Back to our irregularly scheduled blogging.
First off, thank you all SO MUCH for your support, your congratulations, and your kind words. I’ve cried about sixteen times over the last five days. I’m so touched. Really. You guys are amazing.
A lot of people have asked me how the book auction went down. It’s a great story, but I’m going to wait a few weeks to tell it. When I tell it, you’ll understand why.
See? I can totally build suspense.
I have deadlines now, so I’m going to be working on my sequel for the next few months. ELEMENTAL focuses on the brother who can control water, and next up is the brother who can control fire. (That’s my buddy Gabriel. We’re tight.) For a few months I’ve been shyly toying with the idea of asking a local firefighter what it’s like to fight fires (because that strongly plays into the sequel), but I couldn’t exactly imagine walking up to the firehouse and stating my reasons for asking.
“So, yeah, I’m writing this book about these brothers who control the elements, right? Yeah, and there’s the one who controls fire. Could you tell me all about house fires? And, well, if you suspect someone of arson, like, how would you go after them?”
Yeah, that wouldn’t sound suspicious AT ALL.
(It’s kind of like when I was researching how to blow up a bag of fertilizer for the first book.)
If you’re an FBI agent and you’re reading this, it’s all for novel research. Pinky swear.
But anyway, now that I’ve got a book deal, I figured it was time to act like a professional. I looked up the name of the local fire chief, and I sent him an email.
He responded really quickly that he’d be happy to talk to me. We exchanged a few more details and worked out a time. (Inside, I kept going, “SQUEEEEEEEEEE! I get to talk to a fireman! I get to make my book sound real!”)
On the outside, it was more like, “Thank you so much for offering your time.”
But then — BUT THEN — he sent me this last email that said, “… and if we get a run while you are there you can hop on the engine with me.”
I was at my nieces’ dance competition when I got that email, and it was all I could do not to scream in the middle of the auditorium. (Seriously, no one would have noticed. No one screams like a mom at a dance competition.)
Now, look, I’m not going to wish for anyone’s house to burn down. That would be horrible.
But maybe a little brush fire? Maybe an abandoned building fire?
I don’t know how I’m going to contain myself for the next eight days. I might get to ride on a fire truck! A real fire truck! With real firefighters!
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
I’m okay. Really. I once read about Simone Elkeles getting to do a ride-along with detectives in Chicago. (Her books deal with gangs — and the guys are HOT and AMAZING. You must go read them.) When I read about that, I thought it was the coolest thing in the whole entire world.
Not anymore. If I could ride on a fire truck, that would be the coolest thing. Ever.
Oh. Sorry, honey. Top five then.
Can you imagine how much book fodder I’ll get out of this? Can you imagine?
I know I sound like a freak. What thirty-three year old woman (with a corporate desk job and a family, no less) wants to ride around on a fire truck?
This one does.