I'm several days tardy posting this....but the winner of the Curiouser and Curiouser contest is Rachel Bellavia(from Blogger)! Rachel, please email me at nataliecparker AT gmail DOT com with your mailing address to claim your very own ARC of THE CURIOSITIES.

Her entry was both silly and delightful, so I'm posting it here for you all to see.



Thank you to everyone who entered! I enjoyed all of your entries and if I could give all of you an ARC, I would!

I'm sure there will be a time for details later. Now, however, is the time for ex!cla!ma!tion points! Because I'm going to be published!

The official announcement: 

Natalie Parker's BEWARE THE WILD, pitched as Twin Peaks meets The Village, in which a claustrophobic Louisiana town is dominated by its sinister, encroaching swamp, which swallows up a boy who is instantly forgotten by everyone except his sister, and replaced by a mysterious girl from the past who is intent on taking over his family and his life, to Phoebe Yeh at Harper Children's, in a good deal, in a pre-empt, in a two-book deal, for publication in Winter 2014, by Sarah Davies at the Greenhouse Literary Agency (NA).

Foreign: info@rightspeople.com

That's right. HarperCollins Children's Books! I am so happy I could sprout flowers from the top of my head. And oh, holy crow, there's already a Goodreads page. 

To every one of you who has been reading this blog over the years, THANK YOU.

I'm in an exceedingly good mood. My week was a pitch perfect mix of challenging, exciting, and engaging. It involved high stress day job meetings, celebrations, chalk drawings, and fire. Really, it was incredible. I suppose you could even call it a curious sort of week. 

*and then it happened that Natalie failed to segue seamlessly*

So, I'm going to give away an ARC of a book I've had the privilege to watch evolve, THE CURIOSITIES by the Merry Sisters of Fate (do I really need a parenthetical here? don't you know them already? Brenna, Tessa, and Maggie).

What's it about? I'm glad you asked:
A vampire locked in a cage in the basement, for good luck.

Bad guys, clever girls, and the various reasons why the guys have to stop breathing.

A world where fires never go out (with references to vanilla ice cream).

These are but a few of the curiosities collected in this volume of short stories by three acclaimed practitioners of paranormal fiction.

But The Curiosities is more than the stories. Since 2008, Maggie Stiefvater, Tessa Gratton, and Brenna Yovanoff have posted more than 250 works of short fiction to their website merryfates.com. Their goal was simple: create a space for experimentation and improvisation in their writing—all in public and without a backspace key. In that spirit, The Curiosities includes the stories and each author’s comments, critiques, and kudos in the margins. Think of it as a guided tour of the creative processes of three acclaimed authors.

So, are you curious now?

I'm sure you ARE curious and you're dying to figure out how to win this beautiful ARC.

The rules are simple, really: I want you to show me how curious you are about THE CURIOSITIES.

This is a points for creativity sort of contest, but the kind of creativity is entirely up to you. The only requirement is that your blog entry/tweet/facebook update/vlog/tumblr post/whatever include the words "I'm curious as a ___ about THE CURIOSITIES." 

For example, you might tweet: I'm curious as a cucumber about #THECURIOSITIES! 

Or you might blog an original piece of artwork:


(This was also the week I learned cucumbers are strangely difficult to draw and they look better without arms.)

Whatever you do, include the phrase "I'm curious as a _____ about THE CURIOSITIES." Add links to this post if it suits your fancy. Enter as many times as you like, just make sure you drop links to your entries in the comments below. 

I'm afraid this is a US address only contest. I also need to be able to see your tweets/FB updates/etc - I can't count locked entries. Sorry! 

I'll pick my favorite entry next Friday the 11th, so you've got time to be creative. Aaaaaaand go!

The problem with the Grand Canyon is that it doesn't look real. And unless you have some wicked fancy macro lens, your camera isn't going to help with that. It didn't take very long for me to realize that all my photos of the canyon were going to look exactly the same. Same rocks. Different angle. Each looking like a romantic painting of a striking landscape.

So! I turned to the local abundance of juniper trees for assistance. They make marvelous models, it turns out. They're so emotive, so friendly, so shockingly versatile, which is how I ended up with a series I'm calling, Juniper in Repose at the Grand Canyon. 

First up, the model I like to imagine crept upon the canyon in the dead of night, then awoke to discover how close it had come to falling in, Juniper Startled:



Second, Juniper in Awe:



Third, the Juniper who wished to be a Condor:



Fourth, the Giving Juniper + Tessa:



And finally, Yesterday's Juniper (taken 1,000 feet down in the canyon wall):



There you have it: the Grand Canyon via the life and times of a juniper tree. 

For years and years, we’ve been talking about making a trip to the Southwestern US to see the Grand Canyon. Partly because Tessa loves the region and partly because I’d never been. So, we decided it was high time we made good on this particular item on the Someday List. We bought train tickets (because what’s an adventure without trains?), booked a package via the Grand Canyon Railway, and took off.

Neither of us has traveled extensively by train in the US, so this was an incredible way to spend 4 and a half days. The trip ended up being as much about the train as it was about the canyon. Let me just break it down by hours because I suspect it will be impressive.

Hours spent on the Southwestern Chief (to/from Williams, AZ): 52
Hours spent on the Grand Canyon Railway (to/from the park): 5
Hours in the park, doing parkly things: 28
Hours in Williams (mostly sleeping and watching outlaw re-enactors): 21
Total trip hours: 106

My take-away? Train travel is beautiful and slow. Perfect for two writers searching for inspiration, but maybe not for obsessive clock-watchers.

We had perfect weather and even though I had my laptop handy, I had a very difficult time prying my eyes away from the changing landscape. We went from the plains, to mountains, to desert – gold to green to rust red.

As a bonus, my bed came with a handy harness that strapped into the ceiling to keep Natalie from falling to the ground in a graceless splat. I felt like an astronaut.

And then there was the canyon. Whoa, that canyon! It wasn’t what I was expecting. I think in my mind, the Grand Canyon was in a barren landscape like Tatooine, with a vicious, toothy maw in the bottom.

But, it is not.

In fact, there was an entire forest around the Southern Rim and shrubs grow all the way down to the bottom of the canyon. Pines that smell like vanilla, and shrubs that look like they’ll cut you if you stray too close.

In any case, the canyon brought out one of the key differences between Tessa and me, and it has something to do with self-preservation.

Bonus points if you can tell me which of the women in this picture is representative of me. HINT: I’m the Sagittarius.

I really wanted to hike down into the canyon and if I’d planned more time and packed better hiking clothes, I’d have hiked all the way to Phantom Ranch to stay the night all the way down at the bottom. As it was, though, we had time to hike down the 1.5 mile trail and back up again.

This is the point at which the Grand Canyon pulls one over on those of us used to mountains and hills and other things that go up. The canyon trails suck you in. They look easy. They look fun. You’re cruising downhill and looking at the world rising up around you. You’re excited to see what’s ahead, what’s through that next nifty looking tunnel, what’s around that next switchback.

It’s all exciting and wonderful and EASY.

But then, it’s time to go back up. And that’s when things get painful. Not only is the uphill climb interminable and hard, but you’ve already seen the view from the top. THERE IS NOTHING NEW AHEAD OF YOU. It’s not like a mountain hike, where you’ve got the view AND the downhill trek to look forward to. No. It’s all pain and sweat just to get back to the vantage point you’ve already seen. It’s insult to injury, I tell ya, and it’s only by the sheer desire to survive that you reach the top again.

The Grand Canyon has a dark sense of humor.

But I don’t regret making the hike. What’s a victory without a little pain?

Friday the 13th, perhaps more than any other day of the year, makes me think of my mother.

It's a strange sort of association, and not one she intentionally worked to create. In fact, I think she'd be surprised to learn that every single time the 13th of the month falls on a Friday, I hear her voice singing, "Happy Women are Powerful Day, darling girls!"

I'd be willing to be this occurrence was unique to my house. This is the sort of story that I think captures the essence of my mother.

We didn't always go around calling Friday the 13th Women are Powerful Day. In fact, we probably didn't call it anything at all until I was in elementary school and capable of bringing home scary ideas like viruses. One day, I came home with Friday the 13th in tow - there was one on the horizon and I'd learned they were dire things. I remember explaining to my concerned mother that there was a list of things we needed to avoid: black cats (and we had three!), ladders, the color red, and umbrellas. When she asked me why we needed to be so careful on the 13th, my answer was obviously, "Because of the WITCHES."

"And what," she asked, "do witches do?"

"BAD THINGS." I was horrified that she, a grown adult, was clueless.

Since this was also the time in my life when I discovered a love for books by R. L. Stein and Christopher Pike, I'm sure she was already looking for signs of trouble. I know this to be true because whenever I picked up one of their books, my mother transformed into hag from 'The Princess Bride' and shouted, "Boo! Boo! Booooo!" She'd continue until she ran out of breath, at which point, we'd enter negotiations, which usually ended up with "If you get two MORE books and read them BOTH before that one, then you may get it." 

(Man, I miss that sort of negotiation.)

So! What this meant was that mom was tuned into things like useless fear and degradation of women (yes, witches are women, too). She wasn't going to stand for my blaming all the bad luck of Friday the 13th on a group of women, so she reclaimed it. 

"Natalie," she said. "I'll tell you a secret. Many people are afraid of witches because they were powerful women. Just like you. So, you don't have to be afraid of Friday the 13th. It's not actually bad luck. Not for us. It's our day because we are powerful women."

Well, you can bet I went right out to convert my friends over to this way of thinking (an unsuccessful campaign). I also started looking forward to the 13th because I thought, surely, on one of those days, my magical ability would present itself (still waiting...).

So, Happy Friday 13th, everyone. Live it up. I hope you go out and cross the path of a black cat, walk beneath a ladder, and that you're wearing red. 

Not long ago, I was tagged by Ruth Lauren Steven (who, by the way, is running a very, very interesting contest on her blog for writers - one that involves agents and queries and pages - go here for all the details) in the Lucky 7 meme. But I was busy and didn't post, and a short time later, was tagged again by Myra McEntire. I'm not usually one for memes. In fact, I never post them because they invariably take me back to grade school and the excruciating pain of hand-written chain letters. However, I've enjoyed seeing this one on the blogs of friends and fellow writers, so I'm dipping into the meme world for just a second to play along. 

If you’re tagged, you have to do the following:

1. Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next seven lines/sentences as they are – no cheating
4. Tag 7 other authors (I've reserved the right to edit. If you want to post, consider yourselves tagged by virtue of stopping by to read my blog.) 

I have two works in progress at the moment, so I asked Twitter to help me decide between options 1 (click) and 2 (click) and they picked the first. The following drafty excerpt is from page 7 of the wip I'm calling WATER for now:

Half a mile below, miles of dusty karst-invested hills swept past. Perfect territory for finding hidden pockets of water in one of the many cave systems, but every last one I passed was as dry as the sky above. I didn’t need the constant reporting of the ship’s radars to know it. The only water I sensed was pumping through the veins of the ship. With the sun already past its zenith, I was looking at yet another night in some cracking valley with who knows what for dinner and a dwindling ration of water.

I’d already been away from camp for five days. I carried enough drinking water for ten, twelve if I pushed it and was careful.

/end Lucky 7 meme

Thank you for reading. To show my appreciation, I'm going to save your life. BOOM. You're welcome.

A few days ago, I was out for a run with my dog, Grendel (so named for his monstrous seven-toed feet). I've lived in my neighborhood for nearly six years and in that time, I've run my three-mile path hundreds of times. I feel good on this path. I recognize the other joggers and walkers, I know which dogs Grendel does and doesn't like and cross the street if needed - it's my path. But on this day, something totally unexpected happened.

Not zombies, though I understand why it would be your first, rational guess.

It was later in the afternoon, so the main street was busy. I passed a man who was walking in the opposite direction, but I stopped just a few feet away because I'd reached the point at which I always cross the road. But there was traffic and as I waited I heard, "Hey, what kind of dog is that? That's a good looking dog."

I turned to see that this man had stopped and was walking back toward me. He was not looking at my dog.

Three things I should have said?

1. DEADLY.
2. Oh, he's just a pit bull/rottweiler/german shepherd mix, but his mama was a dire wolf.
3. This, right here? Best argument for earbuds I've ever heard.

But instead, I said, "Just a mix."

I thought that was it because I was clearly exercising and ready to cross the road, but he had a follow-up question. Get ready to marvel at how smooth he was...

With a vague gesture, "Hey, I just moved in over there. What's your address?"

Three things I should have said?

1. How about directions? Second star to the right and straight on til morning.
2. I think you'll have better luck with the lottery.
3. 555...

But instead, I said, "Oh...somewhere..." 

I know. Marvel at my smoothness. This terribly clever remark was combined with vague hand twirling in the air above my head, which I'm sure was intimidating in some way. BUT this was also about the time I was sizing him up and deciding I could out run him if it came to that. I may have also started to imagine he was in the early stages of zombie-infection...

Traffic, thankfully, paused just enough that I could dart across the street and put several tons of fast moving steel between us.

Oh, but that wasn't enough of a deterrent for the bold street stalker! As I began to jog away, he yelled, "What was that? What was that?"

Three things I should have said?

1. All the answer you're gonna get!
2. Evasive maneuvers. I'm sure you've seen them before.
3. THIS IS WHY I NEED A SWORD.

But instead, my wit failed me, yet again. I shouted, "See ya!" And ran away.

Of course, this whole time, Grendel was standing idly by, pondering clouds and bugs alike. At least he's cute.

You may be aware of the fact that I find zombies to be utterly, engrossingly terrifying. It's fair to say that I think about them at least once a day. Not only because Socrates stands guard on my desk, but because my imagination simply will not let fantastical creatures be. To the piece of my brain that processes fear, zombies are something I should fear approximately 17 times a day. 

There's a reason I can't run outdoors with music on, and it isn't because I'm afraid of being hit by a car or that I've watched way too many episodes of Criminal Minds or even that I've watched those episodes 5 or 6 times a piece (don't judge). It's because I need to be able to hear the zombies when they come up behind me. This isn't true for treadmill running. Because if a zombie sneaks up on me on my treadmill, then they deserve my brain. 

What I'm getting at is that my brain is powerful. For the sake of argument, let's just say there's no rational reason I should be afraid of zombies. Let's just pretend for a moment that I wasn't actually in danger of having to outrun the horde anytime soon. In the absence of Real Danger, my mind has done a fantastic job of believing in something that doesn't exist. So well, that probably 80% of my physical fitness is a direct result of that fear. 

You think I kid? 

There's only one other thing that could possibly motivate me to hang from my pull-up bar or hold plank pose for longer than the 5 seconds it takes for me to remember how HARD those things are, and that's cookie dough (or possibly Damon's eyebrows).

(I deny your accusation of gratuitous Salvator Brows).

I used to think I was alone in this strange reality of Zombie! Terror! But it turns out, I'm not. 

There's a professor at Michigan State University teaching a course called, "Surviving the Coming Zombie Apocalypse - Catastrophes and Human Behavior." The full story is behind that link (sent to me by my little brother, adamposadas), but basically, this prof is using zombies to make social science immediately intriguing to students. It's a perfect blending of imagination and scholarly pursuit! 

Another recent exercise of Zombie! Terror! as motivation is the Zombies, Run! game, which is basically like a real life video game. I suspect that the majority of people playing the game won't actually experience the sort of terror I do even without the aid of an app, but that doesn't negate the power this has to change someone's reality. 

Both of these are tapping into the idea of the Zombie to change the world in a positive way. I find that to be pretty amazing. So. Imagination is powerful stuff. It can make the mundane exciting and turn every single day into an adventure, which is pretty much what I've been trying to do my entire life.

When does your adventure start?

The second you imagine it.