Don’t forget I’m giving away three copies of Great Tidings of Boys. See details HERE. You have until Sunday to enter.

Okay, here’s a tip–don’t take vitamins on an empty stomach. Ugh. I felt so icky I had to quickly eat breakfast (which I usually do in my car–multi-tasking you know). Then I still felt a tiny bit icky, so I had to turn to the comforting arms of mini chocolate donuts, orange juice, and a Pepsi. Worked like a charm!

Anyone liking any of the new fall shows? I’m really disappointed in Glee. That show has such potential and now is the perfect time for it–but I’m not liking 80 percent of it. It’s like it wants to be the Sex and City of the glee club culture.  We already have Gossip Girls for our SATC fix, so it just needs to be what it naturally should be–a funny, campy show about high school with music and dancing.  It’s trying too hard. And so far I’m done. I’ve been meaning to return to the show Castle, but I keep forgetting. I hear the Houseseason premiere was fabulous. I missed it. I always think I have the diagnosis figured out on that show. And I’m wrong every single time. This is why I teach speech. And not anatomy and physiology. (Never mind that I pretty much flunked that in college. The fact that I read Prevention magazine qualifies me to solve medical mysteries.)

So I’m seeing Whip It this weekend. I’m really really really really really excited about that. If it sucks, I’m gonna be ticked off. I will probably be so mad I’ll swear off movies. For at least a week.

People have asked, so I wanted to give you an update on the wild kitty situation. Okay, I won’t go into details, but things are amiss at this retirement home. I wrote a series about a teen crime solver (A Charmed Life ), so I pretty much have street cred when it comes to mysteries. (Plus I watched a lot of Scooby Doowhen I was a kid.)   So there were three kitties who lived on a roof. And now. . .there is one. I know, right? And the other two met with unhappy fates, and every time I think about it I get the feeling like I took my vitamins on an empty stomach. These are the sort of things that keep me up at night. Not global relations, not the threat of a nuclear empowered Iran, not the idea that there is national talk of significantly upping the hours the American teen and teacher must go to school. But kitties. The plight of kitties and other helpless animals has me staring at the ceiling and throwing dirty looks at the clock.

So without going into any explanations that would burden other animal sensitive souls, this kitty’s days are numbered. I know it, even though I’ve been told differently by the director of the retirement home. So I got intel about the other two kitties (may their furry souls rest in kibble peace) Monday. And I thought about it all Monday afternoon. On Monday evening, I was walking with a friend and telling her about it. She says, “You’re going there tonight, aren’t you? You’re gonna go try and get that cat.”

Yep. Yep, I was.  So I go home and with little time in the evening left, I launch Project Steal Endangered Kitty. (It was called Project Get This Wild Cat Away From That Psycho Place That Kills Cats and Tells Big Impossible Stories That Jesus And I Know is Total Crap So Whatever. But the decal I made for my t-shirt wouldn’t fit, so I had to shorten it down.)  So I get some tuna, get some kitty treats. And I drive about 20 minutes to the next town to get this party started. And by that, I mean to grab my mom.

I swing by my mother’s house, and she’s eating dinner. And I’m like, “Hey! What are you doing?!”
“Eating. Do you want something to eat?”
“No.” At this point, she knew something was up. I had just refused food. Specifically I had just refused pizza–she probably thought I had come to tell her I was terminally ill.
“I’m gonna go get that kitty.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
I wait.
And wait.
“Do you want me to go?”
“Of course!” So I gave her two seconds to finish her meal (the sun was setting. I mean this literally and as a metaphor for the young fuzzy one’s life.)

So with great enthusiasm (like the kind of enthusiasm I might show for a plate of green beans), she gets in the car with me. My stepdad hands me some gloves to handle this wild kitty. He offers some advice. But he doesn’t offer to go along, so he won’t be getting a Project Steal Endangered Kitty t-shirt.

Anyway, this is where the story tanks. We go to the retirement home. I see the cats–momma cat and her sole surviving baby are on the roof snuggled up together. Of course I go back to my car to get my camera because I have a blog to run and the world needs to see this as much as they need to see that Anglo-Saxon treasure that was uncovered last week. When I get back from the car my mom is talking to a resident. Our first obstacle. My mother is much more polite than I am, so she chats it up with the resident. I just wave and smile and start Phase One of “The Plan.” (The Plan at this point just being to wave tuna around like a bubble wand and hope for the best.)  

Next The Resident asks us in to her room to see HER CAT. Her cat is completely irrelevant to Phase One or any other phase, and I have minutes of daylight left. I give mom a look like, “You go ahead. I have work to do–lives to save.” But Mother smiles and says, “Jenny, let’s go see the cat. OKAY?”  As in “If you don’t come with me now, I’m going to hijack your blog and tell them about every embarrassing moment you’ve ever had, including a few that never even happened. And I’ll tell your neighbor you have a crush on him. Even though he’s eight-five.”

So with a HUGE sigh and an eye roll (It was getting dark–you couldn’t really see it), I go see Resident’s cat. When we get back outside from the tour de cat room, the kitty is gone. Mom continues talking to Resident, who is not going to be an honorary member of Project Steal Endangered Kitty because she can’t use her “quiet time” voice, and I stake out the place for signs of mini-kitty life.

I hear the little guy, and start rustling bushes to smoke him out. Mom starts doing the same. While still talking.

So he darts around. Mom runs to the tree they use to climb to the roof. She guards it with everything she’s got. (About time she got in the game.)  But we lose him. I spent the next ten minutes (in the dark) walking around with tuna and sending telepathic messages to the kitty like, “I’m your only hope for survival.” And “Follow the scent of the Chicken of the Sea. It’s dolphin safe and packed in water.”  But. . .no kitty. So Phase One failed. I was forced to admit defeat and return to command central to drown my sorrows in a bowl of cereal and Miller’s psychotic meowing.

I haven’t heard from the home. They SAY they are looking out for the kitty and will try and catch it for me. I would rather be there in person when they “catch” it. I have my doubts at their methods.

Anyway, Phase Two begins this afternoon. I’m going back. I’m hoping to recruit some old ladies and that one guy with the walker. I think if we all work together we can do it. Plus part of Phase Two requires three sets of dentures, so I need these people. Keep your fingers crossed. And if you’re praying people, say a prayer for me and the fate of Endangered Kitty. I’m not even keeping the little guy. It’s going to my friends Crazy Sheila and Super Smart Techie Joel.  But I am determined to save this life.  I cannot fail. I must not. And just because this tiny cat moves like the Tasmanian Devil, I’m sure I can catch him. Somehow. Some way.

Have a great rest of the week. I will update you soon. Right now my prayer is that I can somehow intercept this kitty. And that I don’t do anything to get arrested.

JEN

7 comments

Did everyone have a good weekend? I did! Except for one of my Saturday afternoon tasks. So my car needed to be waxed. Like a few years ago. And two different people I know were like, “WAX your car already.” So. . .I finally did. But I hadn’t waxed my own vehicle since probably college days. And I guess I was a little rusty. Because it didn’t go well. Apparently you CAN leave the stuff on too long.  And how do you know if you’ve left it on too long? When it takes a sand blaster and some unholy words to get it off. Seriously, I probably needed to go to the altar Sunday morning over my car waxing attitude.

I’ve kept this car longer than any vehicle I’ve ever owned. I got convicted not to buy a new car when Suzie Orman said “A car’s only purpose is to get you from Point A to Point B. Does yours do that? Then you don’ t need a new one.”  (Suzie can be a such a hag!) Then I listened to Dave Ramsey who said the same thing. So…I have kept this car instead of giving into temptation and upgrading every few years like I used to. All that to say when half my car was coated with green wax that had been sitting for a while and refused to budge and I was on like hour 2 with hours left to go, I thought, “I wonder if Honda would take this thing–just like it is. I’d rather buy a new car right now than spend one more second on this.” I seriously was mad enough to hop in the 1/2 green car and go trade the thing in. I don’ t think there’s a dollar amount I wouldn’t have paid to turn the job over to someone else. But I pressed on, drove 20 minutes to the car wash to correct some huge errors in greenness, and went to Braum’s for my favorite ice cream. And for once I didn’t get the junior cone.

So let’s do a giveaway. I’m giving away three copies of Shelley Adina’s Tidings of Great Boys.

Great title, eh? I love the color scheme of the cover. Purple apparently is THE color of the fall season. Thank God it’s not orange. Which makes my complexion look like I just threw up.

Okay, so let’s get a question of the week. How about to get in the running for one of the books, you leave a comment and answer the question: Who is someone famous you’d love to meet? (and why)  You don’t have to limit it to one person, but the individual must be living.  And it has to be generally accepted that the person is living. (So you can’t pick Elvis, Mom.) Last day to enter the drawing is Sunday. After pot roast lunch. I’ll announce the three winners next Monday.

I would have to say I would saw off my right arm (no my left. let’s not go too crazy–it would be hard to eat cereal with my left) to meet Carol Burnett. She is totally my hero. She is the funniest woman on the planet and totally paved the way for women in sketch comedy. I used to watch the Carol Burnett Show reruns every day when I was growing up. Then my friend Denise and I would act them out. We would usually crack ourselves up. But we normally didn’t crack anyone else up. Audiences can be so tough.

So we had show-n-tell this last week. It’s really just my sneaky way of my kids giving their first speech. I had some really great ones. On Wednesday I had a student show us his guitar. He started to pack it up, and I said, “Aren’t you going to play us something?”  Because number one, I want to hear some music and number two, it takes up class time (teachers love distractions too). So he nervously thinks about it, then goes back up in front of the class. And begins to play. And as he plays the intro, I’m thinking I know this song. And then he begins to sing this:

Isn’t that cool? Just a reminder that I teach in a very politically correct public school. So yeah, very cool. I was very proud of that kid just for having the guts to sing in front of his classmates period, not to mention how jazzed I was that he sang THAT song. Gutsy.

And then Thursday I had a student bring his violin. This student caught my attention pretty much on day one because he loves classical music and is very knowledgeable about it. So he tells us about his violin–how his immigrant parents from Mexico bought it for him and it was a big deal because they don’t buy expensive things. I think they made a very wise investment. After my smart ninth grader said he knew the violin was his ticket to college, I asked him to play something. This is what we heard (at the 1:25 marker):

Can you believe that? To say it was amazing would be an understatement. I was in the presence of musical greatness. We know I don’t have a blubbery bone in my body (talking tears here, not fat). But students+art? Gets me every time. I was totally wiping my eyes. Completely teared up. I wish you guys could’ve heard that boy play.

I saw Fame this weekend. It was okay. I’d give it a C minus. I wasn’t bored out of my head, but…I was bored. I liked the singing, the dancing. But about an hour into it, I thought is the plot gonna start any time soon?

I really want to see Bright Star.

“My sister has read his poem book. And she wants to see if he’s an idiot or not.” That’s how I feel about a lot of poetry and the creators. I’m hearing great buzz about this movie, but unfortunately it’s not playing in my area. Hopefully it will. I love period pieces. And big hats–I’m a sucker for big hats. But. . .I don’t see how it can end happy. I’m pretty sure they don’t break out into song and dance like they did on Fame. Which is a pity. Because I think I would enjoy any movie more if that did occur. Have you all ever seen the movie Much Ado About Nothing? (My most favorite story ever, even if it is by Shakespeare.)  It ends in singing and dancing. Merry making. Revelry. Lollygaggery.

Speaking of happy things, have you seen this talented dalmatian?

I don’t know whether that’s neato to watch…or wince worthy. Did anyone else wince while watching that? Just seems…wrong. Now if you could show me video of a dalmatian who could walk and vacuum, then I might be impressed. And ready to write a check.

Something else I accomplished this weekend was finding a picture of the leading man for the book I’m working on. I like to print out real pics of my characters. Helps me visualize them. Anyway, what do you think of Dave Annable? I found him on Ellen. He was just there. On stage. Waiting for me to see him and put him in a book. So I did. You’re welcome, Dave Annable. Does anyone have any suggestions for his female love interest? I’ve had red heads and brunettes, so maybe I should branch out and have a blonde leading lady? Pamela Anderson and Jessica Simpson need not apply.

One last thing–Chili’s restaurants are huge supporters of St. Jude, one of the best charities ever created. Many Chili’s restaurants are donating 100 percent of their profits today to St. Jude’s. So if you are looking for a place to eat lunch, dinner, or fourth meal, head to a participating Chili’s.

Have a great week. Don’t forget to let me know what famous person you’d love to meet. You have until Sunday afternoon to comment.

JEN

22 comments

“You want fame? Well, fame costs. . .and right here is where you get it.”

I’m watching Fame the movie this weekend. And while I’m excited Debbie Allen makes an appearance, if I don’t hear that line, I’m gonna write my senator. Anyone else going to see it? Has anyone seen that Jennifer Aniston movie?

I have purple nail polish on today. It looks perfectly trampy.

I wanted to show off the rest of my ACFW conference pics.

This is author Colleen Coble‘s side profile as Debbie Macomber smiles on. Debbie is thinking, “That is one sassy profile you got there, Colleen!” Both authors are incredibly nice. Debbie was our keynote and has a purse-full of testimonies and amazingly cool God stories. If you ever get a chance to hear her speak, do it.

Here’s a really dark picture of the Thomas Nelson crew.

We had a great time of hanging out and eating fajitas. Notice there’s absolutely no food left on the table. We T-Nel people can take care of business.

Thomas Nelson authors Kimberly Cash Tate and Rachel Hauck, two ladies I got to chat with during dinner. Very fun authors.

Here’s my view from one of the conference rooms. I believe this is the ugliest carpet in the world.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I have no idea what we discussed in the class I was in during this time, but I do know I have the random patterns of that ugly carpet memorized. Marriott, you give carpet a bad name.

So how do you know if you’re in a good airport?

So I was in the Denver airport and went to the ladies room. When I did the sit-down-on-the-toilet-seat-pivot, I saw this.

From the corner of my eye it looked real, so I about tinkled in my pants. But I tingkled in the toilet instead.

On the flight from Denver to Dallas, I sat by a nice woman. She was a grandmother. Very kind. She sat down and said hello. I said hello. And then I got that feeling. You know when you just have this feeling that someone wants to talk? And if you didn’t know me personally you probably wouldn’t know this, but I’m not a talker. I’m not. I’m a listener, but I’m not a talker. Especially if I haven’t known you forever and a day. So anyway, even though we said nothing more than hello, I just knew this woman wanted to chat. And me being me–I ignored it. I got out my book, got out my ipod, got out my pillow that travels with me everywhere (shut up).

So about 45 minutes into this flight, I’m feeling guilty for not initiating conversation. I notice the woman reaching for the flight mag for the second time. Nobody reads those things twice. So I offer her my People. She gladly accepts. And then I do it. I open my mouth.

“Are you leave home or going home?” I ask.

And thus begins our hour long conversation. Because the soft spoken woman didn’t just want to talk, she needed to talk. It was one of those conversations that I kept thinking there’s a book or two here for someone.

The woman’s sister had just died. She was returning from the memorial and from helping her brother clean out Sister’s apartment. Sister was in her early 60s and had led a tragic life. She had made a lot of bad decisions. She had been cremated, but since she was not married 75 percent of her siblings had to sign off on this cremation, which we both thought was odd. Sister was a pack rat, which brought to mind the movie Grey Garden‘s again. They had to clear a path in each room to get to her things. She had 700 DVD and VHS tapes. The videos, along with much of her other things, would be donated to a women’s shelter because “My sister would’ve liked that. I’d seen pictures where she had been beaten up by various men herself.”

Sister also had a life insurance policy, but she had borrowed against it, and now only 29 dollars remained. The woman beside me and Brother had never heard of the man listed as beneficiary, but they were going to try and find him. Yet no one knew this name. (I loved that part)

While they were cleaning her apartment, Brother said, “Come here.” And he showed the woman a list of 14 names. They were the names of Sister’s husbands. The woman said, “Funny thing is. . .as far as we know, she only got divorced three times.”

Sister also had a kitty in her apartment. All the siblings love animals. Brother especially. While they were there sorting through her personal effects, they noticed the kitty acting strange. They took the kitty to the vet and it was bad news. He had kidney stones and surgery would cost 2500 with no guarantee the kidney stones wouldn’t be back the next day. So with no choice, they had to put the kitty down. Brother felt terrible. Guilty. She had tears in her eyes as she told this. I had tears in my eyes as she told this. She assured Brother he did the right thing. I assured her she did the right thing.

The woman didn’t know what made Sister fall for bad men and make all these bad choices in life. But she had had a hard, hard life. The woman said she herself had a good life. So when the family needed money for Sister’s funeral, she knew she had to pay it. In fact, she had Brother pass on money for another sister’s hay for her animals. The woman had her family, she hadn’t led this troubled life, she’d said, almost like she felt a little guilty. She knew she had to help the others.

Sister got a gravestone near her mother. It  had a cat on it. It included Sister’s name, date of birth, and date of death. And two simple words: In Peace.

By the end of  the story, I was sniffing and wiping my eyes. I assured her she had been a blessing to her family. I listened to stories of her grandchildren and told her she was a good grandmother. I listened to her tell me that she was in a trial experiment for the swine flu vaccine. I was glad we had shared a story. And not a  Coke.

When the flight was over, I had a million things to say to the lady. But all I did was give her a lame, “Good luck with everything. They’re fortunate to have you.” And then a mumbled “God bless you.”  I wanted to tell her she was sitting by a praying girl. That I had said a few prayers for her while we were talking. That she had a sweet and gentle spirit that I could feel as soon as she sat down or I never would’ve said a word beyond hello. That her sadness was palpable, but she couldn’t take that guilt on that she was carrying. Because none of it was her fault. That I loved the story of her 15 year old grandson refusing her offer to drop him off in an out-of-sight place at football practice because he wanted his grandma to take him right to the door. That I had known the ending to the cat story before she had started. And they did all they could. That she had made an imprint on my day and God had placed our seats together. Because the plane had not been full–and she could’ve easily have had an entire row to herself. If she had moved.
But she hadn’t.
And neither had I.

That’s what I wanted to tell her.

You just never know what you’re going to get when you sit down on a plane. It was better than screaming children any day. Or the man sandwich I was in a few years ago. I won’t even explain that one, but my personal space was so invaded on both sides I thought I was going to cave in on myself.

I hope you have a lovely weekend. Next week I’m giving away 3 copies of a new YA book, so do stop back by.

JEN

16 comments

That’s me and super agent Chip MacGregor at the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference last week. (Thanks to Margo Carmichael, from whom I stole the picture.)  I always like catching up with him during this yearly event. Even if he was on pain meds at the time.

Whenever I get on a plane I tend to write. As mentioned a hundred times, flying makes me nervous, so my brain tends to get overloaded with racing thoughts like “Is my seat cushion REALLY a flotational device? Will the flight attendant like me more if I pretend to listen to her safety schpiel? Is it oxygen on a kid first or oxygen on me–and what if I’m traveling with a cat?”  So to make sure my head doesn’t explode, I tend to write down a little flight journal entry.  I thought I would share my entry from last Wednesday, the day I left (at 5:45 in the morning) for Denver to the ACFW conference.

(ahem, begin journal)

Went to bed at one a.m. I was through with work the day before at 1 in the afternoon, yet still almost twelve hours later I was just going to bed. I think I am packlexic. I just don’t understand packing–I see it differently. When I see a suitcase, things stop making sense.

So my flight today was supposed to be at 3:50 pm, but last night I thought why don’t I go early and kick around Denver. So I got up at 3:45 (barf–seriously wanted to barf. Miller the Cat stayed in bed. He was like “You get up, crazy. I ain’t gettin’ up.”)  on the off chance I could fly standby at 6:45. And I could. In fact, they changed my flights for free. Weirdly nice of American Airlines.

Last night my parents stopped by my house with cookies. Two in my bag right now calling my name. Except I’m too pooped to reach down and pick them up.

Okay, zero visibility outside. None. All clouds and fog. (Jesus take the wheel! Take it from the plot’s hands! Cause he can’t do this on his own…”)

I’m on the loudest flight ever. I think the engine is strapped under my seat.  But it’s a bigger plane that usual to Dallas. Only 30 of us on here–so IDEAL. I have a row of three all to myself. I am quite comfy. Despite the fact that I’m poised 30,000 feet in the air.

It’s orange juice time.

Reading People magazine. Brad and Kimberly Paisley have the cutest kids ever and no nanny. One kid is Huck–love that. The other is Jasper. Was she watching Twilight when she picked a name? (Note to self–should I ever find myself PG, do not watch Twilight. I don’t want a baby named Cullen or Renesme.)

Note II: I can down three ounces of oj in two seconds.

Note III: Sometimes it’s good to take a break from your favorite pen. I’m now writing with a Brandilyn Collins “Seatbelt Suspense” pen I got at a conference three years ago. There are no Jenny B. Jones pens. But I am working on a Chia in my likeness…

I want those cookies.

But then if I eat them I won’t be hungry when I get to DFW. And then if I don’t eat breakfast No. 2 (if you eat at 5 am or before it’s as good as not eating breakfast at all. It never happened. Automatic do-over) Anyway, if I don’t eat breakfast No. 2 then what will I do on my layover? I can’t read. I love to read, but I hate reading in airports. There’s too much going on to do that. And when I say too much going on, I mean there’s a McDonald’s, Burger King, Sbarros, Chilis to Go, and Auntie Anne’s. (Ohhhh, I can taste butter in these cookies…totally worth it.)

I have to pee. But it seems gluttonous to use the plane bathroom on a 47 minute flight. And I care about appearances. Never mind that I’m the only passenger eating cookies at 7 am and clutching a baby pillow.

I gotta put these cookies up.

Why do they put animal stories in my People? I know an article about animals successfully using (why is this plane in overdrive all of a sudden? Is someone chasing us?) prosthetics is a triumph of the animal spirit, but it totally puts AK-47 holes in my heart. But one dog has two prosthetics after chewing his own legs off to get out of a wolf trap in Alaska. He now sticks his limbs out to tell his owner “I’m ready to get my legs on.” I can’t read the rest of this. I seriously can’t. At one point in high school I wanted to work part time in a vet clinic. But I didn’t. Thank God. Cause I’d be blogging from the Arkansas Mental Hospital right now if I had.

Picture of Kate Beckinsale in People. She’s wearing a fifteen dollar Wal-Mart maxi-dress and carrying a $3675 hobo bag.

Hot trend: sequins.
Note to Self IV: Add Bedazzler to Christmas list.

Everywhere I shop, every magazine I see–tall boots for fall. This is not good news for short girls.

I wonder when this headrest was last cleaned.

Four years ago I was on my way to ACFW for the first time.  Bad flight. My friend Erin and I were praying for our lives. Literally. Out loud. Erin went with the 23rd Psalm. I went with some begging-whining-made-up-on-the spot thing.

I need tea. But no tea this week. I spent last year’s conference in a caffeine coma.
Maybe I’ll take up smoking instead.

You can pay to get wi-fi on this flight?  That’s considered acceptable but I can’t listen to my iPod during takeoff? What if people are emailing terrorists? I mean, I don’t care. I just want to listen to some Keith Urban while my stomach drops to the floor, and I fight the urge to jump in the lap of the person next to me.

Visibility back to zero again. Just in time for landing. That’s a good feeling. Oh, wait. Hello, Dallas! Yes, I see it down there. Finally–nope. Gone again. Maybe it’s not fog. Maybe it’s the California wildfires. Either way, someone needs to clear this stuff up. The pilots and I need to see to land this bird.

I’m so tired.
I mean, two hours and forty-five minutes=not much sleep.

Okay. We’re descending, and every time we lose visibility the pilot guns it. What is that? I keep craning my neck to watch the flight attendant’s reaction, but he’s just reading the paper. At a time like this.

Crazy flight is over.
Mario Andretti got us here.
Thank you, God.
I need cookies.

(end journal)

*****************************

That’s it. I guess an alternate title for this post might be Reasons Why You Don’t Want to Sit By Me on the Plane. But I do come with snacks, so it wouldn’t be a total loss to be stuck beside me.

Have a great rest of the week. I’m gonna go try to write a book now.

JEN

12 comments

First things first. The winner of Just Between You and Me is Amy N. Amy, shoot me an email (jen at jennybjones dot com) and gimme yo addy, girl.

Second: kitty update. So far the three cats are still on the roof living life. But I’ve been told their days at the retirement home are numbered. I have something in the works called Roof Kitty Intervention. I’m not sure how to capture wild cats on the top of a building, but I’ve already been told by two different people to make sure I film it. But clearly I can’t. Because I can’t drag a tripod up there and obviously I’m gonna need both my hands. And feet. And possibly a shark net.

I have  been at the American Christian Fiction Writers yearly conference. This year it was in Denver, Colorado, which is a beautiful place. I guess. Here’s what I saw of it.From the one night I broke out:

So yeah, I went to the majestic city of Denver and I saw…a mall.

Here’s the view out of my hotel room. . .

I guess I’ll just have to go back to Colorado when I’m not bound to a hotel 24/7.  Next year the conference is in Indianapolis. What do people see/do there? I must start planning my breakout in advance…

So The Big Picture won ACFW’s book of the year in the YA category. Woo! I wasn’t actually there for the award’s ceremony, but word is my agent, Chip MacGregor, made the audience do the wave? I dunno. But sounds fun. I was on a  plane doing my own version of a wave. . .At least there was a lot of me throwing my hands up in the air. Other ACFW winners include Susan Meissner and her book The Shape of Mercy. You gotta read this book. I really recommend it. It’s a cool plot and her writing is excellent. Also Rachel Hauck won with Sweet Caroline. I hate to name drop. . .but I totally am.

Me and Rachel Hauck

I love Rachel’s books as well. I recommended Love Starts with Elle a long time ago. You gotta read it. I haven’t read Sweet Caroline, but it’s definitely going on my “must read” list. Rachel is currently co-writing a series of books with country star Sara Evans, which pretty much makes her the coolest person I know right now. I co-write with Miller the Puking Cat, but I never give him any credit. Not until he can wield his own can of Woolite carpet cleaner.

My post last Wednesday was really lame. The article on Novel Journey didn’t go up when I thought it would. Little mix up. So sorry there wasn’t anything to read Wednesday! I couldn’t get to my blog all week. But thanks to all for your comments on the posts last week even though I didn’t get to respond back. I’m gonna get to those this week!

So I had the worst hair in the world in Colorado. It was abysmal. And there is something about hotel rooms that gives me some sort of allergy fit. Like I wake up and look high. The whole day. So I’m like, “Hi, I’m Jenny Jones. I write Christian fiction and I look like I’ve been inhaling the fumes of recreational drugs.”

This year’s conference was ultra cool because agent/author Donald Maass was there for an all day session. If you’re interested in writing fiction, definitely check out his books The Fire in Fiction and Writing the Breakout Novel. Here he is.

He looks very New York, doesn’t he? Black jacket, black pants, black shoes, navy shirt. He was very New York. So he’s in a room with over 300 Christian writers, right? Totally drops the F bomb. I laughed for two days straight about that. Not that the F bomb is funny. But the shock in that room was priceless. Um, Donald…know your audience. That’s my writing tip. And I had the best seat for the moment. I mean I was right in front of Donald when it came out of his mouth. And for once in a meeting I was actually paying attention. It pays off sometimes.

My sweet writing friend Ann Miller was kind enough to save us some seats for the session. Guess where she put us?
Front row. And when I say front, I mean this close.

That’s the podium. And that’s my water bottle. I was directly in front of the guy.

And the night before I had two and a half hours of sleep (one word: PACKING) and so I about passed out during the Maass presentation. I don’t mean passed out literally. But I was EXHAUSTED. And I kept catching my eyes closing…and staying there. And I’d be like, “You have to open your eyes. You have to open…well, maybe just a few more seconds….” And then there was the whole eyes rolling in the back of my head thing. So I had to go take a nap before Mr. Maass thought I was having an Exorcist moment. I went and took a quick cat nap and came back for the second session a new woman. A woman who could keep her eyeballs open. And hear F bombs.

Here’s my roomie and me.

That’s author Christa Allan. We formed a new club this year–the Short Authors Who Also Teach club. So far the membership drive isn’t going well. We only have one more recruit. But there’s always next year. Probably if we had t-shirts and a snappy logo we’d get more takers. Or if more short people existed.

Here we are on the very first night. I was determined to get out to see Colorado even though I’d had minutes of sleep and was a walking zombie. See that hair? That’s my “I got up at 3 a.m so don’t even look at me” hair. Here we are at California Pizza Kitchen.

That’s me, Gina Conroy, and Christa Allan
See how much I’m leaning over the table. That’s because I was ready to drop my head on it and take a little nappy poo. Why am I so packing disabled? I hadn’t slept the night before I packed, so I was like I’m starting packing early for once and getting to bed by ten! I’m gonna be so proud of myself. Okay, so I start at like 2 pm, and at 12:30 I was doing dishes, cleaning my kitchen, and still working on the suitcase. And I had to get up at 3:45 a.m. for my flight! I’m never more ADD than with house work and Samsonites. And do you think I’ve unpacked yet? Uh, just some candy and my toothbrush.

I felt so cut off from the news this week. And by news, I mean did Britney or Lindsey do anything? One thing I saw on the CNN crawl made me really sad, and that’s the loss of Mary from the awesome 60s trio Peter, Paul, and Mary.

I listened to them in college all the time. Nobody flips the hair like Mary.

I always liked this one too.

Okay, more pictures and conference details later. Come back Wednesday for more author pictures (not of me, so you’re safe) and the story of the woman I met on the plane, who is a book all by herself. Speaking of book, y’all have to get The Help. It’s blowing my mind with how amazing it is. More on that later. I must go put my Arkansas accent back on. I took it off when I left for Colorado.

JEN

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