Hey doodles–I’m still getting a lot of Tweets/GoodReads messages/emails asking me about whether or not there’s going to be a Brightly Woven sequel. Alas, I have no updates for you on the matter. And, as you know, it’s not my decision. A few enterprising fans have put together a petition you can sign if you’re interested in seeing one.

Thank you so much to everyone who’s written to me with your support. Truthfully, the best way to go about this is to continue to recommend and share BW with your friends. To those of you who’ve been doing it since March, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Have a great weekend!

I’d like to think that my family is fairly sturdy–at least in the sense that it’s rare for us to sprain anything and our bones are nice and strong. In fact, until this weekend, I don’t think there was a single broken bone between the five of us (unless I’m missing some story from my my parents’ past) except maybe that toe my Dad might have broken tripping over a suitcase. But, honestly, it was probably just a sprain. (Men are such wimps about pain, aren’t they? Although, I guess I’d better take that back because I’ve never seen my dad cry before, regardless of how much pain he was in.)

What we are is a bit accident prone.

My sister (hi Steph!) is the best example of this. Really, from the time we were kids she was always turning up with this magnificent bruises. And the minute you put her on rollerblades or a bike or a skateboard, she’d turn up about ten minutes later with skinned elbows and knees and a sprained back. There are times when I still think it’d be safer for her to go through life wearing full body armor and a helmet–for instance, when she managed to give herself horrible second degree burns on the back of her legs in college, or when she called me at 8 AM on a Sunday morning because she’d fallen while running broke her front teeth.

We all trip going up and down the stairs. We’ve all slammed our fingers in the car door. We’ve all managed to get these weird shin injuries. The only Bracken with good balance appears to be our dog, Stryker, and even he’s slipped and fallen into the pool.

I’d LIKE to think I’m a little less accident prone, but I’ve had my moments, too. When I was a cheerleader in eighth grade (oh yes, I was–and guess who was the pom and cheer coach at the time? Stephenie Meyer’s younger sister Heidi), I fell during a routine and crammed my last vertebrae down on my tailbone and my back STILL hasn’t fully recovered. I’m far more dangerous in the kitchen. I used to cut myself almost every time I used a knife (an ex-con in D.C. Central Kitchen finally taught me the right way to cut and I have been knife-wound-free ever since). Now I’m all about burning myself, apparently. I have a recent scar on the inner part of my right arm from a steam burn I received from–get this–a microwave lunch. And just last night, as I pulled my (alas, slightly burnt) pie out of the oven, I managed to give myself a second degree burn WHILE WEARING FULL OVEN MITTS.

But my lovely Mama B definitely took the prize this weekend when she fell down two–count them TWO–steps and ended up needing 16 stitches for a gash above her eye–AND she broke her arm. I think she’s the first Bracken in my (immediate) family to do so.

This is the exact reason I’ll probably never write about a clumsy character–it hits a little close to home.

Goshhhhh. I really do have a problem, guys. This past Friday, when I was out wandering around Union Square half-delirious with heat stroke, it occurred to me that I might actually be a bit of a shopaholic. Granted, I don’t spend beyond my means and I usually only buy the stuff I really want or need, but I think I enjoy the thrill of the Bargain Hunt a little too much for my own good. It doesn’t help that boredom is usually a trigger for me (“hmmm… need a writing break, let’s see what’s new on ModCloth today—omg, CUTEEEEE. I definitely need that owl necklace!! And those oxfords!! I didn’t even know I wanted a dress like that until I laid eyes on it!!”) The good news is that I really dislike online shopping, unless I’ve already tried something on or can’t find it in the stores. So at least I’m not up at 4 AM, firing my credit card number off into the dark, nefarious abyss of the interwebs.

I’m pretty sure I get that trait from my dad, who, having grown up in what you might consider a moneyed household, really does like shopping. (Yes, these rare beasts DO exist! Maybe it’s the area I grew up in, but I know quite a few of them.) And when he has nothing else to do on the weekend, is all for going to the mall or Best Buy or Target. So while I’m a bargain hunter and spend money (fairly) wisely (aka going to F21 for trendy stuff, saving up for investment pieces), I just own… a lot of clothes and shoes.

Mom, on the other hand, is NOT a big shopper. She grew up in the opposite of a moneyed household. Unlike Dad, who has no problem having ten thousand yard sales and whose response to “I’m not sure I want to keep this…” is always “GET RID OF IT,” Mom has a hard time of giving stuff away or throwing things out. So while Dad has bestowed upon me the habit of shopping, Mom has also conditioned me to never want to get rid of anything I own, just in case I might one day wear it or use it again.

Case in point: my Lilly Pulitzer dresses.

I looooove Lilly. I think her clothes are really bright and happy and totally adorable (I know some people would disagree that wearing green monkeys on a skirt is attractive BUT THOSE PEOPLE OBVIOUSLY HAVE NO HEARTS). I built up quite the collection in my four years as a sorority girl in the South, mostly because no one wears Lilly in Arizona and I would always find the dresses for anywhere between 50-75% their normal price when I was at home over summer break. I really adore how girly and cute they are, and they have a special place in my heart.

But could you guys imagine me wearing some of these dresses on the streets of New York? New York, where my usual winter wardrobe consists of my black pants, black boots, black cardigan and black coat. Realistically, I’ll only wear a few of these skirts and dresses, and only for a few occasions. It’s sad, but I’m coming to terms with it. My Mom has been sending me pictures of all of the Lilly I left behind so I can tell her which ones she can resell, and I’m so pathetically attached to them that it took me almost two weeks to finally decide on what to keep.

I noticed this weekend that this need also carries over into my writing. There’s that well-worn expression, “Kill your darlings,” but, sadly, I am just not the murdering type. I latch onto ideas/scenes/dialogue snippets and I—foolishly, I might add—keep them in the manuscript for as long as I can before reality kicks in and I realize I’m doing the story or character a disservice. It’s silly of me to think that I’ll be able to keep every scene I write, that I won’t have to take a sharp pair of scissors to each and every chapter and snip, snip, snip…

Alas, one of my many faults as a human being. But I’m working on it… (And clearing out my closet!)

If you follow me on Tumblr or Twitter, you know that I’ve been a pie-baking machine for the last week or so. I honestly have no idea why–I’m not baking them for charity or my own personal enjoyment (I am firmly Team Cake). Also, it’s been 90+ the past two weeks, and we don’t have AC in our kitchen, so I’m sure my roommates were just SO pleased I was baking with an oven set at 425 degrees. I think I just like the process of putting the pie together and figuring out the ingredients (or I just really like weaving the lattice top). In any case, I was really excited because I put together a raspberry and peach pie to bring into work, only… it was a little too runny inside. I didn’t think the ladies in the office would appreciate that (and I’m way too much of a perfectionist to bring in a less-than-perfect pie, sigh).

In any case, I need to stop making food I have no intention of eating and actually make a legit trip to the grocery store. I usually go on Sundays with an idea of everything I’ll want to make that week, but lately I’ve been blowing money by eating out or just stopping into the store on the way home and only buying food for that night. My room has also warped into a black hole of mistreated clothing and trash bags that I need to force myself to take downstairs. See, this is what happens when you give yourself a difficult writing deadline to meet–everything else can wait. Dishes? Oh, they can chill in the sink. Laundry? I have enough clothes to last me a few weeks. Sunlight? Who cares if I’m a frosty shade of pale in the summertime, right? Right.

(You guys–do you see how boring it is to be an adult?? I’ve already confessed that the highlight of my week is the one day I let myself get a Chipotle Veggie Bowl. Old at 23! I no longer have Secret Shame. Just Shame.)

I think I’ve figured out why I enjoy Tumblr: I am super lazy. Lazy in the sense that, after blogging for almost 10 years in one form or another, I’m a little bored and weary of having to sit down and attempt to be funny and/or clever and/or thoughtful for paragraph after paragraph. I’d rather be using that time to write, you know? Tumblr lets me post photos of all the weird crap I find in NYC, my previously mentioned pies, snippets and quotes from my WIP (there’s one there right now), reblog all of the crazy internet memes I find, etc. That’s not to say I don’t like sitting down and writing out thoughtful blog entries about this or that–it’s just that I’ve realized I’m, naturally, more of a micro-blogger. And I have a short attention span, apparently.

Like, for instance, I’m thinking about keeping track of my daily outfits over there. I’ve gotten the impression that my sense of style is shifting, but I’m still a little bit of a fashion schizophrenic when it comes to what I wear. I also get in the habit of wearing the same outfits over and over again, even though I have so many glorious clothes. That’s the kind of thing I would never post on ab.com or LJ, but I’d feel inclined to post on Tumblr since it tends to be a little more “me.” As in “ME, ME, ME, ME!! THIS IS WHAT I LIKE AND MAKES ME GIGGLE” me.

Anyway, so last night I had dinner with Mandy Hubbard and Anna at a restaurant called Five Napkin Burger. I must be the worst person at choosing restaurants, by the way. The last 5N we went to was on the Upper West Side, and was fairly quiet–this one was in the Theater District, so it wasn’t exactly the primo location for a chat and chew. Lots of noisy, excited, happy people! I felt very, very bad because Mandy (who is in NYC visiting) managed to beat both Anna and I there. I’m always so nervous and worried for people who don’t live in the city–I stress out over whether or not they can find a restaurant, handle public transportation, and if I’m making them do too much walking. Basically, I treat them like little lambs who might accidentally stumble into the mouth of a toothy wolf. Which just goes to show you what a high opinion I have of NYC…

Anyway, so the downtown train I would have needed to take wasn’t running due to track problems in Queens (this always happens when it rains), so I had to take a different train down to 42nd Street/Bryant Park and hike it over to 45th and 9th Ave. Except, I always forget that 42nd Street = Times Square = Gawking Tourists = Much Frustration, so I basically had to shoulder-shove people football style to get past the Ripley’s Believe or Not Museum. Come to think of it, I must be pretty to see coming down the street toward you. I’m one of those that always “walks with a purpose,” meaning I have my headphones in, I’m walking fast, and I make annoyed faces at people who are standing around and blocking my path. Um, not one of my better qualities, but it gets me where I need to go, usually on time.

So in the end, I was about 10 minutes late and got there just as Anna was. We chatted about all sorts of things, none of which I can reveal here as they would break our Hamburger Circle of Trust. But it was fun and Mandy and Anna are both awesome. So there!

I’ll end this by pointing you in the direction of the hi-larious videos the Old Spice Man has been posting in response to twitter messages. This was some marketing genius, folks. Marketing genius.

Ah, if you’re reading this on ab.com, you’ll see that I threw up a quick new layout last night. I consider this one an ~in between~ layout until I can actually redesign the coding. After trying to futz around with Photoshop Elements I realized I needed to download real Photoshop to actually accomplish anything, so I’m currently playing around with a trial version of Photoshop CS5. It is… very different than CS3, which was the Photoshop I used on my last computer. Well, in any case, you’ll have to forgive me because my web design skills are a wee bit rusty. This is the original image of the girls, if you’re interested:

Actually, I made it last night while I was watching Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I usually need something on in the background when I’m working in Photoshop, but this posed a bit of a challenge because it was in Swedish with English subtitles, so I kept having to look between the windows which slowed everything down. The movie is excellent, by the way–really, one of the best I’ve seen this year. I’m really bummed that they’re going to make an English language version, if only because there’s no way they’d ever be able to improve on the original.

More later–must keep writing!!

What I did with my life on this long, miserably hot past weekend:

- Wrote/revised my butt off, and am back up to 25k words. As most of my stories end up between 90k-120k, I’m guessing this bad boy is probably going to be between 90k and a 100k. I realize this is interesting to no one but me, but after four attempts of starting and restarting the novel, I’m glad to finally be over the first fourth of the book. My word count progress is probably going to slow considerably, though, as the next few scenes all have to be written from scratch rather than just modified. I don’t think I’ll make my original goal of finishing by August 8th, but I do have a chance at finishing by the end of August.

- Went to Target in Brooklyn! Back when I was still at W&M, I used to take the bus to Target for fun, so you can imagine that I was excited for this adventure. What can I say? I just love that store. I go there when I feel homesick, that’s how deep my love runs. Except… okay, so you know in Toy Story 3 how the toys are put in the Caterpillar Room? Brooklyn’s Target is the Caterpillar Room of Targets. It’s just so… so… bad. There’s nothing on the shelves (FOR REAL–HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE) and what’s there looks like it’s gone through a world war and just scraped by with enough luck to survive it. Now, I don’t expect my Targets to look like glimmering, golden Fairy Realms where good deals bloom among the glitter-dusted roses–but I expect to not see dog poo-poo sitting in the lamp aisle.

Oh well. On the plus side, I didn’t have to take a water taxi to get there (just 45 minute subway ride) and the cart conveyor belt was kinda cool (which didn’t really make up for the fact that the escalators were broken).

- Tried to make homemade BBQ chicken. The BBQ sauce was DELICIOUS. The chicken… um, a little crispy. Shoulda putta lid on it.

- Posted pictures of the latest batch of Wheatie puppies on Twitter like a total maniac. My parents drove all the way down to Tucson to play with them for all of twenty minutes. That is the power of baby Wheaten Terriers. You cannot resist the cute!

- Watched The Shawshank Redemption for the first time in a few years, and caught a ton of little things I never noticed before. SO. GOOD. If you’ve never seen it before, I can’t even tell you how much you’re missing out.

- Got upset over something dumb on GoodReads, considered deleting my account over there, ranted on Tumblr, deleted rant on Tumblr, promptly got over it.

- Started thinking about ways to redesign my author site. Wished that I had inherited my mom’s drawing skills and her ability to cut a straight line.

- Sat outside with the intention of getting a tan, only to realize I am never going to be tan. Ever. Came to terms with it and valiantly moved on.

- Finally realized exactly what my A/C unit sounds like: Smokey on LOST.

- Stayed up until 5 AM on Sunday/Monday, but I’m not exactly sure why. Oh wait, no, I know exactly why–work stress/guilt! I almost came in yesterday, on my day off, because I was so convinced I had a million and a half things to do. I came in an hour early today, only to realize that I, uh, really don’t have anything to do at the moment.

How was your holiday weekend?

Okay, can we talk about this?

No, go on, watch. I’ll wait.

So, let’s re-cap:

Nameless, faceless friend who comes to a random conclusion without any prompting: I’m a one bike kind of guy

A cute, shaggy blond Australian kid (who needs a distinctive hairstyle if he’s ever going to come up against the Bieber) rolls up in a delicate peach sweatshirt. His sassy little phone rings–a text message! But what’s this? 143? Is this code only young, nubile pop stars can interpret after inhaling the the fumes of the make up artist’s extra-hold hairspray? Is the “;-)” the key to breaking this code?

Nameless, faceless one-bike-kind-of-guy: New flavor of the week?

The Justin Timberlake to Bieber’s Nick Carter: You don’t even know man.

No, man, I don’t know. YOU ARE A CHILD!!!! YOU ARE BASICALLY A FETUS!! NO AMOUNT OF BIKE CHOREOGRAPHY IS GOING TO DISTRACT ME FROM THIS FACT. GO HOME AND PLAY WITH YOUR TOYS OR SOMETHING. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ROAMING AROUND IN THOSE BERMUDA SHORTS??? AND STAY AWAY FROM THAT AMERICAN APPAREL WEARING HUSSY!!

Someone, somewhere decided that the entity known as Bieber has reigned unchallenged in the hearts of pre-pubescent boys and girls everywhere for too long. Clearly, that someone needs to be locked in a room with this song on loop for at least 48 hours.

(Actually, I’m a little scared of what the Bieber fangirls are going to do to this kid. Those hyenas do not play nice. They can smell danger to their sweet prince like blood on the wind. Ask Kim Kardashian.)

Home sick today, so trying to accomplish a few things around the apartment that I haven’t done (read: clean) and work on my WIP. In the interest of posting something every day this week, I thought I’d share my current playlist for it. Actually, there are two playlists–one features the oldies referenced throughout the story, and one that I’m listening to as I revise. So, not really a Teaser Tuesday, but you might be able to glean a few things based on the song choices.

Hope everyone’s having a great day!

First, there’s this:

H-O-L-Y CRAP does it look amazing. You know, we can complain and moan about how long it takes for them to make these movies… but they put an incredible amount of effort into making them visually stunning. I mean, there are just no words. I AM SO PUMPED!! What do you guys think?

So! What’s new in your worlds? I had a total blast this weekend, thanks to my friend Sarah Maas, who took my uncultured butt to the ballet for the first time. She actually let me choose what I wanted to see: Sleeping Beauty or Swan Lake. I went with Swan Lake on the strength of her recommendation, and to see the fabulous Gillian Murphy as Odette/Odile. Shall I share the awesome? I shall:

Sarah is ballet aficionado, so I learned A LOT just by sitting next to her. After the performance, we walked to the nearby B&N where I signed some stock, then we ventured up to the nearby Borders and visited books there, and after THAT we traded ghost stories over fro-yo. You guys probably don’t know this, but SJM is a fairy princess. For real. She has the most magical, interesting things happen to her (remember a few months back when the psychic practically chased her down the street? Okay, so maybe more interesting than magical in that situation…). Really, it’s cray-cray crazy. I wish some of the magic fairy dust had rubbed off on me!

I spent the rest of the weekend hard at work on my WIP. I am currently revising… CHAPTER ONE. So, clearly, I have made a lot of progress since my last update. In my defense, I’ve had the worst writers block I’ve ever had these past few weeks. Don’t get me wrong–I’d put down a few thousand words, only to backtrack and kill those darlings so fast it gave me whiplash. But then, it occurred to me that maybe the problem wasn’t that I was starting it in the wrong place, or with the wrong scene, but that it was in the wrong tense. All along, this story has been slipping out of me in first person present, even as I was trying to write it in first person past tense. I’m going to keep playing around with it in the present tense before showing it to my readers, but it was enough to uncork my head.

Let’s see… what else happened this weekend? Oh. The adorbs US team is out of the World Cup, and The NY Post pretty much had the perfect take on our national sentiment:

I mean, this from a nation that calls their baseball championship the World Series despite the fact that we’re, you know, the only country participating.

Oooh! And I started reading Firelight by Sophie Jordan and I’m really digging it. The cover is beautiful in person, by the way. I can’t wait to see what the final hardcover looks like with all of the pretty specs I’m sure they’re going to use. Is anyone else reading it?

Anyway, anyway, sorry for being so quiet over here. I post like a spaz on Tumblr, which cuts back on my need to flip out and fangirl over here. I’m off to bed now–I’m feeling really under the weather and I’m hoping a good night’s rest will cure me. Night, all!

EDIT: WAIT. ONE MORE VIDEO FROM ME:

Emma Watson is One Night Only’s Say You Don’t Want It. Awesome song + cute video – George Craig looking greasy x New York City = Alex is Happy.

WIP update: Still battling through the revision of the first chapter, hoping to finish it by tonight. I think I’m through the worst of it, though. Alas, it’s been a bit of struggle not to go ahead and info dump all over the place.

Okay, so, I’ve talked about this a hundred times before, but my Dad has been a Star Wars collector since I was about… whatever age you are when you’re in first grade. Pretty much my entire life, you could say. It’s been interesting to see my Dad go through different collector phases. For example, when he first started collecting, he was very much into the new toys that were being released by Kenner in the 90’s (the ones that apparently tried used the same body and face molds for all of the characters, including poor Hulk-alicious Princess Leia), but when it became pretty clear there would never be any real way of keeping up with all the new releases. So from there he moved on and started focusing more and more on the vintage toys from the 70’s and 80’s, and then the foreign versions of those same toys, and then the super mint condition versions of all of those same toys…

But I think my favorite part of his collection–and honestly, it’s probably his favorite part, too–is his poster collection. Dad’s got a real sharp eye when it comes to them now, to the point that he can spot fakes and accurately appraise their value. He has a lot of really weird one-sheets, from all over the globe. Take for instance The Exploding Darth Vader Head Return of the Jedi poster that came out of Poland (the pictured isn’t his, but the guy having his fingers all over the corners is still stressing me out), or the birthday cake poster, or this gem:

…which mysteriously appeared on my bedroom wall just before winter break sophomore year and features Luke in what looks like a lime green romper. It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Bracken household that once you vacate your room for college, your walls are fair game. (I have no idea why the Italians insisted on recoloring their clothes in pastels, by the way, but it’s pretty funny.) But, yeah, imagine an unnaturally tan and buff Luke Skywalker staring down at you every night as you try to fall asleep. Also, to put the size of that poster in perspective: I’m 5′10. That bad boy is almost as tall as I am.

Anyway, I got to thinking about posters today after The LA Times posted the original version of the famous (and in my nerdy little opinion) Hildebrandt poster for A New Hope. While it’s not my favorite (see below), it’s still has a special place in my heart as it was one of the first posters to show up in our then-playroom.

My favorite poster (I’ve called dibs on it!) is the “Gone With the Wind” Style A that Kastel did for The Empire Strikes Back:

The JPEG doesn’t do justice to it at all, but it’s so, so, SO gorgeous in person. (Style B is just not quite as epic, I must say.) It’s so rare to see an illustrated movie poster these days, and when you do it’s usually tongue in cheek or on the dismally fug side. But that poster tells you everything you need to know about The Empire Strikes Back–that it’s dark and moody, that Han and Leia get their “I Know” on, and that Luke, much like proverbial cheese, stands alone, and that Lucas didn’t write OR direct it. It seems to me that before trailers took over in marketing importance, the movie poster functioned in a similiar way to book covers–they were the average person’s first glimpse at some new, shiny story waiting for them in the near future. (It’s obviously not a perfect comparison, if only because the goal of book covers is grab the attention of a buyer long enough for them to pick the book off the shelf–I’m just thinking aloud here ) I can’t help but think they no longer function in the same way, and that their importance has lessened as time has gone on. Well, the good news is, people are still making some truly beautiful and cool posters for us all to gawk at while we’re heading into the movie theaters.

Ah, sorry for rambling! Have you guys seen any particularly great movie posters recently?