The droghte of Marche is totally about to perced to the roote

Gracious, it's the last night of February. Happy March Eve, everyone.

Here's how February went, well known among many as my least favorite month:

1. YA MS the Second and YA MS the Third are done. Caveat: both are drafted. YA MS the Third I considered strong enough to send along to ENIV; I second guess that decision on a frequent and regular basis. YA MS the Second I finished drafting only a few days ago, and I know full well it's not close to submission to the Otters, never mind ENIV.

2. I wrote a short story for my Loft group. I haven't written a short story in years, nor anything not specifically for young readers, teen or younger, so this was a nice departure. In working on it, I've come to feel a lot more comfortable with the revision process, on a nice small scale, than I ever have been before.

3. I saw the nearly final cover of THE ABSOLUTE VALUE OF -1! This was, oh, a week ago or so, and I cannot yet show the world. But soon, my pretties. Soon . . .

4. |-1| is also totally on Amazon now! Pre-order!

5. New York pizza is all about home-cooking now, since I learned how to make, stretch, and even hand toss a really good dough. With my homemade tomato sauce and some mozzarella, I can make a pretty passable NY-style pie. Now if I could just get my oven to 800 degrees, we'd be all set.

6. It's March in like five hours and change. Rejoice!

Big, cold week

It's super cold out again. We had a mini-March of sort for the last seven days or so, but as of yesterday, and certainly as of today if my cold toes are to be trusted, January is back, 110%. Let's all put our heads down against the wind and get through it.

That is, as soon as I get back from New York. I'll grant you, New York isn't much of a respite from winter blues, but it's a little one, if your winter blues are Minnesotan -- especially if while in New York you get to go to the SCBWI Annual Conference! Which of course I do. I'm extra excited (and nervous) this year because I get to meet my inimitable agent, ENIV, and hopefully a handful of Tenners, of which I've met exactly none, at least in person. Online we are not counting for these purposes. Or porpoises. I have a cold and feel very foggy in the head, but I'm sure I mean "purposes" or "porpoises."

I like dolphins.

Yesterday morning, I finally decided to send a finished draft of YA MS the Third to ENIV. I know it's not perfect, so yesterday's decision was about letting it not be perfect, after lying awake night and night and anguishing over every paragraph and plot decision for the past several months. I think it's good. I think it still could use some work, but let's remember that agents and editors (if this book ends up seeing any) are very helpful people when it comes to creating a book. Now, I will look forward to hearing from ENIV and his thoughts on what I've written.

Is it okay to say I know a lot of it is really good?

Now, back to life. Everyone here is sick with a cold; Sam probably picked it up at the Rosedale Mall play area late last week, and has been good enough to share it with myself and my wife since then, by all manner of coughing and sneezing on our faces.

Lots of food!

It's snowing this morning in Saint Paul. When I got into bed last night, it was raining. I remember turning the corner onto our block, finishing up Harry's nighttime walk, and thinking about "Aprille with his shoures soote," feeling glad that, according to Chaucer, it was a very springlike night.

Now Father Winter is punishing me for my hubris.

But I actually came in here this morning to say something else. There are many, many phrases and words on the list of keywords that directed people (via Google, mostly) to this blog. Among them is "be patient and tough," tied with my own name, which I think is unfair because "be patient and tough" ought to send people to Peter Cameron's site, if an author's at all other than Ovid. At any rate, my favorite keyword is:

jewish rye loaves at cecil's, st. paul

I think that's wonderful! It really sums up the heart and soul of this blog: what can a Jew do in Minnesota when he needs to get down with his Jewish bad self and have some back-east love? (That and being a writer, obviously, but anyway.) Well, since that search, or a variation of it (involving the question of Jewish rye at Cecil's), has occurred twice since February 1st, I will answer the question.

Yes, Cecil's on Cleveland Avenue in the Highland Park neighborhood of Saint Paul, does have great Jewish rye, with seeds, and a nice dark Russian rye, not to mention a great marble rye, if you're into that sort of thing. They also have terrific matzo ball soup, and they make egg creams with real Fox's U-Bet chocolate syrup. So while they are (obviously) not kosher, if you're like 99% of the Jews I've ever known, you probably want kosher style, not the real thing, because otherwise you can't have an egg cream with your pastrami on rye. (Oh, ps for the hardcore: they also have Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray Soda!)

Oh, and the latkes are HUGE. Be warned. They are not for the faint of heart.

And since I'm here, why not ramble on about food? As mentioned previously, Beth, Sam, and I went out for supper on Friday night to El Meson in Minneapolis. Terrific! Although I was at first a bit stressed out, because it looked like a pretty adult place (ie, not entirely as baby friendly as I'd thought), everyone seemed okay with Sam's being there, and a few other patrons under the age of ten eventually showed up, putting me further at ease. (As it happens, Beth ate most of her meal with Sam on her knee, but she was okay with it.) My entree (a grilled pork chop; it was the special of the evening) was excellent. The last time I'd had a pork chop was over a year ago, and that one had not been so good. Pretty sure I was slightly ill from it. But the real winners at El Meson, from our experience, were the appetizers we got. We shared a ceviche that was amazing, something called peras, which were pears, stuffed with brie, and wrapped in Spanish prosciutto, and a fresh tomato, avocado, and queso fresco salad called a Dominicana. We could have gotten one more appetizer between us and been very happy with the meal, I think.

Maybe next time we'll just get tapas. You get to try more things that way.

Sun goes down, it's Tuesday evening. . . .

How many times would I have to get a small shock from the static electricity of the just-finished dryer before worrying about permanent damage?

I think I am making a greater effort on my latest SAB/Eric Stevens assignment, perhaps because its focus is the recent inauguration, and I am considering posterity.

I hear it will reach 40 degrees this Friday. That should be nice.

And speaking of nice, the in-laws will be here tomorrow, noonish, and I will finally be able to get downtown for lunch and try My Burger. I'll let you know how it is.

Also, heard from Aforementioned Editor, and we will meet next Thursday to further discuss YA MS the First. I will say nothing more about it until after that meeting. Between now and then, if you hear about writing, it will be completely SAB or YA MS the Second. Unless I foolishly start a new project. But I won't.

I'm off to Northrend for a little while. Wish me luck.

Wrap

I'm letting myself off the hook for skipping so many days. I think since I was out of town and out of wifi for most of the long weekend, I can be forgiven.

SCBWI NY 2009, wrap-up report! My favorite thing about the conference was this, which I purchased right before leaving on Sunday. It's essentially a conversation between SCBWI founder Lin Oliver and YA book factory Richard Peck. They discuss writing, often technically. I watched the entire thing on the flight home and found it fully riveting. I recommend it to aspiring novelists and YA enthusiasts. I'm not sure how or where you'll be able to purchase it. Someone mentioned the SCBWI website is going to be relaunched soon; hopefully it will be available there.

Other than that, I think I didn't take advantage of the conference as much as I would or could have if not for familial obligations interfering with socializing time, on Friday evening, for example, or during Saturday night's wine and cheese event. Next time I attend a national conference, I'll have to really keep the whole weekend open so I can attend such smooze-fests.

I did get to meet Brad Strickland, though, which was pretty cool. I worked on a couple of his series at S&S, so it was nice to meet him. He's a friendly and chatty fellow.

No new word from aforementioned editor. No fear, though. I have to work on this thing for SAB all day tomorrow and Wednesday anyway.

I have nothing to say about the Super Bowl. I will say, however, that Vincent's, on Willis Avenue in Albertson, makes much, much larger pizzas than I recalled. Quite yummy, though.

Oh, also, Sam was pefectly pleasant on both flights, for the most part. And any crying he did on the return flight was completely drowned out by the escaped eleven-month-old running wild on the plane. So that was nice.

And it was about 45 degrees in New York when we left. Beyond wonderful to feel that temperature in the middle of winter. Beyond.

Of course, we both (Beth and I) miss New York City terribly, and loved spending a couple of days with some time to walk around. But, as we drove across the Throgs Neck Bridge this morning on our way to Newark Airport, we had a few minutes to gaze at the smog on the horizon in every direction, aghast, and decided, No, we don't want to live here again.

Kudos for the new bike path on Broadway through Times Square, though.

Winter cleaning

Today is cleaning day here at the Brezenoff household. Beth's slaving in the bathroom right now, while I am on lunch break. Fear not; I do my part (vacuuming, dusting, some odd decluttering). We also took down the Christmas tree, which is a relief. I like it; don't get me wrong. I'm not about to get all anti-goy on this. Fact is, when I was a tot, I was jealous of many of the Christmas trimmings. I do get sick of seeing it, though, after a few weeks, and its placement makes everything else have to shift to one side a little. Now everything is back to normal.

I think after lunch, though, before I tackle the kitchen, I'm going to brave the cold and take Harry on a longish walk. It's sunny out, and I could use a little of the old vitamin D, believe you me. The winter continues to hammer away at my soul, so I better fight back when I have the constitution to do so.

This evening, I think it'll be Jake Maddox time; I'm behind on the next title (a football story), and it's due Tuesday. Eric Stevens's good name must live on.

Wednesday is looking like my big highlight this week. Various in-laws will be watching Sam for me for about five hours, and I intend to use every minute of that to work on YA MS the first. I have this ridiculous notion that I can get a draft finished before the end of the month. It's probably a pipe dream.

I am not watching football. Football is boring.

The Morning After

Groan

Woke up late* on New Year's Day. I guess, if you stay up past your bedtime**, that'll happen. I staggered into the kitchen and sighed; who likes cleaning up after a wild New Year's Eve***? Nobody, that's who. Empty cans**** everywhere, food debris***** . . . all manner of mess to deal with.

But I push on, because it is a new year, and I am starting on a few of my resolutions right away, including number 3, with this entry, and number 1, for which I will later today head to DBC for a few hours of solid work time, if they are open. [ETA: They were not.]

I have not yet begun work on resolution number 9, and instead made crepes for breakfast at Beth's request. They came out really good, and we ate them standing in the kitchen over the counter like savages--savages with crepes and expensive-looking jellies!

*7:30 am
**9:15 pm
***Punch pizza and in bed by 10:30
****Specifically four empty diet caffeine-free sodas
*****The remainders of a nice mesclun and prosciutto salad with pine nuts. It was quite nice.

If only December had been NaNoWriMo!

Christmas is behind us. With it are also several dozen cookies, at least one turkey, three chickens, several imitation crabs, a bucket of mayo, five rolls, a quarter pound of sliced cheese, three portions of Grandma's potatoes, a liter of soda, two beers, six cups of decaf, and 6 hours of quality slick-road drive time. Woo!

Truth is, I made out like a bandit this season, with great eats and gifts and I should shut up. Also, the few gifts I either picked out on my own or had any amount of influence on were very well received, which is nice too.

In news more relevant to this forum, my writing for the last ten days has been fairly productive; it remains to be seen whether that productivity will prove useful to me in some way, namely monetarily! Ha. But seriously, I'm more than thirty-eight thousand words into YA MS 2 right now, and though I have already spotted a great many holes in its plot and timeline, which will need fixing in the revision stage, I'm still feeling pretty much good about it. The protagonist's voice feels fresh to me, and making her a gamer was huge fun. Plus, there's this really excellent feminist message . . . I think.

And speaking of gaming, I haven't played WoW in 46 days. But who's counting?

It's been a long time since the last update, so I won't try to cover every little thing, but I do want to add that Beth and I went to Good Earth for lunch again, and Chad was our waiter. AGAIN! It's starting to feel a little weird, to be honest. But I had the croque monsieur, which made me feel all oogy in a good way.

Dunes

The drifts of snow on windy nights like this, especially when the snow is dry and light, remind me of the dunes at Jones Beach on Long Island. In places, like on our own front lawn, tall perennials still stand, their tops reaching well above the reach of the accumulated seven inches, to deeper in the drifts, of snow, and look just like the thick-stalked grasses that managed to survive between the blacktop of the parking lot and the crowded flat sands closer to the breaking waves. Along the wood-plank path, on either side, where the sun made the sand too hot to walk, the dunes took whatever shape the wind gave them.

Tonight, I'm on the couch (what else is new?) and snacking on pickle chips, something of which I had never heard the last time I was at Jones Beach.

As my recent tweets and FB status updates have alluded to, I have begun a new MS. I am foolish in this respect, and have been for years. But sometimes some free writing has to happen to get my juices flowing again, and the YA MS had been running on fumes for a couple of days. So I free wrote. And free wrote. And free wrote some more. And now I'm 60 pages in and don't want to stop. It feels great that writing is fun again!

So far, it's still coming pretty easily, but this has happened before. Hopefully this time's a charm, and I'll get this title finished enough that I'll be able to go back and do some edits to bring it up to submission quality.

The real question is, when will I get back to YA MS? Ugh.

So, in future, YA MS is still YA MS, and this new one is, um, YA MS . . . 2?

WTB house in warm climate PST

Yesterday was a good day, in at least a few ways, but not so good in one way in particular.

On the plus side, I wrote a chapter and a little in Lily's section of the YA MS. It turns out she's a load of fun to write, and way smarter than I thought she was. Besides the productivity itself, I was able to do some writing during the day, while Sam was napping, which is always great. And all it took was a split-second decision*: I think I won't play Assassin's Creed right now. I think I'll open Word. Totally worked! Then Beth was nice enough to let me run out to DBC after supper and get even more done.

Sam was a pleasure to be with, too, for most of the day, and even let me shoot a couple of videos.

The negative side? Cold. SO COLD. PAIN COLD. I am so done with winter already, which is a huge shame, because (A) I live in Minnesota, and (B) WINTER HASN'T EVEN OFFICIALLY STARTED YET.

Today, Sam and I will very likely go to the MOA. You say, "MOA?! So close to Christmas? Are you MAD?!" Yes. But that's irrelevant. I don't think it will be too crowded during a weekday. Plus? Opa! for lunch. But we have some things we need to return to MOA-only stores, so it has to be done. And I could use a nice long errand to get out of the house.

*Anyone else remember the Split-Second Decision assembly in high school or maybe junior high? In that presentation, the split-second decision was of course saying NO to drugs! Yay, Nancy Reagan!

Remembering Picture Books

The Internet feels kind of slow today, so I thought I'd better do my part.

The sky is blue here in Saint Paul, and the three or so inches of snow on the ground are light, fluffy, and generally pleasant under one's feet. This is the easiest snow to shovel, but if the sun has its way, soon some little melting will begin, and then the snow will become wet, and heavy. This is how heart attacks happen.

I've been giving the YA MS some additional thought. Not on purpose, you understand. These ridiculous thoughts come to me in the shower or in the middle of the night, when I'm completely unprepared for them. At any rate, I have a brilliant (ha!) idea for a middle section, and -- get this! -- a PART TWO! oh good.

What this means, to sum up, is a final MS, in the who-knows-how-distant future, nearly six times the size of the original draft, which was, I'll admit, quite short.

All that said, Dr. James Orbinski of Medecins Sans Frontieres was on MPR this noontime, and it made me feel like writing about any topic other than genocide is pretty much a waste of time.

I suppose I'll get over it.

Bought a copy of The Snowy Day for Sam today. It was one of my favorites as a child. Which reminds me: I need help finding a book! When I was a child, I had a few favorite picture books. One was The Snowy Day, one was Whose Mouse Are You?, one was Make Way for Ducklings. However, there was another. I cannot recall the title, nor the author, nor the illustrator. But I can remember what it was about:

A boy recalls a trip to the park, sometime around dusk. Shadows fall over everything, and the boy's recollections are skewed. He saw, for example, a man walking with a grizzly bear! But, maybe, that was just a big dog, after all.

Any bells ringing for anyone from that description? Any tips are appreciated, as I'd like to get a copy of that one for my boy (and, yes, for myself, too).

In other news, I managed to stuff a huge lunch into my gaping maw (shout out to Tom Sniegoski!), and now I feel like crap. Salad for dinner is definitely in order.

This is the winter of MY discontent

Now it's really winter in Saint Paul, and it's just how I remember it: terrifying.

Not like "Oh it's so cold I might die." Not at all. That comes in February, when Harry's paws nearly freeze to the sidewalk on his nighttime walk, and I have to carry him home lest he suffer permanent foot damage. This is the terrifying one might feel before walking into a conference room for a production meeting, let's say; or maybe right before a Kevin Costner movie starts.

Today, the earth is a grayish white: the combined colors of the muddy grass and light dusting of snow. The sky, too, is grayish white, nearly the exact same tone. These are the days I dread most. Complete and total sensory flatness. Flatitude. It makes my eyes go numb. (See above, Kevin Costner movie reference.)

Meanwhile, I can't get any work done. I'm not blaming Sam at all this time, either. This is strictly the numb-eyes thing. Everything has a sheen over it, and not in a pleasant way. More like a window covered in Vaseline.

The good news is PE Obama has set some very nice (albeit not strict enough) rules against lobbyist involvement in the transition.