Why, hello BERLIN!

I'll be back posting late next week, probably after my first day of work at the new job!

Meanwhile, enjoy a Brandenburger Tor pic.

*happy sigh*

Ode to Phineas Moore

When I was little, going out to my grandparents in the middle of the Texas panhandle was a chore. They were good honest people but the library was always closed and it was always just a little boring. It was church and sitting around. Le sigh.

Usually once a visit we went to my grandpa's sister's house. She never had kids, my Aunt Elmer, and her and her husband Uncle P would keep us all in stitches narrating supposedly true stories of things my mom and her brother did when they were little. We didn't believe them, not one bit, but it was always such a nice change to see how Grandma and Grandpa interacted with them. Just being people, normal people, not a Grandma and a Granddad but people you could like to hang out with, even if you were related to them.

As I got older, I really got into the idea of visiting my grandparents and Uncle P and Aunt Elmer. I enjoyed it. They were all so darn feisty. Uncle P always had some chocolate or fizzy drink hidden somewhere for us, and they always had a little ankle-biting dog that would crack me up as it tried to bite my brother: first Walter, then Bitsie. (They were smart dogs). They were all so short, it was like Big Jen In The Land Of The Midgets.

Uncle P died today.

He was the last of those I remember there in the panhandle. We saw him last year, when we were in the US visiting, and I had a chance since to connect and talk to him over the phone. He never really understood the whole "Germany" thing, but he was consistently awesome, and feisty up til the end.

This is when people start to feel old, I think, when their loved ones die. I just feel like my heart has been broken into pieces. I am so sad.

RIP, Uncle P. I hope to see you around.

Phineas Moore

16.Sept.1914 - 23.June.2009

I'm still here!

Just greatly reduced.

The stress of work and the move combined gave me some lovely infections in my head as well as a new friend - tinnitus. This is not fun, and so I'm listening to a lot of music and doing lotsa meditation until it gets itself sorted.

All the packing is done, I'm not really writing at the moment thought, just shaking my head like a horse that has flies. This is uncomfortable.

End of this week we move, and I'll check in shortly before that. If I can lose this damn RINGING IN MAH EERZ.

I'll be back...

...in a couple weeks. After we get this move done. And last days at work finalized. And all that.

(And the frakkin' tuna found.)

And thus begins the sticky.

Guys, we've been packing since yesterday and time is tight. How do we have so much crap?

I'll talk atcha later.

XOXOX from me.

Sekrit #2 : After-agent angst

Or, as I'm wont to call it, 'AAA, dammit.'

What exactly is this phenomenon? Let me illustrate.

You've done your homework, written your query, decided on an agent and you're subbing. This is exceptionally good, no? Farther than many you know. So you try to keep your trap shut and think happy thoughts -

- for the *first five days*

Then angst starts to set in. Your agent is super cool - she/he checks up on you, RTs you (if appropriate), is so fantastically supportive...it's just insane. And then. AND THEN.

The guilt slips in.

with every next email you send out you proceed to become more and more glum. I mean look, your agent is busting her/his rear to get your book published, you're working on the next one, but whenever you email them, you're taking up their valuable time. And you don't have anything to show them for it. You're not making them money, right now, you're a hindrance, not a help. It's that first little bit inbetween signing with them and signing with your pub.

I hate it, but I'm having AAA at present, eh. I'm trying to circumvent this horrible feeling by keeping to myself, writing (furiously) the next book, and thinking happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

Though sometimes they sneak in.

......and

It's full speed ahead on PoloGRRL!

Secretly, I'm pretty happy about this. SuperAgent likes the idea and thinks it's a good one, even for this market, and I'm of course happy to keep going on it.

The nice thing is that I don't need any sort of wordathon for this book. No sirree bob. It's falling out at an insane pace.

Unfortunately, the time of my move is also coming up at an insane pace. I'm so ready for July to be here so I have all this crap done!

Well holy cow.

I've done gone and joined the SCBWI. It's my first 'official' writing group I've joined, rather than started.

There seem to be lots of benefits, and most all the authors and illustrators I really respect are members. So I think I'm in good company. The only other group I want to join is the Western Writer's Guild. Then I'm good on groups, really.

There's also a rumour that there are events in Germany. I suppose that remains to be seen, but I'd love to help get something going here. I know myself and Kerri would both love to branch out and meet other children's writers here in DE. Currently, not a lot of luck.

There's nothing worse than feeling so cut off from the entire writing and illustrating group of people we belong to (one of the only minuses of living here, tbh).

There's a lot of there's in this post. There There There...once you stare at that word, doesn't it start to look like it's not been spelled correctly?

Packing week.

Hi guys!

How was your weekend? 

Pretty good over here. We've found a mover, signed on the dotted line, made the appointment to go and pick up the keys/take over the room, set up the internet (V.Important!!) and I've managed to locate a kitchen guy. This kitchen guy will set up our present kitchen in the new house, as I'm sure I've told you (I have, haven't I???) that flats in Germany come...empty. Like totally empty. 

So this is all good. 

I have also edited 2 chapters of The Forester's Son, and am more than 1/3 done (but less than 1/2 done) with PoloGRRL. The judge (aka the agent) will then decide which she wants to see first, so in that way, all that lovely editing for both will be on hold until she decides. She knows best. 

This week and the next couple weeks might be a little crazy around here at CasaBlom, so I might not be posting every day. We're packing intensely this entire week and weekend and will be in Berlin lots the upcoming weeks. The moving day is the 27th, which is really starting to wear me down. 

The stress, it's eatin' meh. 

STRESS EVERYWHERE. 

Ack. 

LOLCAT FREIDAYZ

History vibes

Here's a fun little fact about yours truly: 

I like history. As in, the history of my family. 

I've been tracking down (it seems like) details on my background for a looong time. Yesterday evening I finally got some facts confirmed and straightened out, and I'm going to sit here for a minute and just...be happy. 

Say hello to my great-great Grandpa on my mother's mother's side: 

His name was Thomas Stone, and he was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. This is what I really dig about researching. For instance, we knew on her side there's lotsa old well-off lawyerly guys...and we knew vaguely that there was someone like this, coming from one of the first blokes off the Mayflower. But seriously, to actually have it confirmed, and then be able to read about him,  it just somehow feels more ... real. 

In addition, I have information on another dear-to-me relative that I've always had trouble discovering information on...a Belle Haughey, a Choctaw that married my great-gramps back when that really was frowned upon. (There's a book in that one, so details will be slim here). 

What does that have to do with writing? 

Well, if you look at the top of it, not much. I mean, they're dead and gone, right? They certainly can't help me get a publishing contract. 

However. 

The longer I do this and the better I become at it (and it's only a slow improvement, heh) I come to realize I write books with themes that are important to me. I don't really get the theme or question when I'm writing it, or right when I get the idea...I get it later, when (for instance) I'm talking to my critique group and something just pops out, or I'm running and something falls into place with a click. 

I end up writing about things that I puzzle over, things that make me a better person once I get them out and on paper, and for that, for that history that spills over and out into a more satisfied Jen, I'm happy. 

Now my plan is to track down Ms. Haughey on the rolls, or try to, and see what I find out. If you have a recommendation on how to do this, I'm all ears. 

(I'll cross post this to Adventures for Friday)

Warning - Do Not Read if Hungry!

I'm kind of a foodie sort of person. As in, I love talking about it, eating it, making it and everything. I don't like the calories involved and how they attach to me in unhappy ways, but still. I'm lucky enough to have an agent that shares the same sort of fixations *coughcough* that I do, chief amoung them food. We talk about food all the time. Or lots of the time. 

So this blog post is dedicated to her - 

I have to level with you - when I first came here I had *no* idea of the sorts of things that Germans ate. I mean, besides for bratwurst and french fries (called pommes over here) I always thought French had the line on pastry stuff, and Austria for the sweet bits. 

But it just ain't so. 

There are entire lovely shops dedicated to the fine art of the cake, and entire shops dedicated to the fine art of bread. Sometimes these shops merge together in a lovely puff of powdered sugar. 

I love bread, but before I came here (again) I thought there was just white bread in the world. 

Not so. 

This is our nice bakery down the street. I particularly picked this one to use as my argument for 'Hey, these Germans know how to throw down some sugar' because of their great food mix and the fact they make it all themselves. 

To whit: 

First off, they provide cute little forms that you can use to cook with. 

The forms on the left my hubs used to make this awesome little tart: 

He beat up some creme until it was fluffy, threw in some strawberries (that we purchased from a local strawberry farm), a little vanilla and some pistachio nuts and viola. 

I swear to you, I was dancing with delight when I ate one of these babies. They didn't last long. 

Anyway. 

Here you can get specific amounts of bread, if you're just a little hungry or old or infirm or whatever. They have a slicer which would slice it for you or you can have it entire and unsliced. Please note that this is only a paltry selection of their breads, but I love looking at all the wheaty goodness whenever I go past. 

In the front-right part of the bakery, you've got the 'handyables' - i.e., the pastries the bread ladies can stick in a small paper bag for you and you can take on your way. 

For instance, the Berliners: 

These are puffy dough with either pudding or jam-filled insides. They are crazy, and a nom-worthy tradition on some days. (I believe New Years Day.) You've got other easy carry bits as well: 

Then we come to the cakes. This place has mad awesome cakes. I cannot tell a lie. The kid (son of the baker) became a baker himself and pops shoved him all over Germany and I believe even France? Anyways, he makes scrumptious cakes, and again, you can buy in bulk (as in the entire cake) or slices: 

Then you have the little individual slices, which are quite yum. In summer of course you have lots of pastry bottoms with fresh fruits put on top...these are very refreshing, and take up a lot of space at the shop: 

Then you have your normal cream-filled bits. OMG the pounds I could really put on here:

So that's it!

Now, when are you coming to visit!! :)

Hunky-dory

Feeling pretty okay today, my darlings!

Why?

I'm ONE-THIRD finished with PoloGRRL! This one I love, love, love. It's starting to get pretty complicated, and I don't think Meg is gonna like what she finds out, but hey, it's life man!

Aaaaand I think I'm suitably distanced enough from Forester's Son to begin editing. So I did, and I'm two chapters in. Much to my amazement, it does not suck.

So it's a pretty good day! Where are you in yours?

The Baker's Cat

It's hard being a baker's cat. 

First, the papa hooman must make his cake. This involves mess, and foodstuffs that are not cream. PAPA=FAIL.

But then it's finished, and the hoomans have their bit. 

What is MOST important, however, is the loveliness of the cleanup. The Blue cat has determined he is the official cream-dispenser/eater.

(He finished the whole entire thing himself.)