Molly Ringle

Persephone's Orchard - giveaway over yonder at Goodreads

Thu, 23 May 2013 21:00:02 GMT

I'm in the midst of galley-proofing for Persephone's Orchard, which reminds me to tell you that:

a) it will be out in paperback as well as ebook at the end of June, and
b) there's a giveaway for the paperback happening here at Goodreads.

May the people the random number generator likes best win! And in the meantime, if you like the Persephone/Hades myth or know others who do, please consider spreading the word for the giveaway, and adding it to your to-read list. Even if you never get around to buying or reading it, putting a book on a public list helps other readers notice it, which helps writers.

Thank you, and good luck. Back to finding typos I go.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, condensed

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 18:02:47 GMT

Latest parody. I manage about one of these a year, it would seem. Only one HP book left for me to do, though! Enjoy...

HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE, condensed

by Molly Ringle
with respect and apologies for J.K. Rowling

READERS haul book off shelf and nearly fall over under its weight.
READERS: What the hell? Why is it so huge?
ROWLING: Funny story! So my editors were like, "People are getting a bit tired of Quidditch," and I was like, "How could anyone ever get tired of Quidditch?" And they were like, "Let's try some other big competition instead," and I was like, "OR, we could do BOTH." So yeah. We ended up with a 734-page novel.

CHAPTER ONE: DECREPIT, CREEPY, PROBABLY HAUNTED RIDDLE MANSION

Meet FRANK. He's an ancient war veteran who's had a lonely, thankless life guarding the Riddle Mansion because he has absolutely no friends. Everyone say, "Hi, Frank!"
READERS: Hi, Frank.
FRANK: Now what's this? Strange lights in the mansion? Better investigate.
VOLDEMORT: Ah, Wormtail, murdering people is so great. Won't it be awesome when we kill Harry Potter?
FRANK: Now Mister, you wait just a--
VOLDEMORT: Oh, a Muggle. Everyone say, "Bye, Frank."
READERS: Bye, Frank.

CHAPTER TWO: HARRY'S BEDROOM AT THE DURSLEYS'

HARRY: Whoa. Nightmare about Voldemort. And my scar hurts. Hmm, who should I tell about this?
For the benefit of READERS WHO CAN'T REMEMBER THE LAST THREE BOOKS, we are treated to a rundown of EVERYONE HARRY KNOWS. Ending with:
HARRY: (grabs notepaper) Dear Sirius: From your Facebook photos it looks like you're having a brilliant time in wherever exactly you are. But you might want to filter them so I can't see some of those, e.g. "Naked Beer Pong" album. Just a thought. Hey, any idea why my scar might hurt? 'Cause it does this morning. Love, Harry.
He sends off the letter.
HARRY: I mean, why tell him about the nightmare? What's the point in providing all the pertinent information?

CHAPTER THREE: HEY, GRAPEFRUIT ISN'T THAT BAD

The DURSLEYS are eating grapefruit for breakfast, which has succeeded in making them hate life even more than usual.
UNCLE VERNON: What the bloody rot? This letter with eighty-seven stamps says you're being invited to something called the Quidditch World Cup by your weird-arse friends the Weasleys.
HARRY: OMG SWEET.
UNCLE VERNON: So, er...if we say you can't go, does your convicted murderer godfather come torture us?
HARRY: (coyly) Well, I can't say that *isn't* a possibility...
UNCLE VERNON: Okay fine go.

CHAPTER FOUR: DURSLEYS' PAINFULLY UGLY LIVING ROOM

UNCLE VERNON: I hope these weirdo people show up in a normal fashion, at least.
THE ENTIRE WEASLEY CLAN then makes their appearance by busting through a bricked-up fireplace, scattering rubble all over the room.
MR. WEASLEY: Afternoon! Hah, silly me. Don't worry, we'll fix that before we leave.
DURSLEYS: ...
FRED: Oops, did we just spill toffees all over the floor? (winks at DUDLEY)
DUDLEY, five seconds after stuffing a toffee into his mouth, develops a freakish case of gigantic tongue.
UNCLE VERNON and AUNT PETUNIA go into hippo-rage and swooning-hysteria mode, respectively.
MR. WEASLEY: Hah! Sorry about that too. I'll just give that a little fix. (brandishes wand)
UNCLE VERNON: (flinging knickknacks) OUT!!!

CHAPTER FIVE: FAT BOTTOMED CAULDRONS MAKE THE WITCHIN' WORLD GO ROUND

MRS. WEASLEY: FRED AND GEORGE, YOU BLOKES ARE IN SUCH MASSIVE TROUBLE--welcome, Harry dear, make yourself at home--I WILL HEX THE EARS OFF YOUR STUPID HEADS AND FEED THEM TO CAMELS.
HARRY: (to RON and HERMIONE) Aside from that, everything else good here?
RON: Yep, except something or other about a woman named Bertha Jorkins missing from the Ministry. The editors could've cut it without costing the story much. I wouldn't worry about it.
PERCY: Also, with my new Ministry job, I've become even more pompous than before. Behold.
PERCY waxes boringly lyrical about how, when it comes to cauldrons, he likes thick bottoms and he cannot lie. You other wizards can't deny.

CHAPTER SIX: O-DARK-THIRTY AT THE BURROW

MR. WEASLEY: Up and at 'em, kids. Time to hike to the Quidditch World Cup! For complicated train-schedule-like reasons, we have to walk to the top of a hill at five in the morning and grab onto an old boot all in a big group.
HARRY: I'm so tired I'm just going to accept that explanation.
MR. WEASLEY: (striding up the hill with tired kids in tow) The boot's a Portkey, you see, and--oh hello, Diggorys!
CEDRIC DIGGORY: Hi.
GIRLS EVERYWHERE: SQUEE! (faint)
AMOS DIGGORY: Morning. Hey, it's Harry Potter. You know what I love? How my son beat Harry Potter at Quidditch. Ha ha ha. This isn't a show of hubris that will be repaid by my son tragically getting killed later, though, no.
CEDRIC: Dad. Uncool.
MR. WEASLEY: Okay, everyone put a finger on the boot!
They do. And poof! They get Portkey-teleported to...

CHAPTER SEVEN: SPRAWLING QUIDDITCH-FAN CAMPSITE AREA

WIZARDS AND WITCHES: We have tried to make our tents and other camping gear look like Muggle stuff, but have once again done a facepalm-inducing job. We have ended up looking more like Cirque du Soleil with dementia. Oh, but we get to Obliviate the local Muggles' minds once in a while so they don't notice we're here, so that's fun! And not ethically problematic at all.
LUDO BAGMAN: I'm the head of sports or something.
BARTY CROUCH: I'm this stiff Ministry dude who Percy worships.
VIKTOR KRUM: I'm a promising young Qvidditch playah vid a Bulgarian accent.
RON: I freaking love Krum and bought an action figure of him that can walk up and down on your hand or presumably any other part of you, if you're into that.

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP GAME IN TOTAL

ALL THE CHARACTERS: Quidditch!!!!! Woooooo!!!!!
IRELAND beats BULGARIA. Also, DOBBY is back, and there's a house-elf named WINKY who works for CROUCH and cowers a lot. Done.

CHAPTER NINE: CAMPSITE OF MASSIVE DRUNKEN REVELRY

ALL THE CHARACTERS: Quidditch!!! Wooooo!!--hey, what are they doing?
DARK WIZARDS IN MASKS: Whee! Let's spin Muggles up in the air!
GOOD WIZARDS: Hey! It's fine to permanently alter their memory, but it is NOT okay to give them non-consensual airplane rides.
HARRY: What's that in the sky?
HERMIONE: Gasp! The Dark Mark! Voldemort's swastika!
MR. CROUCH: And it was Harry Potter's wand that conjured it!
HARRY: Only, duh, I didn't do it, and wouldn't know how. Why was your house-elf holding my wand, anyway?
WINKY: Er. Um.
MR. CROUCH: You are so fired.
WINKY, and also HERMIONE: Noooooo!
READERS: Okay, putting aside house-elf drama for a moment, does it really matter who conjured the Dark Mark?
ROWLING: Only to me and Crouch. And it's going to be several hundred pages before you find out. So, the takeaway here is, Voldemort fandom is on the rise again.

CHAPTER TEN: BACK IN THE WEASLEY ABODE

MR. WEASLEY: Ministry of Magic has officially gone into freakout-denial mode. Yay.
MRS. WEASLEY: Here, Ron. Dress robes made from our draperies from the 1970s.
RON: I hate my life.
READERS: Why did we need the Quidditch World Cup, again? Couldn't the Dark Mark have happened near Hogsmeade or something?
ROWLING: Because--Quidditch!! WOOOO!! Come on, the Wronski Feint! You weren't enthralled??

CHAPTER ELEVEN: WEASLEY KITCHEN

MR. WEASLEY: Mad-Eye Moody.
MRS. WEASLEY: Mad-Eye Moody.
BILL: Mad-Eye Moody.
CHARLIE: Mad-Eye Moody.
GEORGE: Mad-Eye Moody.
READERS: So, is someone named Mad-Eye Moody going to be important in this book?
MRS. WEASLEY: Never mind. Off to Hogwarts, kids! Where you'll have a SPECIAL SURPRISE this year.
HARRY: Involving Mad-Eye Moody, or...?
CHARLIE: Haha, you'll see, bye!

CHAPTER TWELVE: HOGWARTS! FINALLY!

It's pouring rain when the kids arrive, and everyone goes slipping and careening across the Great Hall's stone floors, because evidently a non-slipping spell is just too technically complex for all these professors. Also, COLIN CREEVEY'S LITTLE BROTHER falls in the lake and is delighted about it, which is pretty hilarious.
RON: (after SORTING HAT is finally done with its yearly trick) Mmm, food made by house-elves!
HERMIONE: (drops fork) WHAT?? House-elves, here?? SLAVE LABOR?? How did all my voracious book reading not turn this up? On hunger strike as of now.
DUMBLEDORE: Announcements! First, no Quidditch Cup this year.
ROWLING: See? No Quidditch at Hogwarts, so I HAD to do the World Cup. Otherwise there'd be NO QUIDDITCH IN THE WHOLE BOOK and OMG who could face that?
DUMBLEDORE: Also, this freaky man with scars and a magical eye, eating a sausage on the point of a dagger, is your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mad-Eye Moody.
HARRY: I could swear someone mentioned that name recently.
DUMBLEDORE: Thirdly and most splendiferously, we are hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. Right here at Hogwarts! No one's held the tournament for over a century, but we're all complete experts on how it works. And this time, unlike in the past, there will be NO death toll whatsoever. Really, no one will die, no one at all. (And I quote...) "No champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger." I mean, haha, it's not like we'll have you face fire-breathing dragons, or throw you to the bottom of the lake, or anything. So! Kids from the foreign wizarding schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive soon and we'll all choose school champions, who must be seventeen or older. Absolutely no exceptions.
FRED AND GEORGE: F*** you, Rowling. You only did that because you know either of us would have won this thing easily.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HAGRID'S CHARMING HUT OF HORRORS

HAGRID: Mornin', class! These cute critters killin' and bitin' each other here are Blast-Ended Skrewts, and it's yer homework to make 'em happy.
DRACO: (talking complete sense for once) And why would we want to? What are they for?
HAGRID: (cough) Because...well, never mind, just feed 'em.
Next, RON and HARRY attend Divination, where nothing remarkable happens except TRELAWNEY forecasts doom for HARRY, and RON gets a "Uranus" joke in. After that:
DRACO: Oh spiffing, Ron! Your daddy's in the paper! Rita Skeeter writes that he and Mad-Eye Moody are incompetent dorks. And wow, look at that photo. Yo mama's so fat, the Sorting Hat put her in all FOUR Houses.
HARRY: (forcibly holding RON back) Yeah, Draco? Well, yo mama's so ugly, they call her She Who Must Not Be Naked. C'mon, Ron, let's go.
They turn away, and DRACO shoots a spell at HARRY's back without warning.
MOODY: Dirty low-down coward! Zap. Hah. Now you're a ferret, Malfoy. Whee! Let's bounce the ferret up in the air.
MCGONAGALL: Moody! Not. Cool.
FRED, GEORGE, HARRY, and RON: Disagree. Cool.
HERMIONE: Incidentally, I already gave up my hunger strike in favor of intense library research. If anyone's keeping track.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: MAD-EYE MOODY'S D.A.D.A. CLASS

MOODY: Good morning. (smacks table) CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
CLASS jumps, startled.
MOODY: That's right. Never get too comfortable. Now, despite the wizarding world doin' all kinds of things that one might consider ethically dubious, there are only three curses that are called Unforgivable. Let's do 'em.
MOODY gets out big black spiders.
MOODY: Here's the puppeteer one. Imperio!
SPIDER NO. 1 dances spastically under MOODY's control.
MOODY: Now the torture one. Crucio!
SPIDER NO. 2 curls up and convulses in pain.
MOODY: And of course, death. Avada Kevadra!
SPIDER NO. 3 is dead. Boom.
MOODY: Now, if you're going to ask me why the torture one gets you a life sentence in Azkaban, when the "making someone barf up slugs" one doesn't, the answer is I don't know. Clearly there's no justice in this world.
Later, in the Gryffindor common room:
HERMIONE: Look! I made badges with SPEW on them. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. You know, to free the slaves, the house-elves? Does...anyone care?
RON, HARRY, READERS: No.
HARRY: Ooh! Sirius finally wrote back!
SIRIUS: (by letter) Hey Harry--well, if your scar is hurting, and all these other weird rumors are true, then I'd better come back. Also there's just only so much tequila a person can drink before calling the vacation done. See you soon!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SCENES OF HOGWARTS

MOODY puts STUDENTS under the Imperius curse even though it's illegal (hmm, that's not suspicious or anything) so they can fight it off, and HARRY does remarkably well.
FRED and GEORGE are acting shifty, but really, how is that unusual?
HERMIONE is still all "Does your heart not bleed for the house elves??"
And finally...
BEAUXBATONS KIDS: Nous sommes arrivés, and nous sommes très hot. Eexcept our headmistress; she eez merely très large. We are talking 'Agrid-large.
DURMSTRANG KIDS: Ve haff arrived too [sorry, but I don't think any of us are up to the Bulgarian translation, although Google says it's Пристигнахме], and von of us is VIKTOR KRUM!
RON convulses in fanboy ecstasy and passes out.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: GREAT HALL

DUMBLEDORE: Here it is, friends: the Goblet of Fire. Instead of having responsible adults select the Triwizard Tournament champions, we are leaving it to a magical flaming cup. We can't see any possible problems with that.
KIDS FROM ALL THREE SCHOOLS submit their names on parchment slips. The GOBLET accepts those over seventeen, and sends FRED, GEORGE, and other POSERS flying across the room with backfiring spells sprouting all over them. Brief interim during which this also happens:
HAGRID: My, that Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons is quite the filly. I'm takin' the evenin' off to slick down my hair with axel grease and splash on some centaur cologne, and I'm goin' to visit her.
Yes, the sex is running strong in this book.
DUMBLEDORE: Gather round! The Goblet has made its decision.
GOBLET starts spitting out scraps of parchment, which DUMBLEDORE reads.
DUMBLEDORE: From Durmstrang...Viktor Krum! From Beauxbatons...Fleur Delacour! From Hogwarts...Cedric Diggory! Congratulations to all the--wait, it's spitting out another name. Um. Harry Potter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DUMBLEDORE'S SWANKY CONFERENCE ROOM

KARKAROFF: (i.e., the headmaster of Durmstrang) Unfair! Hogwarts is cheating!
HARRY: Hey, it's cool, I don't even want to be in it. I don't know how that happened. I didn't submit my name, I'm not seventeen...
DUMBLEDORE: Look, guys, the cup said he has to be in the tournament. Nothing we can do. We're totally powerless. We simply have to force a fourteen-year-old to compete in deadly tasks against seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds.
HARRY: Wait, I thought you said they wouldn't be deadly.
DUMBLEDORE: Er, well. Why not go to bed, Harry? Been a busy day.
HARRY stumbles back to Gryffindor Tower, where his ENTIRE HOUSE showers him with cheers and candy and tongue kisses (okay, not so much the kisses).
RON: Except me. I say you suck. "Seeker," are you? More like ATTENTION seeker.
HARRY: Really? You're this stupid?
RON: Bite me.
HARRY: Screw you.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: HERE AND THERE AT HOGWARTS

HERMIONE: Harry, be nice to Ron. He's only jealous because you get all the cool adventures; plus I told him about this dream where you and I were--um, never mind. Hey, you should write to Sirius and update him.
DRACO: (strolling past HERMIONE) Morning, Mudblood!
HARRY slams a spell at him, which hits GOYLE and makes him break out in boils, and MALFOY slams a spell back, which hits HERMIONE and makes her grow gigantic rodent teeth.
SNAPE: (glancing at HERMIONE and being his most jerkfaced ever) I see no difference.
HERMIONE runs off in tears to the hospital wing.
SNAPE: Also, fifty points from Gryffindor, detention for the people I hate, and Goyle gets off scot-free. Isn't it dandy how many torturous spells AREN'T punishable by time in Azkaban?
LUDO BAGMAN: You may remember me as the head of sports or something. I'm also on the Triwizard Tournament judging panel (or something), so I'm hanging around Hogwarts this year. Harry and the other champions, come meet the press.
RITA SKEETER: Harry, dear! I'm the slimy journalist who wrote lies about everyone you like. Pop into a broom closet with me.
HARRY: Sounds a bit pervy and wrong, but okay.
RITA SKEETER: Tell me about your heartbreaking childhood thus far.
HARRY: It's been...fine.
RITA'S QUILL transforms his answer into an emotional outpouring of Danielle Steel prose proportions.
HARRY: Hey!
DUMBLEDORE: Come on out, Harry. Time for the champions to compare wands. Unzip 'em and show 'em, kids.
FLEUR's is rosewood and inflexible and has a veela hair from her grandmother. CEDRIC's is twelve and a quarter inches and he polished it last night. VIKTOR's is rather thicker than usual and quite rigid. (I swear, I am not making any of this up.) Then there's HARRY's, and we're all quite familiar with what his wand can do--but it may surprise us later, sports fans, so stay tuned.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: IN WHICH HARRY DECIDES TO LIVE UNDER THE INVISIBILITY CLOAK FOR A WHILE

HARRY visits Hogsmeade under the cloak, and learns that a) MOODY's magical eye can see through cloaks and other clothing (yeeeeks), and b) HAGRID wants HARRY to come to his cabin at night with the cloak on. HARRY does so, and finds MADAME MAXIME there too.
HAGRID: C'mere, Madame, special surprise for ye.
HARRY sneaks along after them as they venture out past the Forbidden Forest.
HAGRID: There they are! Fifty-foot-high dragons. Ain't they beauties? Yep, this'll be the first task the champions have to face. Gettin' past 'em, or kissin' em on the nose, or somethin'.
HARRY: GAH. (hightails it back to the castle)
SIRIUS'S head is waiting in the fire for him in the Gryffindor common room. Don't be alarmed; it's not a Mafia type of thing. It's just a wizard phone call.
HARRY: Sirius--it's dragons--and ack.
SIRIUS: Hm, dragons. But you know, I'm going to launch into a lot of speculation about Karkaroff and Bertha Jorkins so that we are all suspicious of the red herrings we are supposed to be suspicious of.
HARRY: Thanks. I feel better now.
RON: By the way, I still hate you.
HARRY: Well, I HATE YOU MORE.

CHAPTER TWENTY: HALLWAYS OF HOGWARTS

HARRY: Psst. Cedric. First task is dragons.
CEDRIC: Seriously?
HARRY: Everyone else knows, so you should too.
CEDRIC: I am strangely moved by your kindness. (gives a manly nod and scurries off)
MOODY: Good on ya, Harry. By the way, here's a tip to beat the dragons. What are you good at?
HARRY: Uh...nothing? Also Quidditch?
MOODY: Yes, so to get a broom, you'd use...?
HARRY: Ah ha! That one spell, that makes me get things!
MOODY: Yeah. That. Work on that.
LUDO BAGMAN: Hey champions! I'm the head of--yeah, you remember me this time. It's time for the first task, to celebrate reaching the halfway point in the book (or near enough). So, you each face a dragon, and use your magical wiles to steal its egg. Go!
CEDRIC is first, and walks out to meet his doom--no, sorry, that's later. Walks out to meet his dragon, I should say.
HARRY: The other three are all scheduled before me. Wonder if I can watch?
ROWLING: No. And the readers don't get to watch, either. You're just going to hear the crowd scream, and the announcers, and I'm going to rush through the whole thing and use a lot of ellipses. There--your turn, Harry!
HARRY wobbles out and says "Howdy" to the angriest and ugliest of the dragons (yeah, it breathes fire).
HARRY: Accio Firebolt! Sweet, it worked. And up into the air we go.
ROWLING: Ellipses...so many ellipses...action, then ellipses...then action...and Harry fetches the egg in record time!
BAGMAN: By the way, a hint about your next task is inside the golden egg.
RON meets HARRY back at the Stitching-and-Burn-Treatment Tent.
RON: Wow, mate, someone is definitely trying to kill you in a very roundabout but charismatic way by putting you in this competition. Clearly you didn't put your own name in the goblet. I mean, duh.
HARRY: Brill, mate. We're cool.
HERMIONE: Kiss him! KISS HIM!!!!
HERMIONE bursts into tears, then collapses on the grass. RON and HARRY look at her in bewilderment.
RON: You just never know who's going to turn out to be a slasher.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: HOGWARTS KITCHENS

HARRY opens the golden egg and it only screeches a horrible someone's-torturing-Flipper type of noise, so he hastily closes it again until such time as he figures out what the hell that's supposed to mean.
HERMIONE: Harry, look who it is! I came down to free the house-elves--like the readers, they aren't interested, by the way--and it's Dobby!
DOBBY: Dobby is getting paid now like a proper lower-class citizen!
WINKY: Winky is so ashamed and wishes to die. Also Winky hints at bad secrets in the Crouch household.
RON: And me, I end this chapter on the highest note possible with the line, "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: TRANSFIGURATION CLASS

MCGONAGALL: Gryffindors, the Yule Ball is coming up, and may I remind you that you shall behave like ladies and gentlemen, and there shall be no shenanigans whatsoever involving the punch bowl, and Potter, as a tournament champion, you absolutely have to get a date and attend.
HARRY: WHAT?? Ask out a GIRL??? If I'd known this, I would've let the dragon kill me! Why didn't you let it kill me? WHYYYYY??
He lurks around CHO CHANG a few days without saying anything, and actually rejects a few other girls who ask him to the dance. Sorry, girls. Then finally...
HARRY: Cho, um, youwannagotheballwimme?
CHO: Huh? Oh. No, can't. Going with Cedric.
HARRY: Right. Course you are. Hah. I knew that. I'll just...bye.
RON: Blast it, who can we ask? Who do we know that's a girl?
GINNY: My God, you two are annoying.
RON: Dude. Hermione! You're a girl! So how about it?
HERMIONE: Sod off. I have a date. (she storms away)
RON: Pfft, she's lying. No one else could've noticed she's a girl.
HARRY dejectedly swipes at the sleeve of the nearest female.
HARRY: Parvati, hi. Want to go to the ball?
PARVATI: Uh, okay.
HARRY: Can you get a date for my buddy too?
PARVATI: Already I'm regretting this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: WOOOO!!! YULE BALL!!! HEY, SOME OF US PREFER IT TO QUIDDITCH.

So the Yule Ball is actually ON Christmas, which means most of the older students stay at school the whole winter vacation rather than spending the holidays with their families. Clearly ROWLING is trying to undermine sacred Christian family values. On the other hand, thank goodness something potentially sexy is finally happening on Christmas, which is normally an un-sexy holiday.
RON: I want to die. I hate my dress robes. I couldn't care less about my date.
HARRY: I hear you, mate.
VIKTOR KRUM walks in with some GORGEOUS CHICK on his arm--and hallo, it's HERMIONE! She, like, did something with her hair! And wore a color that suited her! HARRY and RON can't figure out what she did, really, but damn, she's hot now! And that's NOT FAIR if you ask them.
But HERMIONE'S gorgeous new look makes it so even DRACO can't come up with a bad thing to say about her, claims ROWLING. Yeah, right. When you look your absolute best is EXACTLY when your arch-bully says the meanest things about you. Deep breath--okay--back now from middle school; it's all right.
HARRY spends the first half of the dance jealously watching CHO and CEDRIC and ignoring PARVATI. RON spends the first half glaring at HERMIONE and ignoring PADMA, i.e., HIS DATE.
PARVATI: Padma, did you hear? Ron and Harry are writing a book on how to be the LAMEST DATES EVER.
PADMA: Word.
MOODY: Nice socks, Potter! Yeah, I amuse myself by looking through students' clothing. Sleep tight!
PERCY: Mr. Crouch is ill and I haven't technically seen him, but he still considers me his cuddliest employee. Now let me tell you about flying-carpet smuggling!
RON: (to HARRY) Out. Let's get out.
Outside, even though it's December in Scotland and thus probably below freezing, FLEUR is getting indecent in the bushes with her Hogwarts date-boy (ROGER SOMETHINGOROTHER), and HAGRID is cozying up to MADAME MAXIME. RON and HARRY lurk in the shrubbery and overhear:
HAGRID: So, my pretty, tell me a secret...where'd you get them big bones? Giant, right?
MAXIME: Ugh! You SUCK as ze date!
HAGRID: Hey now, I'm half giant meself! No offense meant to ye!
But MAXIME storms off.
RON: For readers, I'll elucidate: giants are nasty murderous types. Sure hope no one else heard Hagrid admit that about himself.
As they walk back indoors, CEDRIC pulls HARRY aside.
CEDRIC: Heya. Take a nice long private bath with your golden egg. Here, I'll give you the password to the prefects' bathroom, where I like to bathe. (wink) Nighty night.
While HARRY ponders whether CEDRIC was hitting on him--I mean, it's been a weird and pervy enough year so far--he walks into the middle of a massive RON/HERMIONE row:
RON: How dare you go with Krum?? How could you? You know how I feel about him! I mean--um, how I...how you...look, just admit you're being a harlot!
HERMIONE: Ron, I'm going to bitchslap you this once, then you're going to settle down, are we clear?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: HAGRID'S HUT

RON: Hey, why isn't Hagrid teaching us today?
DRACO: Let me explain! (pulls out the newspaper) Latest from Rita Skeeter: "Rubeus Hagrid admits he's half giant, which would explain why he enjoys maiming and terrifying students. Why he was ever hired is a mystery. Dumbledore needs to pull his senile head out of his--" Oops, class is starting, bye!
HARRY, HERMIONE, and RON pound on HAGRID's door, but he isn't answering. They storm down to Hogsmeade.
RITA SKEETER: Why, good morning, students.
HERMIONE: Oh, I am going to make you pay, you evil woman.
RITA: Hah. Are you now? Or shall I make YOU pay, my stupid little dear?
HERMIONE: Really? You want to play "Who's smarter?" with ME?
RITA: Let's.
RON: Woohoo! Hermione's furious with someone other than me now!
The kids finally get in to see DEPRESSED HUNGOVER HAGRID, and find DUMBLEDORE there too.
HARRY: Cheer up, Hagrid. We all like you and want you to stay. It doesn't matter what she wrote.
DUMBLEDORE: Indeed. My brother Aberforth was in the papers for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat, but he didn't let it get him down. (I'M COMPLETELY SERIOUS; IT SAYS THAT.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: PREFECTS' BATHROOM

HARRY sneaks in with his golden egg, finds with relief that CEDRIC isn't there (neither is anyone else), and gets naked and hangs out in the pool-sized tub, admiring the interior decorating. Perfumed and colored tap water! Oooh!
MOANING MYRTLE: Hi, Harry.
HARRY: Gah! Naked here.
MOANING MYRTLE: I know. I like spying on kids from inside the pipes.
HARRY: Creepiest pervy encounter yet. Wow.
MOANING MYRTLE: Hey, I have a tip about your egg. Open it underwater. That's what Cedric did. By the way, they are not lying about the "twelve-and-a-quarter inches" bit.
HARRY, hiding under bubbles, opens the egg underwater and its screech resolves into a riddle that essentially says "Merpeople are going to take something important to you hostage and you'll have one hour to get it back before it's gone forever."
HARRY: So I'll have to survive in a cold lake underwater for an hour, then. Yay. Um, see you, Myrtle.
HARRY gets dressed and hurries out under the Invisibility Cloak. While he's noticing that MR. CROUCH's name is showing up in SNAPE's office on the Marauder's Map (is everyone confused enough yet?), he gets his foot stuck in a broken stair. He drops the GOLDEN EGG and it opens.
GOLDEN EGG: SCREEEEEEECH.
FILCH: Peeves!!!
SNAPE: Filch! Someone was just in my office. Not that that's related to the egg, but I'm suspicious.
MOODY: What's all this noise?
SNAPE: Harry Potter! I'm sure Harry Potter was stealing potions from my office!
MOODY: (grinning at HARRY, because he can see through Invisibility Cloaks as well as your underwear) Nah, you're high, Snape. Go to bed.
SNAPE and FILCH, fuming, stomp away.
HARRY: Whew. Thanks, Professor.
MOODY: Sure thing. And this is a dandy map. I'm borrowing it, okay?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT SWIMSUIT COMPETITION

HARRY: Spells to let you survive an hour underwater...you'd think I could find one...just one...
HARRY literally falls asleep in the library with his face in a book.
DOBBY: Wake up, Harry Potter, sir! The task is beginning in ten minutes and your Wheezy is with the merpeople!
HARRY: My WHAT? Oh--Weasley? They took Ron?? But--I don't have a spell--
DOBBY: Eat this before you dive in, sir.
DOBBY hands him a glob of slimy weeds. So, with no other option occurring to him, HARRY runs down to the lake a few seconds before the starting pistol, and eats the weeds. Whew! It works! He grows gills!
Deep underwater, after kicking off some GRINDYLOWS, running into creepy MYRTLE again, and snarling at some grumpy MERPEOPLE, he finds RON, HERMIONE, CHO, and SOME GIRL tied up and magically unconscious. The other CHAMPIONS are nowhere to be seen, and HARRY freaks out and starts trying to save every hostage. CEDRIC finally shows up and takes CHO away, and KRUM finally appears and saves HERMIONE, but HARRY takes it upon himself to haul both RON and the GIRL to the surface.
FLEUR: Oh, merci beaucoup! I got lost, but you saved my sister!
She kisses HARRY.
RON: I helped.
FLEUR kisses RON.
RON: Whee!
HERMIONE: Oh, you noticed SHE was a girl, huh?
HARRY: I'm just glad everyone's alive.
HERMIONE: LOL, Harry, you didn't take the song seriously, did you? They weren't going to let us die after an hour. Did you really think that?
HARRY: ...uh...course not. Ahem.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: GOSSIP GOSSIP EVERYWHERE

RITA SKEETER: (via article in the Witch Weekly) Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's girlfriend, appears to be not so faithful and is giving a helping hand to any Triwizard Tournament champion who wants one, IF you know what I mean.
HERMIONE: (snorts) Aw, that's the best you can do, Skeeter? You poor little cockroach.
SNAPE: (in Potions class) Hey, Potter, check this out: a vial of Veritaserum. Strongest truth serum I can make. Gosh, wouldn't it be interesting if it accidentally dripped into your pumpkin juice sometime? Wonder what you might say?
HARRY ducks his head and behaves, which gives him a chance to overhear this:
KARKAROFF: (bursting into Potions class) Snape, LOOK AT MY ARM. No, I am NOT high. Let me see your arm!
SNAPE: Out. Now.
HARRY: Well, that was odd.
Later, our three KIDS climb up the mountain and finally meet SIRIUS again in person. He happily licks their faces--whoops, I should mention he's in dog form when he does that. He turns back into a guy and they give him a bundle of stolen food from Hogwarts.
SIRIUS: (noshing on goodies) So let's catch up. Crouch, Winky, Moody, Bagman, Death Eaters, Karkaroff, Snape, Bertha Jorkins--I don't know what's going on there, man, but oh my GOD this chicken is good, mmmm.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: BREAKFAST AT HOGWARTS

HERMIONE: (opening mail) So I was talking to Winky again yesterday, and she hinted once more at a dark secret of Mr. Crouch's, and--hey! This is all anonymous hate mail, because of that article Skeeter wrote about my cheatin' heart! And--OW OW OW OW there's a freaking toxin in this one and it's burning my hands and OWWWW.
She rushes off to the hospital wing.
RON: (still eating breakfast) Well, we told her not to tick off Skeeter.
HARRY: Yup.
READERS: Seriously, why are they not calling the wizard cops? Does someone need to mail Hermione ricin or anthrax before they report it?
One evening, LUDO BAGMAN brings the TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENTS outside to gaze upon some small hedges.
BAGMAN: It's going to be a maze, see? It'll be the third task! But not yet; it's got to grow. Come back in like a month.
READERS: Got to hand it to the wizarding world: they managed to invent a sporting event that takes even longer than cricket or golf.
VIKTOR: Harry, may ve haff a private talk about Herminoninnanny?
HARRY: We've never dated. Never gonna. But if you want a shot at her, think about learning to say her name. I hear girls go for that kind of thing.
VIKTOR: Ah good! Tank you. Let's talk sports--vait, who is dat?
MR. CROUCH staggers out of the forest looking like the filthy mumbling guy you avoid at the bus station.
MR. CROUCH: Tell Dumbledore, all my fault, my son, Dark Lord, Bertha Jorkins.
HARRY: Uh, I'll get Dumbledore. Krum, stay with the crazy man.
But when DUMBLEDORE and a bunch of OTHER TEACHERS arrive, VIKTOR is lying there Stunned, and CROUCH is gone.
KARKAROFF: Treachery! You attacked my champion! Hogwarts sucks, and so do you, Dumbledore. Yeah, that's right, I said it.
HAGRID: HULK ANGRY. (pins KARKAROFF to tree)
DUMBLEDORE: Hagrid, DOWN.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: PROBABLY COULD HAVE BEEN CUT

MOODY: Constant vigilance!
SIRIUS: Constant vigilance!
VOLDEMORT: (in a strangely realistic dream HARRY has) Whee, let's torture Wormtail!
HARRY: Ow, my scar!

CHAPTER THIRTY: SNOOPING AROUND DUMBLEDORE'S OFFICE

HARRY: Professor Dumbledore, can I talk to you?
DUMBLEDORE: Sure. Hang out in my office a while alone first, while I chat with Fudge.
HARRY wanders around, poking at dangerously magical things. Eventually, drawn by the shiniest object, he sticks his head into it. Like anyone would. (It's basically a big bowl.) And the world goes flip-de-woo!
HARRY: Whoa! I'm sitting in some kind of dungeon courtroom thing, with wizards all around. Sorry, everyone, didn't mean to...hello? Can anyone see me? Huh, they can't. I get it. This is a scene from the past.
READERS: Some would have assumed "I'm tripping."
But HARRY is right: we're witnessing trials of SUSPECTED DEATH EATERS.
KARKAROFF: I'm guilty, but I'll buy my freedom by giving you the names of other Death Eaters. Here's all kinds of names. One of which is Snape!
DUMBLEDORE: We cleared Snape. He WAS a Darkside fanboy, but he's cool now. Thanks, Karkaroff. Next?
LUDO BAGMAN: Hey mates, sorry I was such a moron. I kind of tripped and fell into the Dark side. It was just lying there. I'm nice, really!
CROUCH: Fine, whatever. Next?
BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR: Dad, no! Please don't send me to prison! Please, Daddy, please!
CROUCH: Guilty. Get out of my sight.
DUMBLEDORE: (present day) Hey, Harry. Ready to climb out of the shiny bowl?
HARRY: Yikes. Hi. What was that?
DUMBLEDORE: A Pensieve. Wild, huh?
HARRY: Well, the reason I came is, I wanted to ask...why is my scar hurting?
DUMBLEDORE: 'Cause Voldemort's getting stronger.
HARRY: Also, if Snape really was a Death Eater, why do you trust him?
DUMBLEDORE: I have a good reason, but I won't tell you what it is. Bye! Good luck with the third task!

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: "IT'LL BE FUN," THEY SAID. "NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG IN A HEDGE MAZE AT NIGHT," THEY SAID.

BAGMAN: Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament! Our four champions will disappear inside the hedge maze and face all kinds of challenges, and the first person to get through it wins. Meanwhile, the audience gets to stare at the outside of a hedge maze for an hour or so. Hmm, we need to invent a magical Jumbotron. Anyway--on your marks, get set, go!
HARRY, CEDRIC, VIKTOR, and FLEUR dash into the hedge maze. HARRY stumbles through a BOGGART posing as a DEMENTOR, a TURNING-YOU-UPSIDE-DOWN SPARKLY CLOUD, and one of HAGRID'S BLAST-ENDED SKREWTS, which is now about fifty meters long. Then...
VIKTOR: Crucio!
CEDRIC: Ahhhh!
HARRY: Stupefy! (VIKTOR falls.) Jeez, I thought Krum was better than that. You okay, Cedric?
CEDRIC: Yep, no biggie. Thanks. Haha, that torture curse is actually a lot less torturous than most of the ones the students chuck at each other around here. Too bad it throws you in Azkaban for life.
HARRY: Thought I heard Fleur scream earlier. Wonder if she's down too.
CEDRIC: Could be. So it's just you and me now.
HARRY and CEDRIC stare at each a second, then tear off in separate directions, hot in the pursuit of personal victory.
SPHINX: Get past me first.
HARRY does.
GIGANTIC SPIDER: And me!
HARRY doesn't quite. The SPIDER is also going after CEDRIC, who has re-arrived. CEDRIC and HARRY knock it out together.
HARRY: There. Take the cup, you win.
CEDRIC: No, man, YOU take the cup.
HARRY: No, man--this is dumb. Let's take the cup together.
CEDRIC: Woooo! Hogwarts for the win!
Together they grab the Triwizard Cup, and WHOOSH. They're gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: GRAVEYARD OF SAINT WHERE THE HELL AM I

They're in a graveyard. Hmm.
CEDRIC: Uh. The cup was a Portkey.
HARRY: Huh. Weird. Is this where the closing ceremonies are being held, or--
WORMTAIL: Hi! Avada Kedavra.
And CEDRIC dies. Everybody say, "Bye, Cedric."
While HARRY processes that, WORMTAIL slams him against a tombstone with TOM RIDDLE engraved on it, ties HARRY up, and drags over a big cauldron.
READERS: Man, I wish Percy were here. He could tell us all about the bottom of that cauldron.
WORMTAIL: Checking my recipe...we put in the Dark Lord...
He puts an UGLY DEMON BABY THING into the cauldron.
WORMTAIL: Some oregano, a bone from this grave, some parsley, my right hand...
WORMTAIL whacks his own right hand off with a dagger. READERS pause to ponder whether it's even remotely possible to chop off your own hand with a single blow of a dagger.
WORMTAIL: Ow ow ow...okay, blood of Harry Potter...
He nicks HARRY, collects some blood, and throws that in the cauldron too.
WORMTAIL: And there we go.
HARRY gasps. VOLDEMORT rises from the cauldron, all big and grown up and ickily naked! WORMTAIL throws a robe around him, and VOLDEMORT does some yoga stretches to limber up. He feels around on his face, then frowns at WORMTAIL.
VOLDEMORT: Seriously, dude, where's my nose?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THE MONOLOGUE YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

VOLDEMORT: Guess what comes next?
HARRY: You kill me?
VOLDEMORT: Well yeah, but FIRST, I deliver a long monologue about my elaborate plot to get you here and bring my body back to life!
HARRY: Nooo! Just kill me, you sick bastard!
VOLDEMORT: Wait, I need a bigger audience.
VOLDEMORT presses the Dark Mark tat on WORMTAIL's arm, and bunches of DEATH EATERS (including DRACO's mommy and daddy) Apparate into the graveyard.
DEATH EATERS: We were all like totally loyal to you the whole time, we swear!
VOLDEMORT: Liars. My feelings are hurt and I'm pouting. I'm going to make you listen to my monologue now. So, you know I've been trying to come back to life properly, but it involved that complicated spell there, and with Dumbledore protecting Harry, it was REALLY HARD to get all the stuff I needed, like Harry's blood. But THIS year, Bertha Jorkins told Wormtail about the Triwizard Tournament, so I stationed a Death Eater at Hogwarts and got him to put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, and then had to make sure he won, because the Triwizard Cup was a Portkey to get here, tonight!
DEATH EATERS: Brilliant, my lord! Totally unnecessarily convoluted, but brilliant!
VOLDEMORT: I know. Thanks. Hey Harry, CRUCIO! Haha!
HARRY: Ow ow ow ow ow.
VOLDEMORT: Actually, know what? I'll let you duel with me properly. We're gentlemen here, after all. (crouches into ninja pose) C'mon, Harry. Let's fight.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

HARRY: Fine. A duel. To the death.
VOLDEMORT: I accept. Although first, to the pain.
HARRY: I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase.
VOLDEMORT: Sure you are. Remember? Crucio!
HARRY: OWWWW. Okay, yes. I do remember.
VOLDEMORT: Imperio! I'm just going to run through all the Unforgivable curses here.
HARRY: Oof...you are...better than me...I admit it...
VOLDEMORT: Then why are you smiling?
HARRY: Because I know something you don't know. I am actually pretty good at throwing off the Imperius curse. (He does so.) Ha!
VOLDEMORT: Amazing. Well, I hate to destroy an artist like yourself, but: Avada Kedavra.
HARRY steels himself for the worst, but instead a strange laser light show starts taking place between his wand and VOLDEMORT's. And then--CEDRIC'S GHOST comes out of VOLDEMORT's wand! And so does FRANK! (You remember Frank.) And--gasp--HARRY'S MOM AND DAD!
HARRY'S MOM: Nice job, honey!
HARRY'S DAD: You go, son! Get him!
CEDRIC: Hey, could you take my body back for my folks?
HARRY: (convulsing with effort of holding freaking-out wand) Sssure...no problem...bye Mom and Dad...
HARRY breaks the crazy wand connection, runs away, and throws himself into a big hug encompassing DEAD CEDRIC and the Cup Portkey. They vanish, leaving VOLDEMORT throwing a hissy fit.
VOLDEMORT: ARRRRGH! Why does Avada Kedavra keep failing on me with Harry? If only there were some other way to kill a person. If only someone had a dagger lying around here or something.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: LET'S PLAY "WHO'S THE DEATH EATER AT HOGWARTS?"

HARRY: Professor Dumbledore, Voldemort's back. He killed Cedric, look.
DUMBLEDORE: Hm, drat. Thought that might happen.
MOODY: Here Albus, let me take Harry into the castle while you deal with the screaming, panicking students and parents. He can tell me about his fight with the Dark Lord.
MOODY brings HARRY into his office.
MOODY: So the Dark Lord's back, you say?
HARRY: Uh-huh. Serious badness. So bad I didn't even notice how you keep saying "Dark Lord" instead of "Voldemort." And so many Death Eaters...he said there was one here...
MOODY: Oh yeah, that'd be me.
HARRY: Huh?
MOODY: Let me give you a monologue.
HARRY: OH GOD NO!!! I can't face another one tonight!!
MOODY: See Harry, it's been me all along. I fired the Dark Mark into the sky at the Quidditch World Cup, eight thousand pages ago. I put your name into the Goblet and made sure you got through all the tasks and won, all so you could touch the Portkey that delivered you to the Dark Lord.
HARRY: Seriously? There were like a hundred easier things you could have turned into a Portkey and gotten me to touch.
DUMBLEDORE: (busting into the room) Stupefy, sucker!
MOODY collapses. SNAPE and MCGONAGALL come in too. A little ransacking reveals a trapdoor, and beneath it is THE REAL MAD-EYE MOODY, unconscious and being kept captive.
DUMBLEDORE: It's all been a Polyjuice Potion ruse, see. I just figured it out. How dense of me. Let's see who he really is.
FAKE MOODY morphs gradually into BARTY CROUCH JR. You remember, from the Pensieve? He was convicted by his dad for being a Death Eater? Well, anyway:
DUMBLEDORE: Drink this Veritaserum.
BARTY CROUCH JR: Okay. Monologue time!
READERS: OH GOD NOOOOO!!
We'll sum up: CROUCH JR was a Death Eater, as we've covered, and did all that stuff he just took credit for as FAKE MOODY. Sometimes WINKY helped. Remember? She was their house-elf...? Oh never mind. We caught the Death Eater at Hogwarts; that's the upshot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: EVERYONE WANTS TO HUG HARRY

SIRIUS: Harry, Harry, I should've been there for you more. Grr, isn't there someone I can bite in the face for you, at least?
HARRY: Thanks, but not really.
He passes out in the hospital wing. When he comes to, CORNELIUS FUDGE is hanging out, arguing with THE STAFF.
FUDGE: Come now, you know I can't go claiming You-Know-Who has returned. Think of the economy.
SNAPE: You blithering fool, even I'M agreeing he has returned. My old tattoo is telling me so.
FUDGE: You're all insane. It's as simple as that.
DUMBLEDORE: Fine. Die stupid.
FUDGE: Thanks for understanding. Oh, here's your gold, Harry. For winning the tournament.
FUDGE plunks down a bag of gold coins and walks out.
HARRY: I don't want it. Cedric should've had it.
HARRY gets teary-eyed. MRS. WEASLEY hugs him.
READERS: (wiping away a tear as well) I didn't even know I LIKED Cedric till now.
Meanwhile, HERMIONE slams something against the windowsill.
HERMIONE: Sorry. I'll explain next chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: THE POIGNANT RIDE HOME, WITH ITS GOLDEN LINING

Before letting the kids go for summer, DUMBLEDORE makes EVERYONE cry again by holding a school-wide moment of silence for CEDRIC.
DUMBLEDORE: ...And don't be idiots, folks. Fight against Voldemort when it comes time to take sides; don't pretend he doesn't exist. Also, please, please don't wear your robes so low they hang below your butt. It's the most idiotic fashion I've seen in my hundred years here. Have a good summer!
HARRY and FRIENDS board the Hogwarts Express. Once they're safe in their compartment, HERMIONE proudly shows HARRY and RON a beetle in a jar.
HERMIONE: It appears I was wrong. Rita Skeeter's a beetle, not a cockroach.
HARRY: Say what?
HERMIONE: Remember when I whacked the windowsill the other day? I was catching her. She was listening in on us again. So I'm explaining to her that I'll let her out, eventually, but she's going to stop writing crap about people or else I turn her in for being an unregistered Animagus.
READERS: Kidnapping and blackmailing someone: also not punishable by time in Azkaban. And thank God for that, am I right?
DRACO, CRABBE, and GOYLE wander in.
DRACO: Voldemort's back, yaaaay! I hope he kills the Mudbloods first! I hope he--
**BOOM!** Not only RON, HARRY, and HERMIONE, but FRED and GEORGE too, have smacked the trio with spells. Our SLYTHERINS are lying twitching, smoking, and morphing into grotesque shapes on the floor.
OUR HEROES, and READERS: Damn, that was satisfying. Again, glad that wasn't illegal.
And just as they're parting ways at King's Cross Station...
HARRY: Here, Fred and George. Take my gold. Start your awesome joke shop.
GEORGE: You mean it? Like you MEAN IT mean it?
HARRY: I completely mean it. The world needs you guys.
FRED: Dude, I will kiss you if you want. And I completely mean that.
HARRY: No need. Just make us laugh.
SLASHERS: Spoilsport.

THE END

DISCLAIMER/CREDITS: The "yo momma" jokes came from the delightful site http://www.yomamajokesgalore.com/harrypotter.html

On soap operas, humor, Dylan Thomas, and "good crap": meet author Lisette Brodey

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:59:33 GMT

It's...Return of the Author Interview! Today I am pleased indeed to welcome Lisette Brodey, whose books exude smart humor and human compassion, just as Lisette does herself. Come in, meet Lisette, and see for yourself:

When did you start writing? What were your first stories like?

I started writing as soon as I learned how. I have always been a writer. My first stories? Well, since you asked, I went to my file cabinet and pulled out a folder with my writings from as early as junior high. There were very few actual stories. Looking through the folder, I tended to write poetry or strange short plays. Here's an excerpt from something I wrote at the age of 14.

BARNABY BULL: Dear Sunset, the other day I missed you. I had kept myself awake one night. Too long. As the new morning approached, I was deep in slumber, too lazy to greet the blazing sun....Ah, Sunset, it was golden rivers than I drank from...but oh would I have rather had no drink at all, and watch you rise and set and fall.

SIR ISSAC: I, dear Sunset, I saw your dripping colors melt behind the mountains. I kissed your brazen pastel shades of pink as swimming rainbows danced by my windows. I, dear Sunset, would never drop to sleep. How careful I am when it comes to you.

Molly, despite my great desire to edit that NOW so that it actually makes sense, I kept it exactly as it was written by 14-year-old me. My mother, a poet, would often read my work and say, "This is crap. But it's good crap. It takes talent to write this." And other times, she just told me she really liked what I had done. I think this might be "good crap." I can't recall.

You have experience writing or working closely with poetry, plays, and films in addition to books. How have those other forms influenced or inspired your novels?

Very interesting question, Molly. I'd love to give a more highbrow answer to this, but the truth is that my years of watching soaps were the best teacher. There are many reasons for that. One, when you watch a soap, you know the characters the way you know your friends and family. So, when a soap character deviates from the person you know them to be, it ruins the story for many viewers. That's not to say that a character can't do something "out of character," as people do that all the time, but I am saying that writers have to be true to the characters they create.

Soap fans always know when a murder mystery is about to happen. It's not very difficult. There's one horrible person in town who just about everyone hates, threatens to kill, and on and on. I spent years analyzing the plots trying to figure out "whodunit." The first thing I would look for were the lines or actions that didn't seem to fit what was going on. Here I learned that every line should advance the character or the plot. When lines appear to have no meaning, they may have the most meaning of all.

And lastly, watching soaps, which have multiple storylines going on all the time, with characters going in and out of each one, probably gave me my love for writing multilayered plot lines.

You know, I never really thought about all of this until you asked the question.

What genre or subject matter would you like to try writing about someday?

I have a passion for psychological thrillers, in both books and film. So I think that would be high on my list.

What genre or subject are you unlikely ever to write about?

I will never write a romance novel. I'll write books with romance in the plots, but I won't write in that genre. I am extraordinarily unlikely to ever write science fiction, fantasy, erotica, steampunk, or westerns.

Tell us what you are working on now.

I'm writing a YA paranormal (no vampires or werewolves!) that takes place in a southern California desert town.

Do people ever assume that, because you're a published writer, you must be rich now?

Oh, yes. I think most writers will agree that those not in the know do not understand how tough it is. People don't necessarily think I'm rich, but most certainly assume I'm earning a whole lot more than I am.

How do you choose settings? Do you ever choose a setting before figuring out the story?

Like most writers, I choose settings that I am familiar with. My first three novels take place in Philadelphia, New York, and an unnamed area of the East Coast. And for the record, the latter would be my YA novel Squalor, New Mexico, which has absolutely nothing to do with New Mexico at all.

If I write about small towns outside big cities, I always make up the names. Why? I don't want people from any small town thinking that I'm pointing fingers or writing about them. And I'm not. Like most writers, what I write is a hybrid of many things.

Which writer, living or dead, would you most like to have lunch with?

Truman Capote.

How do you choose your book titles? Do you frequently end up changing them?

I'm very funny about book titles. I can't stand to write a book if I don't know the title. It's unnerving. Come to think of it, I didn't know the title of Crooked Moon when I started it, but it came to me by Chapter 4, which is when it is also revealed to the reader. For Squalor, New Mexico, it's the only title that made sense, and for Molly Hacker Is Too Picky!, I wanted something lighthearted and fun. Titles are important, and I don't like choosing ones that other books have.

If you could bring one of your characters to life and meet him or her, who would you choose?

This is a difficult question. As you and I have discussed, Molly, I might like to meet Paulie from Crooked Moon. Many readers would like to meet Paulie. And for very different reasons, I'd like to meet Randy from Molly Hacker Is Too Picky!

Would you ever write a nonfiction book, and if so, what would it be about?

Absolutely. It's a boring answer to say that I don't know what it would be about, but I'd love to do it if I found a subject that really interested me.

What elements do you think will always be present in your writing (e.g., humor, relationship issues, family)?

No matter how serious the subject matter, I can't imagine I'll ever write a book without some aspect of humor in it. I remember years ago hearing playwright Neil Simon speak, and he said that tragedy and humor are often very similar. I agree with that. I will also never write a book that does not have strong relationship issues. They may or may not be family-related, but c'mon, people have to have issues, right?

Do you have any writing habits, such as a certain desk you prefer, or background music, or a particular beverage or snack?

I don't like writing with any music at all. The quieter it is, the better. There have been times when I needed to write, and there was a lot of noise coming from outside. In those cases, I put on classical music to drown it out, but silence is golden when writing.

Like many writers, I get into the zone by rereading the previous day's work and doing a bit of editing. Knowing where I was helps me know where I want to go.

What is some of the most meaningful feedback you've gotten from strangers who have read your books?

It means the most to me when people get the characters as they were written. No writer can ever reach everyone, but it is thrilling when I do.

What was the most fun bit of marketing for your books you've ever done?

I'm sorry, Molly; I don't think I heard you correctly. I thought you mentioned marketing and fun in the same sentence. :)

For eight months, I blogged at www.mollyhacker.com as my character. The blogs themselves were great fun, and they're still up there for people to read. But doing that intense kind of promotion took way too much time and effort, and I'll never do it again.

What music do you turn to when you need your mood boosted?

This is actually a very interesting question. I thought about it a lot. I realize that I never play music to boost my mood, but I'll play certain music if I'm already in a good mood. I do play music to calm me, and my number one choice is almost always Marvin Gaye.

Where would you live if money were no object?

For one, I'd probably be bicoastal. I do like being here in Los Angeles, but I love New York (lived there for 10 years) and would love to have a great apartment there. If I had residences in both of these cities, I would always take getaways to many other places all over the world and within the U.S.

Do you have any pets?

Yes, I have a dog and a cat. Both were rescues from the shelter. They get along well, and I love them madly.

What was the best vacation you ever took?

It was probably the trip my friend and I took where we went to Paris, the south of France, Milan, Zermatt, Prague, Dresden, Berlin, Munich, Brussels, Amsterdam, and back to Paris. There were a lot of interesting moments on that trip: standing alone in the bedroom that Anne Frank shared with her sister, Margot; visiting the Checkpoint Charlie museum in Berlin; and riding in the same train car with Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft from Nice to Milan, to name a few.

What's an unusual hobby or skill of yours?

I like to read prose the way Dylan Thomas read it. And I can recite a good deal of Under Milkwood.

Do you have any odd phobias?

Yes. I'm very wary of other people with odd phobias. :)

Who, or what, makes you laugh?

My animals make me laugh every day. I love watching them play together; they always make me smile.

What would you invent to make the world a better place (if science and technology obstacles were no object)?

I would invent a way to make haters spend real time with those that they hate. I think so much of the hate and prejudice in this world is based on ignorance. Nothing is foolproof; even if we get to know people, we may not like them. At the very least, I would like to eradicate hatred based on false assumptions and stereotypes.

What languages do you speak, and which would you like to learn?

I speak a little French, not much. I understand a little Spanish and a little Italian. (And no, I'm not talking about Danny DeVito.) I would like to really learn these languages well.

If you could wave a magic wand and make any improvement to your current home, what would you remodel?

You've heard of self-cleaning ovens; I'd like a self-cleaning home. If I were going to wave a magic wand, I'd have a bigger place with a dream office. Believe me, I've pictured it many times. :)

Thanks again for having me as your guest, Molly. I've had a great time.

And thank you for the delightful answers, Lisette! Readers can find Lisette Brodey at:

Lisette Brodey's page
MollyHacker.com
Lisette on Twitter
Lisette on Facebook
Lisette's books on Goodreads
Lisette's books at Amazon

* * * *

As a postscript on the topic of author interviews, I was sad to learn that author and LJ friend Jennifer Schwabach passed away recently after a long battle with cancer. She was featured in this interview in 2010, and was always a cheerful and bright person to chat with. Fans of sci-fi and fantasy can still find her books at Amazon, and her short stories in various anthologies. I'm glad her words will live on, and am sending my fond thoughts to her family--who, it would seem, are all as sweet as she was.

Some musings on the Goblet of Fire re-read so far

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 17:43:19 GMT

Dumbledore on introducing the Triwizard Tournament: "...this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger." Yeah...I mean, haha, it's not like we'll have you face fire-breathing dragons, or throw you down to the bottom of the lake, or anything.

On pacing: it's striking me how oddly stretched-out the tasks in the Triwizard Tournament are. You select the champions, then a month later you get the first task, then three months later the second task; then three months after that, the third task. No sporting event in the world takes this long--even the Olympics are over in two weeks. Instead, they're all in this for a full school year, and meanwhile, the delegations of kids from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are studying...where? In their ship/caravan? Or are they in Hogwarts classes? One way or another I guess this is a year abroad for them.

As someone who wrestles with plot issues on a daily basis, I clearly recognize this as a method for drawing out the action over the course of a school year in order to end with the Voldemort showdown conveniently right before summer break. But on the surface, it makes me think, "Wow, nice job, wizarding world. You managed to invent a sport that's even slower-paced than cricket or golf."

Notes on the Yule Ball:

PARVATI: Padma, did you hear? Ron and Harry are writing a book on how to be the LAMEST DATES EVER.
PADMA: Word.

Also, Hermione's gorgeous new look makes it so even Draco can't come up with a bad thing to say about her. Yeah, RIGHT. When you look your absolute best is EXACTLY when your arch-bully says the meanest things about you. Deep breath--okay--back now from middle school; it's all right.

On finishing off Avatar: the Last Airbender, and hero arcs in general

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 17:41:00 GMT

Hmm, I ought to find me an Avatar icon. Anyway: about a week ago, our household finished off the series with a marathon viewing of all four Sozin's Comet episodes. Whew. Exhausting but very satisfying.

We discovered many a fine moment previous to that, of course. For example, I must make mention of "The Ember Island Players" episode. HAH!! It's like the condensed parody version of the whole series till now. Love. Fake-Zuko's rippling Revlon hair might've been my favorite, though Chinese-dragon Appa was cool. Also appreciated the remark, "Your Zuko costume's pretty good, but your scar's on the wrong side."

As for coolest moment, the episode with Zuko and Aang meeting the dragons was way up there. Gorgeous.

And most heart-wrenching, going back a bit, was Appa being lost for a while. It's gentle compared to the heart-wrenching moments of LOTR or Buffy, but still, so sad, as anyone who's ever had a pet can attest. However, everything turns out okay, and that's a major piece of what I love about this series. It doesn't put your emotions *too* deeply through any wringers, nor destroy any part of your soul.

Also, the kids loved it--it began affecting them at fundamental levels. The 7-year-old now happily has jasmine tea with me at breakfast. (He says, "Mmm, jasmine tea" in an Uncle Iroh voice.) And in the bath, of course, they waterbend at each other. "Look out, it's Prince Zuko!" *SPLASH*

By far the most compelling character arc is, of course, Zuko's. I have so many warm fuzzies for his relationship with Uncle Iroh alone, but his awkward bonding with the rest of the cast was a total delight too.
(Oh yeah, on the best-of list, possibly the funniest bit of dialogue all series:
Sokka: My first girlfriend turned into the moon.
Zuko: That's rough, buddy.)
...But anyway, Zuko's arc, like Spike's on Buffy & Angel, or even Snape's in Harry Potter (kind of), is interesting because it's the most dramatic change; the most redemptive. But none of those guys are the technical heroes of the stories. Aang, Buffy, and Harry Potter all start out as pretty good people, and despite some dark moments, they never go *too* dark, and therefore their arc is only from "younger and more innocent to older and braver," without the dramatic change that the aforementioned former enemies go through.

So this makes me wonder: can a hero ever be quite as interesting as those secondary characters who go from villain to ally over the course of the epic? Just throwing that out there as something to think about.

I've also caught up now to all available episodes of Downton Abbey and Sherlock, so we can talk spoilers for those if you want. Carson, more tea, please.

Lady Chatterley and Sean Bean

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 18:18:39 GMT

Back in December I read, or technically re-read, Lady Chatterley's Lover. Isn't it nice how this day and age we can say that with no fear of being arrested? In any case, here's my Goodreads review, for starters:

---
Technically a re-read, but I didn't remember much of it from the first time around. This time around I found it very good. Rather than raunchiness, though, sadness, or at least poignancy, breathes through it somehow. I don't know if this is because I was aware (from reading the introduction) that Lawrence was dying of tuberculosis when he wrote it, and had to endure a lot of abuse about the book right up until his death. That certainly could be part of it. It's probably equally likely that it's the setting that makes it sad: post-WWI England was a shattered place, mood-wise. And if that society was messed up about sexual mores too, well, no surprise. Given that supremely messed-up background, the affair-turned-love between Connie and Mellors *is* surprising in its frankness and wildness. But shocking? Scandalous? Hardly, from today's point of view. No one who's read a modern steamy romance novel could think so--and in fact, those of us who write them should consider Lawrence one of our patron saints for paving the way and enduring the firestorm from the prudes.

If the book is occasionally wrongheaded (by modern standards) about some sexual issues--like the brief but derogatory mentions of homosexuality, or the apparent lack of knowledge about the existence of foreplay--well, that's no surprise, given the wrongheaded society it was coming from, which Lawrence illustrates and denigrates so well.

It has a strange repetitive narrative style sometimes, and engages in head-hopping (in terms of POV), and overdoses of dialect within the dialogue, but all of that bothered me much less than it would in most books. As love stories go, or simply as novels go, it worked for me, and I salute its melancholy charm as much as its racier qualities that made it famous.
---

Then, curious to see some movie version of it and how the film medium would handle things, I lately found a copy of the Sean Bean BBC version at the library.

Incidentally, it led to this conversation between myself and husband:
Me: So, I'm watching the Sean Bean version of 'Lady Chatterley.'
Steve: *looks a bit confused*
Me: You know, where Sean Bean is Lady Chatterley's lover.
Steve: Oh. Sean Bean. For some reason I keep mixing up him and Mr. Bean.
Me: Yeah, that wouldn't work as well.
Steve: Yeah.

But as for the Sean Bean version (which is merely called Lady Chatterley)...

Cons:
Awkward expositional dialogue and occasional weird camera zooms/movements.
Cheesy dream sequence. (Oh no, movie, you didn't! Gah. You did.)
Overdramatic background music.
Slightly too much lipstick and eyeliner on m'lady sometimes.
Numerous close-ups of Connie's wedding ring during torrid love scenes with Mellors. Yes, thank you, we did remember she's married.

Pros:
Casting. Joely Richardson makes a sweet, natural, sultry Connie. James Wilby is a perfectly deplorable Sir Clifford (poor James; he's good at those roles, but to some of us he'll always be our sweet Maurice too). And Sean Bean is a pretty hot Mellors. Who knew Boromir had it in him? Bean masters that characteristic Mellors mix of prickly-snarky-cocky and moody-vulnerable-tender. Mellors is written as having a mustache, by the way, and we know Bean can look fine with facial hair; but I approve of the clean shave they gave him for this film. A bit more handsome and less sinister.

Pretty forests and flowers. The lush beauty of nature is an important theme in the book, so it's good they got that right for the film.

They seem to have dropped what's-his-name the depressed Irish writer from her earlier affairs. (Though maybe that was him kissing her hand at a party.) Good. He was a drag and didn't add much to the story.

More of a clear happy ending than the book gave us, and I suppose that's a pro; though for unfaithfulness to the book's melancholy nature, it could be considered a con.

The Avatar and the Goblet of Fire

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 19:00:43 GMT

A few Avatar thoughts, salvaged from Facebook (where they'll become near-impossible to find again after a short while)...

Jan. 30: Avatar episode with the singing nomad hippies, and the cave of love, and Sokka improvising a badger-mole song: funniest episode ever, so far.

Feb. 3: For those with whom I've talked about the Zuko/Katara ship--I saw this online.

Hee. Cute. (Poor Aang.) My compliments to the artist.

Feb. 10: Saw the "Tales of Ba Sing Se" episode of Avatar tonight. Cannot decide what was funnier: Sokka getting involved in a haiku battle, or Zuko's date with Jin. Iroh's story was delightful and awesome, ending on a note of so so sad. Meanwhile, Zuko firebending the lamps into lighted-ness on his date was a surprisingly romantic gesture.

Feb. 12: I was going to say, "Someone should make a T-shirt that says 'Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop, Ba Sing Se,'" but of course someone already did. Sweet. (Scroll down about a third of the way. They also have a "Fly Sky Bison" shirt.)

In other news, I'm embarking on a re-read of Goblet of Fire now, so I can finally parody it. Oh yeah. It has the Quidditch World Cup along with the Goblet of Fire competition. Okay, so maybe this will go in the parody:

ROWLING: Funny story! So, my editors were like, "People are getting a bit tired of Quidditch," and I was like, "How could anyone ever get tired of Quidditch?!" And they were like, "Let's just try some other big competition instead," and I was like, "OR, we could do BOTH." Which is how we ended up with a 734-page-long novel.

Zatara, Kataang?

Sat, 26 Jan 2013 21:31:46 GMT

Almost done with season 1 of Avatar: the Last Airbender, and though I don't know any spoilers from future seasons (LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY), I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that there are a lot of hardcore Zuko/Katara shippers out there. The enemy coupling isn't my usual style, but I see the attraction in this case, partly because Zuko is actually complex and might have an interesting arc by the end (hope so), and partly because Aang is *twelve*. And all these people are cartoons. So that makes the whole shipping thing feel weird to me too. But I'm sure these fics exist.
#scaredtolook

Free: one big box of assorted stars from Goodreads

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 17:14:05 GMT

For the record, I'm now in the midst of stripping the star ratings off the books I've reviewed on Goodreads. I'm going to try out a review-only, no-star-level method. I feel too much importance is placed on the number of stars rather than the words. If someone writes a respectful review saying, "I liked A, B, and C and thought the flaws were X, Y, and Z," and posts that review under a two-star rating, the author will likely be hurt or angry. But the *exact same review* under a four-star rating will make their day. Subjectivity is too much of an issue, to make a long problem short.

So if I've reviewed one of your books, don't worry, I still like it, and the review will still be there. Just not the star rating. And it'll take me a while to work through them all.

Amazon, unfortunately, forces you to pick a star rating (that is, I haven't found a way around it yet), so I'll have to decide how to handle things over there. Hm.

Les Misérables, movie musical, book lover's thoughts

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 06:55:18 GMT

FINALLY, I saw Les Misérables, the latest film installment. It only took this long because I have kids, and arranging the sitter and coaxing my husband to use our precious date night for this, well, these things take time. (Thank you for being coaxed, dear husband.)

Thoughts in random order!

Evidently, when someone says, "Who goes there?", you should not answer, "French revolution." Doesn't go over well.

Extreme close-ups during singing: a few too many of them. It was like Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" video, over and over. Mind you, it was impressive to know we were hearing the actual singing the actors were doing during those takes. And I found it reassuring that famous beautiful people have pores and little brown spots and other skin imperfections too. Thank heavens.

Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway both deserve their Oscar nods. Russell Crowe wasn't as bad as I expected; in fact, he made Javert more endearing than I usually find him. (The bit with the medal he pins on someone else who shall remain spoiler-free-nameless was a very moving addition, though that gesture isn't in the book.)

I love Gavroche, and Daniel Huttlestone did a great job, but must they always have him do an Artful Dodger accent? We are in *France* here, you know. Not London.

You know what I'm going to say I disliked, if you've read my Les Mis thoughts before. Yeah, that's right: the way they condense down the gorgeous, lengthy, super-romantic Cosette-and-Marius relationship from the book into, literally, one day. No one is going to buy it, their being "in love" when they just met a second ago. Why the hell couldn't the filmmakers give them a montage, Marius sneaking in night after night to sit and talk with Cosette in the garden, the way the book has it? In the book, it's Cosette--not Eponine--he's buddies with, Cosette (not Eponine) he sees regularly and talks for hours with and knows really well after a month or so of such meetings. In the book, he talks to Eponine a couple of times. She's obviously into him, and he's awkward about it, and he uses her to get Cosette's address because she's willing, but that's about it. But in the musical, oh no, it isn't enough that they give Eponine the most gorgeous songs; they also have to rob Cosette and Marius of any real, actual interaction that any sane person would feel sympathy for. ARGH. Don't get me started. Whoops, too late.

Give me a second while I calm down from that rant. Seethe. Deep breath. Okay.

Eddie Redmayne at least did save the part of Marius from what all too often becomes blandness and idiocy in many versions. He had the dorky, stammering, happy-in-love thing down, but also showed his noble revolutionary side well.

Favorite surprise-cutie revolutionary: Grantaire, played by George Blagden. Hel-lo! Also, much love for the book-faithful moment in which he opts to die next to Enjolras. (Spoiler there. Sorry. Whatever; no one reads LiveJournal.)

Aaron Tveit as Enjolras was, of course, beautiful. Highly well cast. And I'm so glad they did away with his Adam-Ant gold-barred jacket from the stage version in favor of a basic red one.

Impressive barricade, guys! Coffin in front, looked like. Really sends the message, "Pretty much everyone here is going to die." Oh, but I loved how one of the Friends of the ABC got the tavern mistress's chair by hauling her off it in a big long kiss. There weren't enough smooches in this film, really.

The Thenardiers were almost too lovable. Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter, despite looking ridiculous, pulled off the parts with surprising subtlety and humor, to the degree that I was glad to see them whenever they showed up. That's not the case in the book; the Thenardiers *are* a bit humorous, but the general reaction of most readers is, "OMFG, I hate these people." But that's okay. The movie benefited from the comic relief.

Elephant statue! Another book-faithful detail. Hurrah.

I managed not to cry in the cinema. I'm good at being stoic in public that way. But if I had this at home on DVD, there would have been waterworks.

"Bring Him Home," from the viewpoint of the book reader, doesn't make a lot of sense. Valjean kind of hates Marius at that point, but he is risking his life to save Marius anyway because it would make Cosette happy. This whole "he's like the son I might have known" stuff doesn't really wash for me, this early on in their acquaintance.

That said, 2 hours and 37 minutes is really not enough to do justice to a story of this depth and breadth. The music is wonderful, and the costumes and scenery were breathtaking, and I'm so glad this movie version exists. But someone needs to do a perfect, lengthy miniseries someday. With all the RIGHT Cosette-Marius-Eponine dynamics, dammit. Shoujo Cosette is doing a fairly good job so far actually, but it's, you know, anime. For innocent kids. With way more giggles and fluffy puppies than Victor Hugo intended.

And may I remind you that I summed up The Brick (that is, the unabridged novel version of Les Mis) with my own attempt at condensing things, so you can see what the musical changed, if you wish.

VIVE LA FRANCE. Au revoir.

Sirius, comets, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Edgar Allan Poe. All in one post.

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 22:04:39 GMT

I'm not a good astronomer, only able to pick out a few constellations or individual stars. But Sirius is probably the one star I'd know just by looking at it even without Orion nearby to point the way. All stars twinkle, but Sirius glitters and flashes--red! blue! yellow! white! full spectrum! I stared at it a while last night, and when I pointed it out to my husband and said it could easily be mistaken for a plane due to its brightness and flashiness, he peered at it and said, "No, that *has* to be a plane...doesn't it?"

Then the Pleiades and Jupiter grouped up together in one of the skylights over the bed, so, thank you all around, clear winter skies.

Speaking of astronomy, did you know there are two, yes, TWO possibly brilliant comets coming in 2013? Comet PANSTARRS will be the more modest opening act in March, and the potentially dazzling Comet ISON is due for around November. Keep an eye on astronomy pages for details. (This blog seems dedicated to the comets in particular.)

Speaking of science in general, you could do a lot worse for a new year's resolution than this philosophy from Neil deGrasse Tyson:

Or maybe you just need something faux-literary and silly. Here you go.

Mmm. Recipes.

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 21:13:35 GMT

Thanks for putting up with my random posts all year, folks. If it's any recompense, please treat yourself to this little book of the 12 best recipes our household has discovered lately. Download here:

http://www.mollyringle.com/Recipes2012.docx

Hope you find something you like. And I wish you all a pleasant and relaxing holiday season, regardless of what you eat.

Cheers!

Two more posts in which to win ebooks...

Wed, 12 Dec 2012 17:27:09 GMT

Are you stocking up someone else's e-reader as a gift? Or stocking up your own so you can hole up and read over the holidays instead of mingling with your visiting Great-Aunt Agatha* and her entourage? Then here are the newest places you can win my ebooks just by commenting. This blog tour is nearly wrapped up, and who knows when I'll be crazy enough to do another one (when I'm done with the next book, hopefully), so act now:

On creepy haunted Edinburgh and how I used it in a story

On how love changes young men, or so we wish

*In case you share relatives with Bertie Wooster.

It's December, so win an ebook!

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 18:24:00 GMT

My erratic blog hop (or blog tour, if you prefer) is still underway. So please DO go leave comments at these latest two posts, which puts you into the running for a free ebook! (Either Relatively Honest or What Scotland Taught Me--winner's choice.) Feel free to enter with intent to give the ebook to a friend instead--it's a fun and easy gift. Holidays are a-coming.

Ending in a few days: giveaway, with my post on small presses.

Just up today, with giveaway lasting for the next week: some thoughtful and frivolous interview questions I answered.

Again, do enter, and spread the word if you know YA fans with e-readers among your friends.

Misconceptions about how much perfume I wear

Sun, 25 Nov 2012 16:56:31 GMT

Just to clear the air, so to speak (ha, ha, ha)...

I think there's a misconception out there that we perfume geeks are the kind of people who spritz ourselves with loud fragrance head to toe, knocking passersby unconscious with our high levels of scent. Those people do exist, but we are not *those* people. We usually wear subtle amounts, which you have to be hugging us, or at least leaning over our shoulder at the desk, to notice. And more to the point, we wear it because *we* love the scents--not so much to attract others (though earning compliments is always a plus). My husband, for one, is not a scent hound and hardly notices the differences between all my perfumes. It's probably best that way, as it's easier for me to dabble and not worry about bothering his nose.

But I don't know, maybe I'm mistaken and have warped my own sense of smell in all my perfume toying. Those of you who've met me in real life can tell me: do I waft fragrance like a Macy's cosmetics counter? Or do you barely notice it on me?

Links! So many links!

Sun, 18 Nov 2012 19:09:27 GMT

As the latest stop on my blog tour, here's another giveaway you can enter--this time for either What Scotland Taught Me or Relatively Honest (winner's choice). Even if you have those ebooks already, you can always enter to win a copy for a friend. Because you're nice that way.

Also this past week on the blog hop, I visited Dean Mayes' blog to talk about settings I've used in writing. Dean's new novel is out now, and you can enter to win a copy of that too! I highly recommend doing so. By the way, if you're an avid reader and haven't created a login at Goodreads.com so that you can browse the book giveaway section of the site, you're missing out on serious kid-in-candy-store action.

Norelle Done at the Seattle Wrote blog also invited me on for a quick Q & A about NaNoWriMo. Norelle is a great writer herself, who generously features all the Seattle-area writers she can get a hold of, and I'm honored to be in the same list alongside so many shining stars.

Finally, in chocolate news, we made these Chewy Chocolate-Cinnamon Cookies last night and they're awesome. Easy recipe, too. It's odd; Hershey's chocolate bars/Kisses don't impress me much (even the Special Dark), but their baking cocoa is excellent, and we've loved the cookie and cake recipes we've tried from their kitchen so far. They must know their stuff, so I wish they'd create some higher-quality eating chocolate for us fans.

Gifts of the Peramangk - go ahead, add it to your "to read" shelf now

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 22:08:57 GMT

Earlier this year, author Dean Mayes emailed me to ask if I'd be willing to read the unfinished rough draft of his latest novel and give him my honest feedback. I said I'd love to, of course. Dean and I share a publisher (Central Avenue Publishing), and have enjoyed each other's work so far. He said lovely things about my What Scotland Taught Me, and his first book, The Hambledown Dream, impressed me a great deal--it's like a deeper, grittier, more paranormal, and much more moving Sleepless in Seattle. Plus it's set (mostly) in Australia, which is where Dean is from, and I found that refreshing and different, having never been to Australia nor read very much about it.

And when I opened the rough draft file of Gifts of the Peramangk that Dean emailed to me, I found it dealing even more deeply with Australia: namely, some of the darker moments in its history, and in its present too.

It was unfinished, yes, and being a rough draft it had some typos and inconsistencies ("Wait, Dean, is she his mother or his mother-in-law?"). But I could see right away that at its heart was what makes for a powerful novel: the courage to take on difficult (even horrifying) social issues, and the sympathy to show those issues through the eyes of vulnerable characters that we immediately resonate with.

Even the rough draft put tears in my eyes, and now that the book is all polished up and properly published, I still feel those emotions when I leaf through its pretty pages.

Below is my official review, and do go check out Dean's work!

GIFTS OF THE PERAMANGK
by Dean Mayes

This novel moved me to tears more than once, and made me want to cheer by the end. Dean Mayes illustrates the heart-stopping cruelty of racism, and turns it into an inspiring story of humans going out of their way to care for each other. Music is a character of its own in this story: it crosses all boundaries and heals several wounds (if not quite all).

Virginia, one of the "stolen children" of the Aboriginal Australians in the mid 20th century, was the most heartbreaking character. It's shocking to know this kind of thing actually happened, ripping apart families and resulting in horrible abuse. But even she finds a source of kindness and hope, in the form of a good-hearted woman who teaches her to play violin.

Fast forward half a century, and we find that Ruby, Virginia's modern-day granddaughter, has inherited the same prodigious talent, which might pull her up from the poverty and violence that besiege her own family life. All the characters end up displaying moments of startling bravery that give me goosebumps just thinking about them. These moments take place in settings as different as held-up convenience stores and concert halls--you never know when a person might decide to step up and change his or her life.

It's the kind of book that makes you want to become a better human. I hope they have high school students read it in social studies or history in future. The lesson would actually stick with them for once.

Oh, and for fans of The Hambledown Dream, there is a very cool tie-in, later in the book, in which we get to revisit a few of those wonderful characters too. But Peramangk still makes perfect sense even if you haven't read Hambledown. (Though you should!)

The Hobbit audio: it is here!

Wed, 31 Oct 2012 02:33:10 GMT

34 wonderful voices from awesome people all over the world, coming together in one file to read a crazy dragon attack scene from a little book called The Hobbit - it has finally come together and is ready as my Halloween present to the world.

Listen here:

http://mollyringle.com/audio/halloweenhobbit.mp3

And read along below to see who our courageous readers are and which lines they are rocking. Thank you so much, all my lovely friends, family, and mysterious-but-so-cool volunteers! And special thanks to composer Michael Gordon Shapiro (also one of the readers) for letting me use his beautiful music in the background.

Happy Halloween!

TRANSCRIPT:

Toby: The Hobbit.

Molly: By J.R.R. Tolkien. This section is from Chapter Twenty-Two, "Inside Information."

Kevin: The dwarves were still passing the cup from hand to hand and talking delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up its mind to start eruptions once again.

Shay: The door behind them was pulled nearly to, and blocked from closing with a stone, but up the long tunnel came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble.

Phoenyx: Then the dwarves forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with.

Paul: It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception.

Peggy: He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking.

Zac: There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole?

Katy: He had never felt quite happy about it, though it was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion and wondered why he had never blocked it up.

Ben: Of late he had half fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound from far above that came down through it to his lair.

Amanda: He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup!

Rich: Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain!

Michael: His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain-roots.

Shmuel: He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate.

Lily: To hunt the whole mountain till he had caught the thief and had torn and trampled him was his one thought.

Kris: He issued from the Gate, the waters rose in fierce whistling steam, and up he soared blazing into the air and settled on the mountain-top in a spout of green and scarlet flame.

Michelle: The dwarves heard the awful rumour of his flight, and they crouched against the walls of the grassy terrace cringing under boulders, hoping somehow to escape the frightful eyes of the hunting dragon.

Justin: There they would have all been killed, if it had not been for Bilbo once again. "Quick! Quick!" he gasped. "The door! The tunnel! It's no good here."

Andrew: Roused by these words they were just about to creep inside the tunnel when Bifur gave a cry: "My cousins! Bombur and Bofur - we have forgotten them, they are down in the valley!"
"They will be slain, and all our ponies too, and all our stores lost," moaned the others. "We can do nothing."

Dougie: "Nonsense!" said Thorin, recovering his dignity. "We cannot leave them. Get inside, Mr. Baggins and Balin, and you two Fili and Kili--the dragon shan't have all of us. Now you others, where are the ropes? Be quick!"

Beth: Those were perhaps the worst moments they had been through yet. The horrible sounds of Smaug's anger were echoing in the stony hollows far above;

Molly: at any moment he might come blazing down or fly whirling round and find them there, near the perilous cliff's edge hauling madly on the ropes.

Carina: Up came Bombur, puffing and blowing while the ropes creaked, and still all was safe. Up came some tools and bundles of stores, and then danger was upon them.

tallfemalemanta (LJ): A whirring noise was heard. A red light touched the points of standing rocks. The dragon came.

Lynn: They had barely time to fly back to the tunnel, pulling and dragging in their bundles, when Smaug came hurtling from the North, licking the mountain-sides with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind.

Joan: His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove in through the crack they had left and scorched them as they lay hid.

Cara: Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell as he passed again. The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off.

Runefurb: The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone.
"That'll be the end of our poor beasts!" said Thorin. "Nothing can escape Smaug once he sees it.

Anka: Here we are and here we shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back to the river with Smaug on the watch!"

Judith: It was not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and there they lay and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came pale through the crack of the door.

Jed: Every now and again through the night they could hear the roar of the flying dragon grow and then pass and fade, as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides.

Jos: He guessed from the ponies, and from the traces of the camps he had discovered, that men had come up from the river and the lake and had scaled the mountain-side from the valley where the ponies had been standing; but the door withstood his searching eye, and the little high-walled bay had kept out his fiercest flames.

Frank: Long he had hunted in vain till the dawn chilled his wrath and he went back to his golden couch to sleep - and to gather new strength.

Kate: He would not forget or forgive the theft, not if a thousand years turned him to smouldering stone, but he could afford to wait.

Steve: Slow and silent he crept back to his lair and half closed his eyes.

Perfume reviews of this quarter so far

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 01:47:01 GMT

In the company of my lovely young cousin Sally ("young" for me now includes people in their 20s), I recently procured a bunch of samples from Blackbird Apothecary here in Seattle. Following are my notes upon them all, should you be curious.

Montale White Aoud: When I see "aoud" (or "oud" as it's often spelled), I expect spices and exotic woodsiness. Therefore upon spraying this one on, without having read anything about the notes, I went, "Whoa! Rose! Didn't expect that." It is however a Halloweenish, exotic rose--some eerie darkness and plenty of spiciness under it. Reminds me of something Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab would create. Am not sure yet I'd go for a full bottle, but I'm enjoying wearing the sample.

Montale Full Incense: Yep, full Catholic-mass incense. Almost identical to Comme des Garçons Incense Avignon--I even put them each on, one on each arm, and tried them side by side, and still could barely tell a difference. Which is to say, I love them both and will probably have to decide which one to get a full bottle of, one of these days. I do get the feeling Full Incense lasts longer and has more "throw," while Avignon costs less (accordingly, perhaps). It's a tough choice.

Comme des Garçons Play Green: Supposedly it's got all kinds of "green" notes such as basil, lime, juniper, and more, but I get almost totally spearmint and vetiver. And it's a pretty good mix actually. The vetiver doesn't go that strange burnt-firework-smoke place on me that vetiver sometimes does; the mint keeps it in check and makes it fresh. Meanwhile, the vetiver does deepen and darken the mint enough that it's more mysterious and interesting than simply "summer and gum." Really good for when I'm in a mint mood.

Blood Concept AB: Hmm. There's a freshness throughout which is interesting and appealing. At the beginning I caught a decent apricot-like smell, and later on hints of an incense-like smell, both of which were surprising. But overall I couldn't shake the cool/metallic note that dominated, and made me think I'd probably not wear this on a regular basis.

Comme des Garçons Incense Ouarzazate: From its notes and description I ought to love it, but...I don't. It doesn't come across as authentic enough. It reminds me of things like those berry-scented cheap incenses that don't actually smell like berries, or "sandalwood"-scented soaps that don't actually smell like sandalwood. If your chemistry mixes with it better than mine, I can see how it'd be mystical and exotic, but it isn't mixing with mine. I do love Incense Avignon, though, and want to try the others in the Incense series to see how they compare.

Comme des Garçons Red Sequoia: An initial blast of hairspray and Sharpie marker settles into rather pleasant fresh-cut woods. But the cosmetic sweetness sticks around too much for me, making it feel false rather than natural. I do love my cedar scents, but on this I'll pass.

Meanwhile, I also obtained these two from L'Occitane's online site:

L'Occitane Cedar (labelled Cèdre de l'Atlas on the bottle): As befits its very green-dyed juice, this scent is as green as cedar can be and still be called cedar. It's like the whole living tree, boughs and all, with some of the surrounding green forest too, rather than the dry wood chips or pencil shavings you may expect from a cedar. It reminds me almost of Diptyque Philosykos, another full-tree perfume, though that one is the full fig tree experience while this is the full cedar tree. In any case, I love cedar whether dry or green, and this is a lovely perfume. Easy to wear for either men or women, and fresh while still being woody and sexy.

L'Occitane Labdanum (Labdanum de Seville, on the bottle): I love the rockrose/cistus shrub's scent, which is called labdanum in the perfume world, and I had to buy this after smelling a friend's bottle of it. It doesn't actually resemble the shrub too closely, but it *feels* similar to the scent wafting off a rockrose's sticky leaves: resinous, warm, dry, and sweet, all in an attractive balance. As with the other L'Occitane scents I've smelled so far, it's very approachable and wearable, not too crazy or daring. But it's pretty enough that people have complimented me while I'm wearing it. A keeper.

Three items on the agenda

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 00:06:37 GMT

Item the first: If you've signed up to read Hobbit lines for the Halloween audio project, here's your first reminder to record them and send them in. I've gotten a handful so far and am looking forward to stringing the whole thing together.

Item the second: Hey look! I got featured as an "author we love"! Fred LeBaron, who put together this little tribute, is a librarian (and dad) who stumbled upon my books a year or two ago, and decided he liked them. In our correspondence since, he has also proved to be one of the nicest people who ever existed. Thank you, Fred! It's not every day I get called "smexy." (But I hope it will be from now on.)

Item the third: I finished reading the Hunger Games trilogy. They were very well done, but I think I will *not* be writing parodies of books 2 and 3, because then I'd have to spend more time in that grim, grim, grim world. Here are the reviews I left on Goodreads:

Catching Fire: 4.5 stars, that half-star mainly only taken off because this world is so dark and upsetting, I can't entirely say I'd read this for fun. Still, it was so compelling, very much a page-turner, that I do give it more or less full marks. The love triangle actually is believable--either Gale or Peeta would be a decent match for Katniss. And boy do I love Finnick so far. Yum. Way to end on a cliffhanger! Ack. Guess the third book is next on the list, then.

Mockingjay: 4 stars. Just finished it, and my immediate, emotionally drained reaction is, "Well, wasn't THAT the most depressing happy ending ever."

Collins is still a very compelling writer here, and the story put tears in my eyes many times, as with the other volumes. But by now everyone just feels so *damaged*. I suppose I was wishing for a stronger feeling of hope by the end. I see how that isn't realistic--Panem wouldn't inspire hope in anyone sane. So maybe that's my beef with the series as a whole: grim grim grim. Too grim. The Hunger Games = war, and war = horror, and no society should do either. Yes, we got that. Loud and clear.

Similarly, I wanted the legendary District 13 to be more interesting, more unusual. Instead it was more of the same. Bland, humorless. No fun. That's Panem for you: no fun.

I make it sound like I disliked the book. I didn't. Things were tied up nicely, and there was plenty of excitement, and even some romantic moments. But maybe three volumes of this is too much for a sensitive humor-loving temperament like mine.

Or maybe I'm just unhappy about who she killed off in this one. (There are at least two that make me particularly sad, and you can guess which.)

Meeting adjourned. We'll bring cookies next time.

The Hobbit for Halloween: signup!

Wed, 03 Oct 2012 23:40:24 GMT

Happy October, everyone!

Today I'm extending an invitation to you all: read aloud a few lines from The Hobbit for the world to enjoy. All ages, voices, and accents welcome. It'll be a Halloween audio project like the ones we've done before--click here and scroll down for examples, which you can listen to as you wish. (I re-listened to them lately, and they are so cool.)

As you can see on that page, in past years our brave band of volunteers has read aloud from Poe's "The Raven," Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," and Stoker's Dracula. With the first film installment of The Hobbit coming up this December, I thought our 2012 Halloween selection could be a spooky piece from Tolkien's novel. Likely it will be about Smaug, the dragon, roaring out of his mountain and torching everything with intent to kill, but excerpt selection may depend on final number of volunteers.

So please do volunteer! All you need is a voice and a way to record the lines and send them to me. Your part will be short and manageable, probably only a sentence or two. We love including kids, grandparents, roommates, whoever you've got around. Don't worry about the quality of your voice or accent. I'll let you in on a secret: nearly everyone dislikes their own voice and/or accent. What makes these projects cool is the variety of voices coming together on one literary passage.

Simply comment here (or email me) with the number of volunteers your household is providing, and I'll get you on the list and send you your lines soon. Signup deadline is one week from today: October 10. And obviously I'd like the lines recorded before Halloween (Oct. 31).

Thank you, and I'm looking forward to hearing what you've got!

Hey YA heroes: it's okay to lust. Try it sometime.

Sun, 30 Sep 2012 18:09:26 GMT

I have said this before, but once again, I am tired of the way teenage girls are not supposed to show sexual desire in, like, nearly all of bestselling YA literature. Even in the Hunger Games, which otherwise I quite admire, Katniss only barely starts noticing, after MONTHS of kissing Peeta, that, huh, it's occasionally *fun* to kiss him. And of course (SPOILERS, HI) a certain pregnancy rumor has to go hand-in-hand with a marriage rumor--because a heroic female would never have sex before marriage, even in a world where tributes stroll around naked to please the crowd.

Authors and prudish Americans at large, you are NOT doing teenage girls any favors by holding up only the chaste young women as the role models. You are indirectly (and sometimes directly) suggesting that all sexual feelings are to be suppressed and are something to be ashamed of, and that a "good" girl doesn't go beyond kissing AT ALL until after marriage. (I suppose you say the same to boys, but with much less force, because hey, boys do what they're going to do, right?) You are only giving our young women complexes, far more than you're giving them valuable role models. They're going to have those feelings whether you discourage them or not.

All I can do is rant occasionally, and of course write my own books in which teens find healthy and relatively safe ways to enjoy each other sans clothing. Which I shall keep doing. So there.

The Hobbit for Halloween?

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 20:58:06 GMT

I'm considering another Halloween literature read-aloud (see 2010's Project Dracula for example). Maybe in honor of the Hobbit movie coming out soon, we could use a spooky section from that. What's the most Halloweenish part? Bunch o' giant spiders? Smaug? Other? Also, would you guys be up for reading parts and actually recording them on time?

If so: yay! Official sign-up and assignment of lines to follow.

Fandom-a-go-go

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 20:50:28 GMT

Good couple of days for my fandoms lately.

We have of course the newer, longer Hobbit trailer...

...in which I found myself unexpectedly thinking, "Dang, there are some hot dwarves in that bunch." (Particularly Kili, though Thorin is handsome as well.) If it looks as though we're in for some broad, slightly dumb humor--well, let's be fair; that was kind of canon for The Hobbit as a novel. Drunk carousing elves and plate-chucking dwarves are part of what Tolkien gave us to work with. Can't expect Peter Jackson to just leave that lying on the table, can you?

Incidentally, as serai1 and I were discussing yesterday, Martin Freeman looks perfect as Bilbo, partially because he's already proven himself a great Arthur Dent--and, if we think about it, Arthur Dent kind of is Bilbo. They're both grumpy homebodies hauled at great reluctance from their houses to go on a grand perilous adventure, and spend most of the time wishing they had their tea. Or handkerchiefs. Hey, I can completely relate.

Switching gears, we also got an extended preview/trailer/thing for the new Les Misérables:

The more I see of it, the more I dare think they're getting Hugo's story as right as they can. They're adding book-faithful details that weren't in the stage show, such as the elephant statue inside which Gavroche sleeps. And the cast's voices sound awesome so far.

But if that's too heart-wrenching for you, and you want something funny, enjoy Neil Patrick Harris and Jason Segel breaking into an impromptu version of Javert and Valjean's confrontation song:

I LOL'd. Now I want Neil Patrick Harris to be in a production of Les Mis. He'd be a great Javert, but honestly he could be any part he wanted. Enjolras, Fantine, Eponine--whatever. He'd rock it.

Gross.

Wed, 12 Sep 2012 00:23:00 GMT

Grossest smell of entire week: I hosed out the yard waste cart today. Here in Seattle we get to throw food scraps into the yard waste as well, and we haven't cleaned our bin all summer, so you can imagine the grossness. There was this *sludge* formed at the bottom, which gave off noxious gases as I hosed it out and dumped it on the garden. The cart and the whole yard smelled like the stinkiest of garbage trucks.

So--scent therapy. After burying the sludge in dirt, I threw handfuls of fragrant plants into the yard waste cart: rosemary, lavender, thyme, sweet woodruff. Put my clothes in the wash and had a shower with lemon, bergamot, and grapefruit essential oils sprinkled in the tub, and peppermint soap to wash up with. May have to follow up with a spritz of something clean like L'Eau de L'Artisan.

So. Yes. May your day not involve anything as gross.