“ARGH!!!!” is right: Why Piracy Sucks

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If you like a musician or an author or any other artist, you should consider paying them for their work. If you can’t pay for their work, you should at least support them with your time.

Here’s how it works. These are not actual numbers, but you’ll get the point:

Authors and other artists like musicians earn a “royalty” every time one of their books/albums/songs/whatever gets sold. (There’s more to it than that, but I want to keep this simple.) Let’s say I, as the author, make a 10% royalty on any book sold by my publisher. Let’s say that book is $10 at your local bookstore. How much do I make?

$1.00.

(That doesn’t include 15% or so for my agent…so really it’s .85 cents. It also doesn’t count taxes…but anyway.)

So if I sell 100 books, I get $100. Not a lot, but there’s a lot you could buy with $100. Would you like $100 right now?

So if 100 people illegally download my book, I get . . . $0.00. Zero is less than 100, last time I checked.

Listen:

First, I understand that e-book pricing is odd and inconsistent, and I’m sorry about that, but it’s out of my hands. Second, if you think hardcovers are overpriced, I urge you to write a 50,000 word novel, revise it, proofread it, have it proofread again, and again, and just once more to make sure it is flawless, then build an eye-catching and appealing cover, then dump the whole thing into InDesign and try doing a layout yourself so that the words look appealing on the page….then total up all those hours and tell me how much you think they were worth. It’ll be a lot more than $17.99.

(Of which I would get $1.80, by the way. Again, not counting my agent or taxes or…)

Third: Your local library has a METRIC SHIT TON of material FOR FREE. And if they don’t have it, they can get it. E-books, audiobooks, magazines, newspapers, novels, nonfiction. Tons of it online, tons of it at the library, and if they don’t have it, they can get it 90% of the time FROM ANOTHER LIBRARY FOR FREE.

By the way? You already paid for it. Your tax dollars at work. Go use some of that stuff. A lot of it, like on Freegal, you can download and keep forever. Did I mention that it was free?

As someone else pointed out, if you’re paying $5.20 for a cup of coffee but won’t pay .99 for an e-book? Dude. C’mon. 

Anyway. If you’re gonna steal our shit, then at least, for the love of God, leave a review on Amazon.  Not Goodreads. Amazon.com. I mean, Jesus, if you are reading/listening/in any way consuming an artist’s work, then you must like that artist, right? Don’t you want to support them, even if you won’t do it financially? Then leave goddamn review. It’s three minutes of your time. Small price to pay for a free song you’ll listen to for the next forty years or a novel you can re-read over and over.

And I mean, my God! You can get used hardcovers at Amazon for a penny! Would I rather you buy a shiny new hardcover at my book launch on August 18? Yes. But the next best thing is to just get the cheapest copy you can and then (wait for it)….leave a review.

And finally:

We love you.

You get that, right? Artists love people, otherwise we’d be A) stupid, and B) working in a vacuum.

Nothing delights us more than creating shit for you to enjoy.

It’s why we get up in the morning. I am not kidding about this. Ask around.

I don’t have a problem giving you stuff for free. If you’re that hard up, by all means, send me a message and I will do my level best to get a copy of my book out to you, because, see above. I love you, and I love doing this for you. More than once I have spent my own, unreimbursed money to send a hardcover out to someone because that’s the kind of person I am. I want you to have this book. I want you to love it. Or not! But I want you to have it.

Just don’t steal it. Please. I’m begging you. We have got to move away from this Everything Is Free Online culture. I have to buy groceries to feed my toddler, you know? That’s not free. You wouldn’t want the work you do at your company to go unrewarded. You work hard. I work hard. The dozen or so people it takes to get a book to market work hard.

Don’t steal. Please.

And leave reviews on Amazon. No joke. Please do it.

…Rant off.

And for those many, many, many of you to whom this does not apply, thank you. On behalf of authors and other artists everywhere, thank you. We cherish you so very, very much.

 

 

 

How To Write Awesome Dialogue!

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dialogue front cover

Available now from Amazon on Kindle or paperback!

You’ve taken (or wanted to take) Tom’s energetic, unforgettable class on dialogue; now for the first time, here’s one place where all the collected advice, tips, and tricks is found! Bringing 22 years of experience as an actor and director in live theatre to the table, How To Write Awesome Dialogue! walks you through plot, conflict, and character notes to give you a firm foundation upon which to build better and best dialogue for your fiction or scripts. Don’t miss it!

Violent Ends

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violentends

Coming September 1, 2015. Pre-order on Amazon now!

In a one-of-a-kind collaboration, seventeen of the most recognizable YA writers — including Tom Leveen, Shaun David Hutchinson, Neal and Brendan Shusterman, and Beth Revis — come together to share the viewpoints of a group of students affected by a school shooting.

It took only twenty-two minutes for Kirby Matheson to exit his car, march onto the school grounds, enter the gymnasium, and open fire, killing six and injuring five others. But this isn’t a story about the shooting itself. This isn’t about recounting that one unforgettable day.

This is about Kirby and how one boy—who had friends, enjoyed reading, playing saxophone in the band, and had never been in trouble before—became a monster capable of entering his school with a loaded gun and firing on his classmates.

Each chapter is told from a different victim’s viewpoint, giving insight into who Kirby was and who he’d become. Some are sweet, some are dark; some are seemingly unrelated, about fights or first kisses or late-night parties. This is a book of perspectives—with one character and one event drawing them all together—from the minds of some of YA’s most recognizable names.

 

 

Z Resurrected

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11304536_710698029057817_1650159678_nZ Resurrected is a unique anthology featuring characters from previously published zombie novels, including Sick.

Trapped for hours away from Brian, Kenzie, and the rest of her friends, Laura Fitzgerald struggles to control her panic while still evading – or defeating – the monstrous infected students outside. But her lone ally in this fight for her life doesn’t have much time left…

Coming in October 2015!

 

 

Tuesday, November 12
Phoenix Metro High School
Phoenix, Arizona
5:04 p.m.

Um—

My name is Laura Fitzgerald, I’m seventeen . . . and I really, really want to be eighteen someday.

I don’t know what’s going on, exactly. It feels like the world is ending out there. I’m scared, and there’s no one else in here but me. This is Cody’s phone, not mine. I guess you know that. Whoever you are. Whoever finds this, I mean.

If Cody’s mom or dad hears this, I’m sorry about Cody, I did everything I could. I swear.

God . . .

I don’t know . . . I don’t know how long I can stay in here. I don’t have any food or water. But they’re still out there, I can hear them. Sometimes I hear someone scream out there.

Um . . .

Honestly? I’m kind of surprised I can even talk right now, usually I’d be curled up in a little ball somewhere. That’s what I really want to do. But I can’t. They’ll get me if I do.

Oh, God. God.

No. Okay. Stop. Breathe. I can do this. I can do it.

Uh—

I just, I thought I should explain everything, because maybe it will help? I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone will ever find this . . . but, um . . .

Okay.

This is what happened.

Then I’ll BE unhappy! – Heroes, TV, and Ron Perlman

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(c) 1989-ish, one of my best friends drew this for me; it’s his rendering of my player-character, Felix, an alien martial artist with cat-like powers. Because, cool!

(This is her world. A world apart from mine.)

So there was this show in the late eighties that in retrospect was kind of doofy, but perhaps only by today’s cynical standards: Beauty and the Beast, starring Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman. I’ll admit it—I loved the show. I thought Perlman’s performances as Vincent were amazing. Vincent was everything I was, wasn’t, and wanted to be.

Was, because I felt like an outsider and a monster, too.
Wasn’t, because he was strong and fearless and could kick some ass when some ass needed kicking.
Wanted to be, because he also had an amazing voice, presence, and loved fully and passionately.

These were all part of my early-teen psyche. In the very first episode, when Vincent’s adoptive father declares, in reference to Hamilton’s Katherine character, “She can only bring you unhappiness,” Vincent snarls back, “Then I’ll be unhappy!”

Lo, how oft I quoted those lines to myself whilst pining away for she who I could never obtain! No kidding, I actually have this line quoted in one of my old journals. One of the reviews of MANICPIXIEDREAMGIRL references my protagonist, Tyler, as “trying hard to break his own heart.” It’s my favorite review line ever, because it is true in the novel and it was true for me in high school, and Vincent—half lion, half man; half human, half monster—encapsulated my crazy emotions in those years. So much so, in fact, that when I had the chance to jump into a tabletop role-playing game with some friends, I based my character off Vincent. I went on to play that character for about 20 years. In so doing, playing with some very gifted storytellers and actors, my writing skills quietly got better and better in the background. (I later wrote a descriptive essay about that character and was accused of plagiarism because my writing “far exceeded the abilities of a comp 101 student.” True quote! Uh…my bad?)

(From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart with her beauty, her warmth, and her courage.)

So when I finally, after some 25 years, got to meet Ron Perlman in person at Phoenix ComiCon 2015, I just hoped I wouldn’t start bawling when I got to his table. (I didn’t.) Getting to shake his hand and explain that his storytelling, his character work in the show, inspired me in my own writing and that now I had books published by the likes of Random House, Abrams, and Simon & Schuster…it was just one of those I’m-meeting-my-rock-star! moments.

I gave the guy who played Vincent one of my novels. This is full-circle on a level that’s hard to explain.

He won’t read the thing; none of the people I’ve given my books to do, will, or have, I don’t reckon; and that’s okay, that’s not why I give them. I give them because it’s important to me to tell them how much their work mattered in my life. It’s important to me to show some tangible proof of my gratitude.

Because those stories do matter.

A lot of people don’t get all worked up over meeting celebrities, and I think that’s great. Some of us get riled up about celebrities not because they are special or powerful or whatever. They’re people. They go to work. Their work might seem glamorous, but I know just enough about the biz to know it’s anything but that a lot of the time (four hours in a make-up chair? Glamorous!). But still we get shook up when we meet them because they were the visible part of telling a story that perhaps said things we couldn’t.

“I am a monster, and I can never have what I really want because of it.” This was Vincent’s fate, and he knew it, and he let it get the better of him, and that is what I needed to see every week when I was 14. I don’t want to feel better, I want to feel whatever it is I am feeling right now, to the absolute fullest. Why do I write YA? Because so much of it, the real “it,” is exactly like that, and it’s a heady, breathtaking place to live for a little while.

In hindsight, Vincent and Katherine’s love affair, such as it was, wasn’t terribly mature. It couldn’t be, because good TV isn’t generally made about healthy relationships; conflict by necessity must be at a story’s core. I wouldn’t trade my awesome marriage for Vincent’s super strength and enhanced senses or his poetic pining; no thanks! But then I’m not 14 anymore, either. At 14? Oh hell yeah, that’s exactly what I needed to hear and see—that this monster knew what I was going through. So when I get a chance to meet the man who made that character come alive? A character who so deeply impacted my life and, in a roundabout way, my career?

Yeah. I’ll get a little choked up, all right? I can own that.

(I knew then as I know now that she would change my life forever.)

“It’s a TV show, dammit! It’s just a TV show!” barked William Shatner in a classic SNL skit. He’s right of course. It’s just a TV show.

But TV shows, movies, novels, poems, plays, songs…these things reveal to us and for us many things we can’t often express, even to ourselves. So I have no problem with anyone getting excited over meeting a person whose work has impacted them. Standing in line at Con this May, watching the thrilled, happy faces of fans after having met one of their favorite actors (or authors, or artists)…it’s a good thing. A very good thing, for everyone involved. Whether that person is an actor, athlete, musician, director, writer, artist, chef—whoever—it’s a noble thing they do, and I think a noble thing for us to say thank you. If what they did or do keeps us going one more day, then gratitude is the only reasonable reaction.

The Day Amber Benson & The Dread Pirate Roberts Saved My Life

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Could I just have one good f*cking day?!?! Answer: "As you wish."

Could I just have one good f*cking day?!?! Answer: “As you wish.”

Phoenix ComiCon 2015 begins in about 48 hours. I’m looking forward to it in a very special way this year because this time last year . . . I wasn’t.

2014 recap: Got to meet some great authors; met about a hundred up-and-coming writers, for whom I wish the best of luck and joy in their writing; met Cary Elwes who was preternaturally kind and wonderful; then was utterly charmed and stunned by author and actor Amber Benson for not only not roundhouse kicking my face when I jumped in front of her and asked her to come to my last panel of the day…but that she showed up and absolutely made my weekend. Her arriving at my class really took my breath away. You know what it’s like when you meet your Rock Star – whether he or she is an artist, actor, writer, poet, musician, or Fortune 500 CEO? Whoever your Rock Star is, you know that feeling? Yeah. It was like that.

And I wasn’t going to go. I came *that* close to skipping the whole thing.

No one knows, until just now, that that was my plan. Not my wife, not my ComiCon friends, not the Con organizers who are as dear to me as any family. No one. I didn’t announce it. I just quietly debated the merits of even bothering to show up. Because for all the awesome that is Phoenix ComiCon, sadness and self-loathing are . . . well, if we’re gonna be geeky, let’s just say the Dark Side is “Quicker. More seductive.” 

The reason I debated those merits is, I’ll never be good enough. I never have been, never will be, let’s end the entire charade.

You ever felt that way?

Let me make one thing clear, here: I am 100% aware of the sheer volume of blessings I have. No question. We can start with my wife and son and work our way along. I know them all. I do actually “count my blessings.” Frequently. Toby and Joy take up Spot #1. I have published novels that are on bookstore shelves; we’ll call that #3, because my friends take up Spot #2.

But still I wonder. Still I fear. Still I think it’s all a trick. 

Let’s put it this way: If anyone ever said to Toby the things I say into the mirror — and that’s not always metaphorical, by the way — I’d be Cobra-Kai-sweepin’-the-leg all over that person’s face. No one talks to my wife or my kid like that. No one.

I, on the other hand, am totally allowed to say those things to me. Some are things people have said and just stayed in there for, oh, thirty years. Some are brand-new that I came up with myself. And being a writer, trust me, some of them are pretty heinous. (My wife and my doctor get all upset with me when they hear the sorts of things I say to myself. Geez, calm down, right? I mean, they’re just words! . . . Right?)

So that’s just the tip of what was happening right before Con 2014. It’s the tip of what happens a lot in this office where I work. 

Thing is . . . I look back at last year’s Con and think of all the total coolness I would have missed out on if I’d given up. The wonderful people I wouldn’t have met.

No matter how much easier it is to give in, I can’t let it happen. You can’t let it happen. There is just too much cool shit we could miss out on if we let our Dark Sides get the better of us.

So this time last year, I could barely pick myself up off the floor. But I did. I got up, and goddammit, I went to Phoenix ComiCon to be with my tribe. And what do you know — heroes showed up, and reminded me by their smiles and their handshakes and their hugs that this place is worth sticking around for. Even when it sucks.

Artists you admire come watch your dialogue class, or dread pirates show great kindness. These things can change the entire course of a day, week, or longer. Much longer, sometimes. Like, the entire year between Cons, for example.

So thank you, Amber, and Cary, and Faith, and Brandy, and my exquisite and unrelentingly faithful bride. Thank you to every person who’s ever said a kind word about me or my work. Thank you. It matters. I hope I return the favor somehow.

I hope to see you at Phoenix ComiCon 2015. I’m really looking forward to it, no kidding. And if you or someone you know has been or is in one of those awful places I described, hang in there. Heroes abound. Keep your eyes open. We can do this.

We can. We have to. Because I don’t want any of us to miss Phoenix ComiCon 2016.

So say we all.

What Metallica Teaches Me

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Turn the page.

Turn the page.

So I’m watching this James Hetfield video, him at Guitar Center jamming a bit and talking about his early career with Metallica. About half way through, he starts playing this riff, and I think, “Could I ever learn to play that? I’ve got a Fender Strat electric and a Gibson Epiphone acoustic electric, surely I could learn to play that.”

Yes. I could. Gimme a year and practice every day, I could learn to play that riff.

But it would never be natural. It would never be second nature.

So here’s the hard truth: Writing fiction is pretty much the same way.

BUT.

It all depends on what you want out of it and what you expect out of it.

Jame Hetfield apparently worked at “a sticker factory.” Which somehow fits, I don’t know why. He might’ve ended up staying there, maybe becoming a sticker factory manager someday. (After all, someone has to be the sticker factory manager. There ought to be pride in that. There ought to be pride in every job, but our nation currently doesn’t really support that – but I digress.) Maybe old James would’ve quit and gone on to study music in college, and become a professor someplace. But he didn’t. He went on to become Metallica. Meh tal ih KAH!

But he’d still be playing guitar. I’d bet anything on it.

James Hetfield plays guitar because James Hetfield can’t not play guitar.

I write novels because I can’t not write novels.

What is it you cannot not do? That’s the thing you should be doing. You might still have to work at the sticker factory or become a professor to fund whatever it is. (I know this because it’s what I’m in the process of doing – preparing to get paid for something other than writing novels. I probably won’t work at the sticker factory, though.)

There is a world of difference – and generally, years of difference – between “I wanna be a rock star” and doing the work it takes to get there. As in music, are there flashes of wild success in fiction? Yes. Whether these authors are “good” or not is a matter of opinion, of course, just as tastes vary wildly with music preferences. But both musicians and novelists, like any artists, can also hit a nerve in a community at a right place and time.

Most of them, however, work their butts off to get there. And then double the effort once they’ve “arrived.” That’s the secret. That’s the trick. There isn’t another.

The reality is, I may never be a New York Times bestseller. Not for lack of trying or hoping. I may never keynote at ALA, again not for lack of trying or hoping.

But I keep thinking about these musicians I know, who make crap money gigging around the world, country, or neighborhood, and can’t imagine doing anything else. They cobble together a living, maybe with some teaching on the side or as a studio back-up. They’re doing what they want to do.

There is a price for that lifestyle, of course. Only you can determine if that price is worth paying. (If you can marry rich, go for it.) (Mostly kidding, folks.*) There’s health insurance and car insurance and retirement to think about (if you have a car). Rent or mortgage. Hey, ever pay for pre-school? That’ll shock ya. Oh, and food and clothing.

Among other things.

So what are you willing to give up to do that thing you can’t not do? What path can you forge to do that thing for a little or a lot of money?

Hope is not a business plan. Luck is not the foundation of a life-long career.

Figure out what you want, then make a plan to go get it. Take yourself out for a nice long chat sometime and really ponder this thing you want to do. If you can see yourself doing anything else, you should probably go do that thing instead.

But if THIS thing—whatever it is, be it music, writing, poetry, cooking, gardening, becoming a SEAL, whatever—if this thing you cannot breathe without . . . then figure out how you’re gonna get there.

Because you can.

That’s all. Love ya.

~ Tom

 

*Oft told story: Joy and I were at a dinner with friends of her family. Someone asked us what we wanted to do as careers. We both answered truthfully. The guy laughed and said, “An artist and a social worker. You’re gonna be rolling in cash, huh?” 

Well…maybe someday. But no, prolly not. 🙂

We’re All The Backpacker

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Me, SICK, and the cosplay cast of Walking Dead.

Me, SICK, and the cosplay cast of Walking Dead.

Yes, I’m a fan of The Walking Dead. It took me a long time to get around to watching it, because that first episode with the half-woman crawling on the grass . . . how they elicited empathy from those two scenes frankly scared me. I knew, as did millions of others, that this was to be no ordinary zombie romp. I could barely handle the gore; my taste for that disappeared many years ago. But even moreso, I couldn’t handle the emotion.

I’ve not been able to pick up this current season, despite a few attempts at trying. The entire arc of Terminus and what the Termites do . . . I just can’t stomach it. I’ve watched enough Talking Dead to give up on it for now, though I dutifully record it just in case.

And I wonder:

This is what we use for entertainment now? Watching people eat each other? It’s not new or unique to this series, but man. Walking Dead pulls zero punches. Zero.

Then I wonder:

Is it all just a matter of degrees?

I’m a huge Buffy fan. I watch it (and re-watch it) for the story. I watch Walking Dead for the story. What’s the difference, if any? Buffy has combat and fighting and the best and the worst that humanity has to offer in its stories. The Walking Dead offers the same thing, but with more gore. So what’s the difference? Is it like the old joke, “I only read Playboy for the articles”?

“I only watch Walking Dead for the story and character.” “I only watch Breaking Bad for the story and the character.”

Really? You’re sure those are the only reasons?

While I enjoy all of these shows—at least, I think it’s enjoyment—I’m left wondering if Walking Dead is simply too accurate. It worries me that, zombies notwithstanding, it’s just pointing out the inevitable future of the human race. Is it showing us the truth about ourselves, and if so . . . is it our fate? I don’t mean a zombie apocalypse (believe it or not), but rather, is it our fate to treat our fellow living human beings the way these characters treat others?

I mean, I cannot envision a time or circumstance in which I would eat human flesh. I can’t eat leftovers from my favorite restaurants!  But then I’ve never been trapped on a mountain hoping for rescue. I’ve never been in a zombie apocalypse. And while I watch the show and condemn the actions of some of its characters (like what Michonne and Rick did-or-rather-didn’t do to the backpacker in season 3, episode 12), I also know that I have a three-year-old. And I know there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that child, much like a certain dad did for a certain son when that son was being threatened. Those of you who watch the show know what scene I’m talking about. I appreciate The Walking Dead for giving me that idea; that if I and my son were ever in a similar situation, now I know what to do. It’s disgusting. It’s inhuman. But I would do it. Would not hesitate.

So then, does the show tell us who we are at our core? In the event of a catastrophe of an apocalypse scale, is this how we would treat each other? The one time we most need to band together, are we capable of doing it?

Because here’s the thing:

The world is in jeopardy right now as I write this. The world, our world, is falling apart. Oh, the planet will be fine—Earth doesn’t need us to keep spinning and creating and sustaining life. It just won’t be our life, the way things are headed.

Even without zombies walkers, we’re at a point where we need to band together. Instead, we kill unarmed people and we crash planes into buildings and we let our neighbors starve or children go to school hungry or our veterans to die alone and frightened on the street after having killed the people we think are responsible for the aforementioned atrocities in the first place . . . can you say “vicious unending cycle”?

I’ve heard—not confirmed, and hard-core (die hard?) fans might know for sure—that the word “zombie” is never used because in the world of the show, there is no George Romero, no cultural history of “zombies” per se. Maybe that’s true.

Or maybe the creators simply know the phrase “walking dead” has many more connotations to it than “zombie” does. I guess it’s that age-old media question: Does our entertainment cause us to become something, or does it merely reflect what it already sees? Probably the answer is Yes. Yes, both.

Maybe we’re already walking dead. Maybe we are already consuming one another’s flash. Nothing new here. Nothing that a thousand online prophets haven’t already endlessly dissected. I guess I just needed to hear myself say it out loud, so to speak.

Can we be better? I know I’m trying. But it’s not easy. Maybe you can help me. Maybe we can help each other.

I’m open to ideas. All’s I know is what I’d like to do if I ever see a Backpacker—apocalypse or no apocalypse. Because that Backpacker is everywhere already.

And you and I might be him someday if we’re not already.

Be Human.

 

Things To Do While Still In High School #1 – Own the Angst

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While everyone else was out drinking, getting high, or, you know, going on dates with actual girls, I was doing this, with apologies in advance to any Depeche Mode fans:

Can you feel the angst? It drips from the ceiling. The story behind this video is not the point (it’s a good story, maybe for later). The point is, you should do this.

I don’t necessarily mean making an angst-ridden video, although I know that happens a lot on YouTube and elsewhere. (Here, I was going to post an example YouTube video, but I got too depressed reading the comments people were leaving. The shit people feel free to say online drives me insane, hence my novel RANDOM, which is inspired by real events and by events you probably have experienced yourself, statistically speaking.)

The reality is adolescent brains are cooking on overtime. You probably know that much. That’s not an excuse to do stupid or dangerous things. Don’t drink and drive, for example. Don’t get pregnant or get anyone pregnant (just trust me on that one, okay? You’ll be glad later if you dodge that).

But while I’m a huge proponent of #stayhere and not doing things your body or mind can’t recover from, I also believe you should be yourself, and experience everything there is to experience right now. Angst is good.  It can be harmful, but it can also be a lot of fun. It’s like, on the one hand, people are always telling you to grow up, and that’s fair; this is your origin story. The decisions you make today will reverb down through the rest of your life. They will. I promise, they will. Good and bad ones, they’ll stick with you. So make good ones.

But on the other hand, don’t grow up too fast, either. See, the other side of this “grow up” mentality that most so-called grown-ups won’t tell you is that this is when you should fail. You should reach for the sky and get knocked down. It’s so much better to do that now than in your twenties, and better in your twenties than your thirties, and so on. (We’ll talk about your twenties some other time. That’s a whole other mess.)

I’m not saying to be irresponsible. On the contrary, you should be exceptionally responsible, because that’ll pay off later. But go up and ask that guy that out! Ask that girl out! Go on adventures. Stay up till the sun rises once in a while. Confide your secrets. Give your heart to someone, and then survive when he or she tosses it casually into a woodchipper. Which he or she will inevitably do.

And when everything goes wrong, make an angsty music video.

Then go dance, sing, lip-synch, whatever. This is your time. Own it. Yes, be careful…but own it all the same. Life will settle down soon enough. Sooner than you can imagine. Don’t rush for it.

Maybe I’m telling you stuff you already know, in which case—good! I’m glad you’re out there kicking metaphorical ass and having a great time.

But if you didn’t know this, if you didn’t realize that this was your time to both shine and suffer, then I encourage you to try both. I’m not advising you this because I regret not doing it myself—I’m advising you this way because I did. We lived up every second of high school, good and bad, diving deep into whatever the moment brought. I got hurt. I hurt others. I regret the second one, but not the first.

I don’t write YA because I didn’t have a great time; I write YA because I did. And I want you to. All of you. All of us.

Anyway. Sermon over. Have a great weekend, huh?

And, P.S. Just in case any friends want to leave snarky comments, remember – I have your videos too. Don’t push me, man. Don’t push me.

 Take care, stay here, say words.

~ Tom

 

Transitional Period

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I’d love to sit here and tell you that Laurie Halse Anderson is a good friend of mine. But that would be disingenuous of me. That’s nothing against her, by the way; ohmygod, if you’re a fan like I am, let me just tell you right now she is exactly as cool and awesome in person as you’d think. But do we hang out regularly at those secret writers’ retreats sipping coffee and discoursing on character development? No. A very sad, sad no. 

laurie halse w fam2

Laurie Halse Anderson – a kick-ass human being.

BUT, having said that, she did give me something when we met a couple years ago that has been a huge help, and that is The Five Year Plan. 

This is–my words, now–basically a way to write down your goals for the next five years, and you update it every year. Everyone’s will be different; mine is mostly focused on my publishing goals, such as “Sell one YA contemporary novel” and/or “Sell one middle-grade adventure.” Things like that. I, personally, also keep track of speaking engagements and whether or not I got paid for them.

Let me tell you … this thing works. The first year I did it, I hit every single one of my goals. I think it’s just because there they were, waiting to be checked off. (I’m a hard-core checker-offer.) I set out to get ten paid speaking engagements; I ended up with twelve. I wanted to sell my next YA novel; did that, too. And so on.

It’s now October 2014, and I’m updating my 5 Year Plan for 2015, looking back at 2014, and I gotta say…eesh! Things did not go according to plan. I mean, big-time.

Okay. That’s what the 5 Year Plan is for, at least the way I use it. I was able to track exactly where I went off the rails, and where exactly I want to go in 2015.

 

So what’s on your 5 Year Plan? The keyword there is your. Look out a bit, what do you see? Who do you want to be next year, or in five? Write it down, brothers and sisters. Write it down. You can do anything.

No, you really can.

Take care, and say words.

Random Pulp Fiction quote of the day that’s running through my head: “Normally, both your asses would be dead as f***ing fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you.” ~ Jules