure—all the time, but scared? It makes me nervous.

Celeste stomps to her room. I follow behind her because I don’t know what else to do. Slam. Her door almost crushes my face.

Jude walks past me to his room, which is on the main floor with Celeste’s room and my parents. He looks at me and shrugs before closing his door too. All that’s left to me is my own room—downstairs with the imposters.

“Your mom knows,” Gail says when I walk past the door to the room she shares with Lynn.

Do I have to pretend they matter by responding?

“Knows what?” I ask.

“She knows more than she’s telling, just like the note. She didn’t tell me about the note, but she knew.”

Word Count: 76K

Genre: psychological thriller

7-word description for your MC: Vengeance is best served crazy and doped

Code Name: Love is a Battlefield

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

“And these?" Zinnia’s thumb brushed one of the wooden beads swinging in his dreadlocked hair.

"Not everyone wears them," Leo said.

A tingle of warning crept up her neck. Zinnia brushed it away like a worrisome fly.

“Why do you?”

He arched one eyebrow.

"I…shouldn’t answer that." He stood, moving away.

The dark forest was quiet. The monsters were either asleep or silently stalking their prey. A branch cracked in the fire, startling Zinnia.

"What do they mean?" She insisted, knowing she provoked him.

Leo turned sharply, meeting her gaze.

"I wear one bead for every death I've caused. It’s a warrior’s duty to know his crimes."

Zinnia looked away, grateful for the distance between them. Grateful, as well, for the reassuring weight of the dagger at her side. Then it dawned on her. He had finally let slip a clue about himself. She fixated on that, pushing aside thoughts of the murders he’d just confessed to.

"Is that what you are? A warrior?"

********

Leo stopped pacing and studied the girl across from him. If he wasn’t mistaken—and Leo rarely made mistakes when it came to the true nature of a person—Zinnia Delacroix was not only astute, but defiant. He had seen it even at their first encounter. With the Ambassador’s blade pressed to the soft skin of her neck, she had been ruled not by fear, but calculation. She was looking for a way out.

The Council was expecting someone malleable. Someone they could bend to their will.

The Council was going to be disappointed.

Word Count: 108K

Genre: Dark Fantasy / Romantic Fantasy

7-word description for your MC: Neither pawn nor player. She's queen bee.

Code Name: Like Real People Do

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

*This excerpt is in the POV of my Main Character's friend and guardian, Ari.*

It was devastatingly quiet the way the monster in my yard slowly killed itself. Someone should mourn it, but the Singers were too busy securing the compound and saving what lives they could.

I was the only one who could stand vigil, but I shouldn’t care about that monster plant enough to give it another second of my attention. I shouldn’t grieve the thing I had feared, but I couldn’t lose the sound of the song I had heard, and the gentle way it had bowed to me.

The whole yard was still. Only the stars moved above me, a shimmering twist that I didn’t realize meant tears were in my eyes until they fell down my cheek.

Far to the distance, inside one of the wind-tossed trees, I saw a glint of light. I narrowed my eyes and after a moment the light flashed again, in the distinct shape of two round circles. Binoculars. Binoculars trained right on my window.

We were being watched.

I slammed the curtains shut.

The Waxling perched on the foot of my bed, her face frozen in a friendly smile directed toward my mirror. She sat so still, she seemed like the waxworks she should have been.

And then she moved her head.

Henry ripped a bandage with his teeth as he sat on the ground next to the door. I crossed to him, my eyes on the Waxling as I helped him cover his wound with another bandage.

Word Count: 74K

Genre: YA Contemporary Fantasy

7-word description for your MC: Fragile, fierce, and funny. Confused. Statuesque. Biodegradable.

Code Name: I know a cat named Easter

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

Jack lights a paraffin lamp before he leaves, and the yellow light illuminates the bloodstains on my uniform. I try not to look at them as I undress.

The water is still steaming when I climb into the tin bath, but it cools quickly, and I don’t want to sit soaking in someone else’s blood. I look around for a towel.

Jack.

I wrap myself up and climb onto his cot, trying to stop my shivering. He won’t mind having me naked in his bed, a thought that makes me smile deliriously.

All I can see is headless bodies, so I think about Jack instead. His face before my closed eyes, as clear as day. The way he looks at me.

Jack is good, for certain. Too good, too wholesome for me. But—

If he wants me…

Why shouldn’t I have him?

Jack deserves someone better. But he wants me.

The door cracks open. “Rebecca?” A whisper. “Are you… Can I—?”

“I’m decent.” It’s a lie. I tuck the scratchy wool blanket underneath my arms and stretch the muscles around my face into a smile.

Jack comes in, stops when he sees me, and then he slowly closes the door.

He’s holding a stack of clean clothes. My spare uniform. “Tilly gave me these. I’ll take your uniform to the laundry.”

Everything comes rushing back. The explosion. The blood. I claw at the blanket, which falls an inch. Jack looks away, blushing.

I need something else. I need—

“Jack. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

Word Count: 67k

Genre:Historical Romance

7-word description for your MC: Sisters separated by war, reunited by love

Code Name: A Cavalcade of Anger and Fear

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

Vulnerable and sprawled out on the bathroom floor with blood still trickling from my temple, there was no way I’d launch into my crazy bird market story. Not then.

Maybe not ever.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave my hair down. No one will even notice the cut,” I said.

A faint look spread across Nick’s face as he rounded the corner to the toilet, which sat in its own tiny enclosure next to the linen closet. Loud retching and a subsequent splash of vomit echoed through the bathroom. Those unsavory sounds, coupled with the even more disgusting sight of towels soaked in my own blood, made my stomach churn. Woozy and barely finding the strength to move, I rose up on all fours and crawled next to my brother, nudging him to scoot over before making a matching deposit into the toilet bowl. The stench from our puke, mingled with bleach fumes from Nick’s constant scrubbing, coaxed every last bit of dinner from my stomach.

“Why don’t you go to your own bathr-” Nick gagged again. “I don’t want to throw up on you.”

I pulled myself up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I actually think I’m done. Thank God.”

“This has to be the worst sibling bonding experience ever.” My brother gave a weak smile. Then he heaved again.

“The worst,” I agreed.

Little did I know that puking in the toilet with Nick was far from the worst brother-sister bonding experience we’d ever have.

Not even close.

Word Count: 68K

Genre: Thriller

7-word description for your MC: Doubts her sanity, but never her loyalty

Code Name: Little supernovas in my head

Your 70th Page (up to 259 words):

*The two MCs here alternate POV chapters*

“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ is confusing you?” His voice remained low, but it held an edge of “don’t push me further.”

When I spoke, my voice was barely above a whisper. “You should tell someone what he does.”

Silence.

“My parents could help. It’s not right what he does to you.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve got one more year. Then I’m out. Whether I go to college or not, I’m not staying in that house after graduation. Depending on everything, I might get out as soon as I turn eighteen, but I’ve gotta put up with it until then.”

“A year is a long time.” He knew that better than anyone.

“Most of the time he’s not even there. I come and go as I please. I can deal.”

“Where would you go if you moved out?”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You’ll finish school, won’t you?” Fear of him dropping out ran through me like ice.

“Yeah, especially if I’m playing football. I’m not going to screw that up. Like I said, I probably won’t go anywhere until after graduation. When Robert isn’t around, I’ve got it made.” He touched the bruise carefully and shook his head. “How’s your salad.”

I stared at my plate. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I’ll help any way I can.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. If he needed a place to go, we had a guest room.

Word Count: 89,000

Genre: YA contemporary

7-word description for your MC: Searching for identity, stronger than she thinks

Are you an agent who would like to request more from these writers? Comment below with the code names, how many pages you'd like to see, and your contact information. Alternatively, you may email veritylanelaraATgmailDOTcom with your requests. Winning entrants, it's your responsibility to vet agents and see if they would be a good fit for you. Writers, go cheer each other on with the hashtag #pg70pit on Twitter!

Trend Tuesday: Taking My Cues from You

For my first Trend Tuesday, I'm doing what any sensible person looking to get the pulse of a profession does: I'm handing it over the professionals! (Nudge, nudge--this means you guys.)

The great people over at MS Editing are hosting their #pg70pit contest, in which authors submit the 70th page of their manuscript into different genre categories and judges select winners for assorted literary goodies. It just so happens that I am one of these judges, so don't make me look bad--head on over there! The winners will be featured, here and on other judges' sites, to much fanfare and riotous drinking. See you later this week for Feature Friday!

It's Time for Some Changes Around Here: The New Format and My Summer Reading List

There are many literary matters to discuss today, all of which you will no doubt find illuminating, but I'd like to open with a reflection on my last post. Remember that little caveat I put at the end? Telling you I'd be available for editing on June 11? As the teens in all their infinite wisdom say, "JK, LOL." I can remember thinking to myself, "I'll take it slow. It's only the first week of June. I'm going to just relax a little."

So cute I thought that was going to be a thing.

So, just to provide a little update, my editing availability now begins July 30. As always, you can contact me at evaughanmail@gmail.com if you're interested in any of the services I provide.

Now, on to the good stuff.

My blogging has been, as you'll recall, somewhat less than regular in the past. Graduate school and near-death experiences (good times) did have something to do with that, but I've decided that in light of my relatively light schedule this summer, I'm going to impose some order on this blog of mine. And so now, without further ado, is the GRAND AND ALL-ENCOMPASSING REORGANIZATION (as indicated by the preceding text, this is super important and you should pay attention).

Here are the features I'll be rolling out, starting next week:

Trend Tuesdays:

I really enjoy discussing writing tactics with you guys and providing different tools, but knowing how to write without knowing what's popular in the industry is kind of like going for a hike with one shoe. You need both boots to make the hike a success. Otherwise you're going to get one hell of an infection and/or write a story about an 11-year-old boy wizard named Gary Topper who's just received a letter via raven to attend Frogforks, a school for witchcraft and wizardly located in scenic Scranton, Pennsylvania. You don't want to be behind the curve.

And that's where I come in!

I'm going to, at least for the time being, resume my ninja-like agent's watchfulness of the industry, and report my findings to you every Tuesday. Expect some mind-altering wisdom.

Feature Fridays:

This will be a little more variable. I could feature an author I've worked with, open a contest, offer general writing advice, report on an event, or print an interview. The possibilities are pretty wide. Often, however, I imagine I'll draw from my...

Summer reading list!

I am so excited to finally be doing this. One of my great mantras for improving writing is to always be reading, and it's a rule I adhere to myself. Beyond that, I'm often asked what kind of editing projects I take on and am always forced to answer that my tastes run across the board. But now you can actually get an idea of what's fresh in my head. So what's on the schedule during these hot, lazy months?

1. Viper Wine, Hermione Eyre (Hogarth, 2015--Historical fiction/fantasy)

Venetia Stanley is a great beauty whose charm is legendary among the aristocracy of mid-17th-century England. As her looks begin to fade, however, she enlists the help of a dangerous concoction--viper wine--whose miraculous rejuvenating power comes at a dark price. 

Saw this and knew I had to have it! History and fantasy are probably my two favorite things (besides spaghetti), and so a book that combines both is a high priority for me.

2. The Creeper, Tania Carver (Pegasus, 2014--Horror/mystery)

Suzanne Perry thinks the man standing over her when she sleeps is a nightmare--that is, until she finds the Polaroid. A snapshot of her in bed captioned with the words "I'm watching you." Perry and Detective Phil Brennan believe the intruder is a serial killer who's murdered other young women in the city, but what they uncover as they investigate is far more terrifying. 

I've always been that person who can't sit through a horror movie, but I still like to scare the crap out of myself, and the good thing about doing that in book form is that I can just fold the page if things get too intense. This'll be a midnight-and-flashlight type of read.

3. Kindred, Octavia Butler (Beacon Press, 2003--Historical fiction/fantasy/African-American fiction)

A 26-year-old black woman from California is transported back through time to 
a plantation in the antebellum South and must figure out why she's been taken there and whether she can ever resume her normal life. 

This is another example of several amazing things colliding. Historical fiction? Check. Time-traveling fantasy? Check. Social equality issues whose implications are still relevant today (and are maybe even more relevant than when the book was written a decade ago)? Check. Very excited to start this.

4. In the Woods, Tana French (Penguin Books, 2008--Thriller/horror/mystery)

Four boys went into the woods that day in 1984, but only one came out--drenched in blood, sobbing in terror, and with no memory of what happened. Twenty years later, the boy has moved on from his traumatic past and established a stable career as a homicide detective...just as another child goes missing in the forest.

What can I say? The idea of something dark lurking just behind the treeline touches on a primeval chord in us. I'm hoping this won't keep me up at night.

5. Lady of the Eternal City, Kate Quinn (Berkley, 2015--Historical fiction/romance)

Life in the politically poisonous atmosphere of Hadrian's Rome was already difficult for Sabina, and that was before her husband the emperor fell in love with Antinous, the beautiful teenage son of her former lover Vix. Hadrian's passion for the boy pushes Sabina out and invites chaos in. Now her marriage, Vix's career, their very lives, and even the future of the Roman Empire are at stake.

Another historical fiction, this one loaded with the grandeur of Roman power and the taboo of ancient pederasty. I do, for the record, enjoy the occasional romance, and this book is probably the most different from any other on my summer list.

6. Eternity Road, Jack McDevitt (Harper Voyager, 1998--Science fiction/fantasy)

More than 1,000 years after the United States was wiped out by a mysterious plague, what's left of society has devolved into small pockets of early-modern-level settlement separated by vast tracts of wilderness and peppered with ruins from the ancient culture known only as "the Roadmakers." No one can remember anything about the country that build the massive, crumbling highways, but an elderly academic and an impetuous explorer are determined to find out.

All of these books will, I'm sure, be a blast to read, but this one is really just for fun. It's a bit older than anything else on the list, but with its surreal and dystopian elements it was something I couldn't resist. I've already started this one.

So that's the list. Tell me: what are you reading this summer?

An Overdue Update on the Rogue Agent and New Editing Availability

It's been a long, long time since June 26, 2014. To be fair, things were happening. Books. Conferences. Life-altering career shifts. That whole chestnut.  As many of you may have heard, I capped off a rewarding three years at Kimberley Cameron & Associates in January 2015. I was an intern for one of those years and a literary agent for two, and I learned more in that time from KCA's fantastic team than I would have imagined possible. Eventually, however, the itch to pursue a years-long dream of studying history got me and--because the glamour of APA citation format and occasionally falling asleep while standing up was too seductive to resist--I wound down my agenting commitments last fall. My time as an agent gave me some wonderful friends and a title from Gerald Dodge that I am amazingly proud of. It also gave me the wherewithal to do a lot of editing. Like, so much editing. I'm probably handling about the same volume of reading and revisions I did as an agent, except now the material is less likely to be about a fantasy hero and more likely to be about, say, how Russian administrative practices changed during the course of the early 18th century. Yeah.

Because I still need some fun in my life, and because I feared the industry would collapse without the guiding light this blog provides, I am still taking on editing clients in those months of the year when I'm granted a respite from the soul-crushing workload of bleary academic texts that is standard for anyone pursuing a master's degree. Which I'm so glad I'm doing. Of course.

Generally speaking my window for editing extends from late May to late August, though as of now I am booked through June 11. I will post regular updates as this schedule changes. Anyone interested in editing work (the general rates for which you can find here) should contact me at evaughanmail@gmail.com.

I hope you've all been very active in the time that I've been diving into Russian history books (and grammar; if you thought I pointed out things you hadn't noticed before, wait until you start getting reader's reports in Cyrillic). I'll look forward to seeing your work, and reading about your progress through your blogs, in the months ahead. To be honest, anything you send me under 200,000 words and not involving the finer points of how arctic deserts and arid cold lands differ from one another would be a vast improvement on what I've been reading. Not that, you know, I regret the decisions I've made.

Not at all.

Beyond Creativity: The Importance of Research

Good day, bloggers! Shocked to see me? Believe me, you're not the only one who's surprised; I fully intended on leaving you in agonized suspense for another half-year or so, but seeing as I'm here for the second time in one month I thought I'd talk about a topic that is often left out of the writing discussion: research.

This is not what most people want to think about when they ponder being an author. Everyone tends to focus on the romantic elements, the magical spark of imagination lighting up the page, but the research is important in making sure that spark can shine. In short, it behooves you to know what you're talking about. Unless you're someone like Madeleine L'Engle, whose written universe is pulled purely from your own head, your story will not exist in a vacuum. It's part of the world around it, and ensuring that that world is depicted accurately will lend your manuscript a layer of authenticity that makes everything else in it seem more believable.

Take me.

I am, as you know, a writer in my own right, and have recently embarked upon a project of my own after editing projects for so many others. I won't go into too much detail lest I indulge in shameless self-promotion, but suffice to say that this story involves an old mansion, a dwarf orgy, more slavery than I am comfortable with, and the great state of Pennsylvania.

(I know I joke quite a bit, but the above is all sadly very true.)

And I am researching all of those things. I will hopefully not be participating in all of them--the slave trade and the dwarf sexcapades in particular aren't my cup of tea--but I will read about them thoroughly. I will interview knowledgeable sources. Where applicable, I will visit historical sites. And the information therein accumulated will form the narrative backdrop of a book that, I can assure you, will be nothing short of brilliant. I've allowed JK the top spot for several years now out of courtesy, but I'm 26. It's my time to shine.

When your time to shine comes, do it right: if you're writing about a 32-year-old dental hygienist who finds Mr. Right, take the time to actually speak to a dental hygienist. Ask if you can shadow her at work. Maybe sign up for an OKCupid account so you can experience first hand the impotent frustration of online dating.

Historical novel? Head to Gettysburg, or London, or Normandy, or wherever it is the thing takes place. And if you absolutely can't, then speak to a curator, historian, or some other figure who can give you the facts and perspective you need.

Hell, last weekend I found myself swigging brandy while singing a song about drag-dressing gods to the tune of Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville," all in the name of literature. (This actually happened)

In the end, it's worth it, and your projects and mine will have the dimension they need. So tell me: what do you do for research? What goes in to making your novel great?

It Was Bound to Happen--How I Broke My Cardinal Rule

Good day, literati, and welcome to powerhouse literary agent Ethan Vaughan's bi-annual blog post. Please hold your applause.

(On a side note, isn't it just deliciously shameless how I pretend as if I actually maintain a blog?)

It's been a solid four months since I last posted anything at all, so it made sense that the first thing I'd do is fatally undermine my credibility to the few of you who might still be hanging on. What is it I've done? Involvement in a drug cartel? The advancement of a Ponzi scheme? Piracy off the Somalian coast?

Yes to all of those things, but that's not why I've suddenly lost all legitimacy. You see, in between running my drug-money-funded Ponzi operation from a ship in the Indian Ocean (see how I brought all that together?) I managed to do the one thing I promised you I would never do.

I mixed work and pleasure. Or rather, work and work. Pleasure and pleasure...? Look, I signed one of my editing clients to a contract for representation.

I know, I like, swore.

Remember what I said? There are agenting clients and there are editing client, and ne'er the two shall meet.

But then there was this one story that was super good and, like a hipster in a health foods store, I couldn't help myself. But there's an inherent conflict here: editing clients pay me money, yet agenting clients, by the rigorous ethical standards of our industry, cannot be charged money. How to bridge that gap?

You guessed it.

Long story short, this manuscript had better do well, because once it sells I am out the chunk of change that I'm refunding to the author so as to make our transaction squeaky clean. You read that right, I'm actually paying someone for the privilege of representing their manuscript. Oh, publishing.

But you guys, this book is awesome.

Remember how I went on and on about loving Percy Jackson so much? Well imagine Percy Jackson with a badass female lead, a whole lot of dark humor (the phrase "try not to dwell on it" crops up a lot), and, oh yeah, NORSE GODS. Such is the awesomeness that is Wish Maiden by Katy Kerrey, who will have a website up as soon as I lay myself prostrate at her feet and beg her to do it.

Check out the query below!

"When 17-year-old Rafe winds up on the wrong end of a pistol during a bank robbery, he’s convinced he’s a goner. That’s until she shows up; the mysterious, beautiful girl named Kara who saves his life and gets stuck in his head. There’s just one catch: that beautiful girl is no girl at all, but a 1,000-year-old Valkyrie, a powerful being from Norse mythology who does the bidding of the gods. Who, by the way, are all real. Who knew?

"Now Rafe and Kara are caught in a forbidden infatuation between mortal and immortal, not to mention a race against time as an unseen power tries to use their love to bring about Ragnarok—otherwise known as the Apocalypse. Puppy love has never been so dangerous.

"Wish Maiden is a 79,000-word YA fiction from Katy Kerrey, a technical writer who earned her undergraduate degree from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. She is represented by Ethan Vaughan of Kimberley Cameron & Associates."    

You're jealous of my job right now. That's okay; it's an amazing job. But Katy Kerrey pretty much made my life when she asked me to edit this book, and after I realized what a gem it was I just couldn't let it go. What's even better is that it's a part of a series that, I promise you, gets pretty damn heavy. Do you know what's supposed to happen during Ragnarok? A wolf eats the sun. And that's not even the worst of it, so our buddies Rafe and Kara had better come through in a big way. 

I suppose that's enough bragging for one night. Katy will have her site up soon, and when she does I will be sure to link you all to it. Until then, keep writing and watch out for the frost giants! 

Does Pain Make Your Writing Better? (Get Ready for the Emo Post)

When I was a teenager, I joined my local choir and discovered a talent for singing. My range was good, my tone passable, my pitch on point. The teacher suggested I audition for solo parts. The one criticism that she and others consistently raised, however, was that of feeling.

"You hit all the notes," someone once said to me. "But you don't understand the words. You need life to teach you what they mean."

At 15 I scoffed, but with time I came to see the truth in that observation. Living and, more to the point, losing, made me a better singer. I'm willing to wager the same thing holds true with writing.

I've written a lot here about literature, but very little about my pursuits or personal life--not because I feel it would be improper but because I have literally nothing, save perhaps affinity with the ukulele, to ham up. That's all that's stopped me: boringness. Well, that and the fact that I am allegedly here to impart words of publishing wisdom. But when my pursuits and personal life conspire so well to be instructive, why not exploit them?

In that vein, I'll tell you something you may not know about me: I, like many of you, am a writer. I won't bore you with the details of individual projects (though they are all, rest assured, superb, and have been withheld from public view only so as not to shame other authors), but they do exist and I pursue them for the same reasons you do--love of the craft, love of the characters, and a sense that I might be able to capture something of my own emotion and convey it in a way others can be affected by. Or something.

Something else you may not know about me: I had a near-death experience last year. Told you the Emo was coming.

I am not, by the way, referring to my flight home from PNWA with an entire troop of Boy Scouts fresh from a showerless nature retreat, though that in any event proved nearly as fatal.

No, what actually nearly killed me involved a shower stall, a persistent cough, sauteed vegetables, and, for some reason, Kelly Clarkson music. It was my own stupidity, really. I knew I was sick. I knew I was missing more and more work. I knew I was unaccountably weak. I knew I'd started to enjoy Doomsday Castle, which alone probably implied some level of impairment. And then one day, BAM.

The experience of waking from a coma in a hospital bed, of not knowing where I was or how I'd gotten there, is one I'll never forget. The experience of tripping absolute balls also stands out quite prominently. I don't know what they had me on, but it would have been so much fun if it wasn't being administered because I'd nearly been murdered by my own lungs.

But for real, guys, this was not good. My brother drove down from his home out of state. My mother cried. My father was so moved as to attempt a joke, which of course made a previously tolerable situation just unbearable. That being said, this turned out very well--and not just because I got to be high as a kite for several days without breaking any laws. For one thing, I made a full recovery. So yay. And for another, I noticed something when next I sat down at my keyboard to pen one of my own stories instead of editing someone else's: I had more to say.

Something about so nearly losing my life opened, at least initially, a great vent of fear and pain within me, and I found that the memory of that experience in turn yielded writing that was more poignant, more cognizant of mortality, better able to express loss and fear and pain.

Anyone in my generation who can claim not to have been affected by the Harry Potter franchise missed some crucial part of childhood. That story was a common thread in all our lives. And it, too, was enhanced by suffering. Its author, JK Rowling, lost her mother as she was composing the draft of the first novel, and she has stated on several occasions the death made Harry's own ache for his parents that much more palpable.

So what's my advice here?

Lose a parent!

Be chronically ill for nearly a year and then almost die!

No. But we've all experienced hardship of some kind. So I suppose what I'm trying to say, with difficulty because we've spent so much time here discussing the technical aspects of writing, is to dig deep and remember your most visceral pain--whatever it is--when writing. Not to the point that you're blubbering at the keyboard, but to the point that you can credibly relate pain--and credibly relate the relief that happiness always is. It's never just there. It's always liberation from something else.

So what do you think? Does pain make your writing better?