"No, they came pre-smoked"

My roommates are having a murder mystery party and my role is the writer, H. Christine Anderson.

I'm basing my character on the writer, Karen Eiffel, from the movie Stranger Than Fiction, and my performance will surely be fantastically depressing ("I don't need a nicotine patch, Penny. I smoke cigarettes.").

Anyways.

The issue came up that I need* cigarettes. My roommates asked me, when I told them that I need cigarettes to really access my character, if I was really going to buy real cigarettes...no comment on whether or not I was actually considering it.

*"I don't need a museum. I need the infirm."

Good point.

So, does anyone know if fake/theatrical/prop cigarettes exist and if so, where I can get some?

Be aware that any and all information which leads to the acquisition of said objects will be rewarded by me doing a fabulous impression of Ms. Eiffel/Emma Thompson putting out her cigarettes in a kleenex she has spit in.

And possibly imitations of all her crazy death imaginings*. My death scenes will be the life of the party. Bad pun unfortunately intended.

*"I'm not in the business of saving lives, in fact just the opposite."

Blame it lack of sleep. I usually do.

K. so just let me know where I can buy cigarettes. Thanks.

Kay Eiffel: [narrating] This is a story about a man named Harold Crick and his wristwatch. Harold Crick was a man of infinite numbers, endless calculations, and remarkably few words. And his wristwatch said even less. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would brush each of his thirty-two teeth seventy-six times. Thirty-eight times back and forth, thirty-eight times up and down. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would tie his tie in a single Windsor knot instead of the double, thereby saving up to forty-three seconds. His wristwatch thought the single Windsor made his neck look fat, but said nothing.

Printz of Literature

I love young adult literature. I do, I do.

Libba Bray, author of the A Great and Terrible Beauty trilogy and Going Bovine, is a funny lady. I read her GTB trilogy, and really liked it. It's dark. There are themes not suited for middle grade readers, IMO, but rather for the namesake of the genre, the young adult. It was well-written as well, something I sure do like. As I do with all the books I like, I looked her up on the internet and discovered her blog, and the fact that Libba Bray is hysterically funny and insightful. Much reading hilarity ensued.

When I came back from my 18-month world hiatus, her new book Going Bovine was on my list of books to read. It took me a while to get to it, but this summer I checked it out from ye olde Harold B. Lee library. On the cover it had a shiny gold star that said PRINTZ on it. I knew what that meant.

The Michael L. Printz Award for excellence in young adult literature is an award not nearly as old as the Newberry, but steadily making its way up in prestige. From what I've observed, it seems that the Printz award singles out titles that are well-written, mature, contemporary, and edgy (in comparison with the Newberry medal).

So I opened the book and began to read. It was dark. The hero was unlikable. The themes heavy, pessimistic. The writing was brilliant (I know it sounds trite, but it's true!).

I could only read the first third. I skimmed the rest. I wasn't brave enough to read that book. Me, a 23-year-old returned missionary who's faced down some pretty crazy stuff, could not finish the book.

Going Bovine looks at death in the eyes and spits. It looks at modern society and spits. It looks at adolescence and says, "Yeah, it really does suck." And then it adds in a bunch of string theory, a punk Angel named Dulcie, a video gaming dwarf named Gonzo, a garden gnome who just happens to be a Norse God, and combines it all in a Don Quixotan road trip. It's a narrative that gambles. And wins big. Which explains why one day soon, when I've found the courage, I will finish reading it.

The real point of this post, though, is to share a link to Libba Bray's live journal, where I hope you will follow the link to the video of LB's acceptance speech at the Printz award ceremony. It's 30 minutes long and it is both side-achingly funny and a work of art in and of itself. I know that there's some swearing, including an F-bomb, so don't watch if that offends you. I hope it won't stop you though, because the speech is seriously awesome. Go watch it and then think about it.

I can tell you now that you'll want to read the book after listening. You'll want to read lots and lots of YA lit. If you're like me, you'll even want to start writing all those ideas in your head. Ms. Bray is truly inspiring.

Enjoy the video!

Here's the link and I hope it works: Processing the Printz Experience

Dichotomy of Scary, The Myth of Poe

It's been said, more than a few times, that I'm scary. Some of you can believe it, some of you can't.

This semester, Fall 2010, I'm taking an entire course on Edgar Allan Poe, the man, the mystery, the murders....ahahahahah(maniacal laughter)!

I had no idea what I'd signed up for (blond moment) because the class is called "American Authors." My section, however, is devoted to Poe. I never thought I'd study so much Poe in my entire life. The best part is being able to say "Poe" repetitiously. I lurve the sound it makes...po, po, po, po. Anyhoo, I never loved Poe, and I still don't, but I'm learning to appreciate him.

Even though he's not my favorite, I must say that the man is seriously misrepresented. 11th grade, Honors English: the teacher told us that Edgar Allan Poe died drunk in a ditch, being the hard partying type. Reality: He was found in a ditch, but he had died from a mystery ailment (one theory is that in addition to being ill, he was kidnapped by a politican's thugs, a common practice during election periods of the day, and died from exposure). Although Poe was indeed a larger-than-life figure, he wasn't the deranged man the myth of Poe makes him out to be.

But where did his reputation come from? Simply put Mr. Backstabber (whose name I forget)was a friend of Poe's whom Poe asked to write a biography. After Poe's death, the man did indeed write the biography, but chose to act out revenge in the literary form, leading to Poe's reputation.

Back to the first statement. Some people think I'm scary. Why? I have my theories.

The important thing is that I'm not scary. I am not Katherine from Taming of the Shrew. I am not Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. I am not Miss Havisham. I am not Sarah Palin (or Hillary Clinton). I am not the mousy librarian who shushes you every time you make a peep. I am not your mother.

I am me.

That being said, I have my faults. Who doesn't? I have a propensity to be very polar in my personality. I'm hot and cold, quiet and loud, liberal and conservative, free and contained, idealistic and realisitc. I can see how this causes confusion in people. Perhaps some individuals need simplicity and decide to make me one or the other extreme. The result is problematic.

There is a very decided scary element to my personality. For example, stress me out and then do something really stupid, and I'll probably say something. Or offend my sense of what is right and good, and I'll probably say something. If we get into an argument, debate, or conversation, you'd better believe that I won't agree with everything you say, and deal with it. Girl has an opinion, what now?

Now the predicament. I feel that I am not scary, because I am the person I define myself to be. I choose. And I choose not to be scary. The end. But life doesn't really work that way, does it?

Others' opinions of me do matter. They do. We live in a society where other people's acceptance or rejection of an individual almost completely defines them. If enough people think I'm scary, then I am.

I've had many conversations with trusted friends and family about this. The consensus seems to be that I can be myself, but perhaps I should temper a few of my tendencies: 1) Be nice to boys (apparently I'm harder on them than girls, which I can see is probably true) and 2) Give people the benefit of the doubt.

This week has turned into being gender neutral in my kindness and giving people the benefit of the doubt. I must say that it makes for a happier, calmer me. Experiment with "benefit of the doubt" receives two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Conclusion: I am who I define myself to be, edited a little by trusted editors. I'm okay with that.

But please, no one expect me to become voiceless in a Don Quixotan quest to make everyone around me feel all puppies, roses, and glittery happiness.

Because I am scary (and simultaneously NOT scary), I understand Poe. I really do. I understand, as he did, that in each one of us there are several possibilities, several points in our life where we change who we are, and what we do. I understand that we cannot let others define us, but we must work with the definitions they give anyway. Me and Poe, we're tight like that.