That’s me. I’m a murdering murderer, a bloodthirsty monster, a killer by design. And the sick thing is that I know I’ll do it again. I can’t help myself. My victims carry such an allure for me that I can’t step back and let them go free without loving them to death.

My name is Heather Brewer…and I’m a plant killer.

I love plants. During warmer temperatures, my little patio area is filled with dozens of beautiful, lush plants and flowers. Inside the house, I have a philodendron and a large palm. And inside my head, I’m already writing a eulogy for them.

See, I try to take care of them…I water them, talk to them (sometimes they talk back…those ferns are such gossipy things), give them little plant food pellets…and they die. Much like Charlie Brown in his Christmas special, “I killed it.”

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Perhaps I’m a version of Lenny from Of Mice and Men, and the plants are my puppy. But unlike Lenny, I willfully move on to puppy after puppy, stroking their little fuzzy heads until…well, you get the point.

What does this have to do with writing? Well, I was just admiring my little patio (what I call “the garden”) and daydreaming about how nice it will be to get my plants in and then sit at my little cafe table to do some editing. But my daydream was shadowed by the brown, ugly, dead clumps that were once plants (and trust me…they were brown clumps long before winter). My dad once joked that I have a brown thumb. I’m beginning to think he’s right.

It bothers me. But not enough to put much effort into correcting it. So, I’ll keep planting and loving my victims to death…and pushing the images of dead, lifeless clumps out of my head. Good puppy. Nice puppy.

My puppy.

Redheads don’t tan, my faithful minions. We step into the sunlight and burst into flames.

Yesterday I found myself downtown, wearing green, joking with the family about how giant leprechauns had come to take over St. Louis. That’s right–the 37th annual St. Patrick’s Day parade had come to St. Louis and it was my first to attend. Apart from people asking every five minutes if I’d registered to vote yet, other people handing me religious tracks shaped like shamrocks, and this little brat behind me that couldn’t seem to keep his face away from mine (I know I’m lovely, darling, but please…admire me from afar), it was a blast.

But.

See, I’d never dreamed that it would be eighty degrees and sunny in early March. So, naturally, I forgot my sunblock at home. Yeah…ouch. But on the plus side, I did get to see other rennies marching in the parade. And pipers. Can’t forget them.

Today will be filled with reading (I’ve yet to determine what), relaxing, and aloe vera…lots and lots of aloe vera.

Happy happy joy joy, my minions. I just finished the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks!

It ended at 31,248 words–pretty short of my 40,000 word goal, but I have no doubts that revisions will carry me at least to 40,000…and likely, beyond. I’m in love with the story–ugly as it is in its first draft form. And I think I did a pretty good job this time around. We’ll see what my readers say after the second draft.

At any rate, it’s a day of celebration, my minion horde. So make with the happy!

Flog me if you will, minions, but though today’s post is coming entirely too late to even really refer to it as Thursday’s entry, it’s a good one, so I beg your pardon.

Two wonderful, amazing, fellow vampire-loving authors have given me blurbs! So please, go out (or follow the links here) and buy their books–support two talented, giving, brilliant authors. There’s a shortage on the planet of good folks like these.

From Douglas Rees, author of VAMPIRE HIGH:

“This book will fool you. Just when you think
you’ve identified it as a story lit by the cheery glow
of a slightly scary jack-o-lantern, it becomes
something else — a tale told by the flickering light
of a dying campfire late at night. And the shadows are
very dark indeed. A surprising mix of humor and
horror.”

and from Nancy Baker, author of KISS OF THE VAMPIRE:

“Fresh and fast-paced, with just the right brew
of chills and laughs. I’m looking forward to
finding out what happens when Vlad hits Grade Nine.”

And a cloud of happiness rests comfortably on the Brewer house.

Sweet dreams, all!

Somewhere under the pile of bills, the stacks of notes, the presence of duckies, and the random assortment of All Things Heatheresque, I have a gorgeous cherry desk.

But for some strange reason, I cannot seem to keep it uncluttered. Once a month, I haul out a trash bag and go through everything. Throw this away, throw that away, file this, put that there. The desk will stay clean for about a week. And then, as if little desk-grubbing-up gremlins had come in the night, WHAMMO! It’s filthy and disorganized once again.

(Well, I don’t know if I’d use the word “disorganized”…as I know where each and every thing on my desk is located. Ask me where my latests notes on Wonderland are–got ‘em right here. That coupon for 50 cents off Diet Pepsi? It’s shoved halfway under the mousepad, thankyouverymuch.)

The desk is the only thing in my house that really gets cluttered. Maybe the gremlins like cherry.

Today, I’m going up against the gremlins during writing breaks. I miss my desk.

Speaking of writing…I didn’t finish Chapter Thirteen last night after all. It turns out that chapter is a bit more involved than I originally thought. But rest assured, today I’ll not only finish it, but head straight on into Chapter Fourteen.

That is…if I ever stop procrastinating and just go do it already…

Three more chapters to go and I’ve completed the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks! Of course, for some reason, this book is working out just like the first in the series–the first draft will end short of my 40,000 word goal.

But that’s okay. I tend to add quite a bit during revisions anyway, and that will put me over the top.

What’s interesting is that I go through a period of sadness when I get close to finishing a book. The same sadness, interestingly enough, that I go through after I finish reading a really great book. I just get bummed that the journey is over. And, even though I know that there will be other books, other stories, other characters…I still mourn the loss.

Weird, huh?

Today I’ll be finishing up Chapter Thirteen (which will be the most exciting chapter in the entire book…plus it’s my favorite number!), cleaning off my desk, and contemplating my deep love of Fester Jester.

Last night I was chewing on an idea with my brain. (Relax, that’s perfectly normal for me) Then, after more chewing, more thoughts, and several hours of inner debate, I made a decision.

I’m going to finish writing the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks before my agent gets back from the London Book Fair on March 13th.

Crazy? Maybe. But, I did the math after yesterday’s word count and it works out to 1,600 words a day–a perfectly feasible goal, especially with Vlad. (If it were Dillon, there would be no way I’d tackle this goal–I don’t enjoy setting myself up for disappointment) I’m not sure why I’m nervous–maybe the whole Wonderland/Dillon thing has filled me with self doubt. When I wrote Black and White/A Whisper of Need, my minimum was 2,000 words a day, and I met that goal each time, usually surpassing it.

But it’s time to suck it up and dive in there fangs first. I’m a writer, for cryin’ out loud. This is what I do.

Wish me luck, minions.

A dear friend of mine (Hi, Christopher!) sent me a word cloud some time ago and I kept meaning to put it up here, but…well, I’m forgetful. But here it is and I LOVE it! Totally sums up my blog, I think. Don’t you?
If you’d like a word cloud of your website, just click here.

I recounted the people who have offered to take a look at Eighth Grade Bites and possibly give me a blurb. The other day I said it was seven, but I was wrong.

There are eight.

Something’s dying. And I’m pretty sure it’s my love of Wonderland.

Let’s get one thing straight, my minions. Writing almost always seems to come very easily to me. (Notice I didn’t say “good writing”–it’s my belief that only a tenth of what I write is anywhere near good) I’m not one to struggle with the flow of words. And I’m a fast writer–1,000 words a day is standard for me. My top wordcount put-out so far has been 5,575 words in four hours. So, something isn’t right with Wonderland…and I need to step back and figure out what that is before I can move forward with it.

I’m reminded of that quote from Raymond Chandler: “The faster I write, the better my output. If I’m going slow, I’m in trouble. It means I’m pushing the words instead of being pulled by them.”

I’ve always viewed myself as the voice for my characters, their interviewer, their medium. They tell me their story and I write it down. I’ve run into situations with Vlad where he dug his heels in and refused to discuss a certain event until we first visited a different event and, let me tell ya, I learned to go with the flow and listen to whatever he had to say–no matter how unimportant I felt that might be. Vlad knew what he was talking about. And in the end, things turned out okay.

It’s different with Dillon. It’s as if he’s a dull, spoiled kid that doesn’t give a fig about telling me his story–his eyes glaze over if I ask him what he wants to talk about. He’s not troubled by the horrible things he’s experiencing…whereas Vlad is troubled simply by being Vlad. I can’t help a kid who doesn’t want to be helped. (And I have a sneaking suspicion that Dillon hates me…I mean, hey, why not just dive straight into schizophrenic paranoia while I’m at it?)

So I’m doing something difficult–something I’ve been spending hours in front of my keyboard trying to avoid. I’m putting my work-in-progress aside.

Not forever…but for a while. I need time to cool off and Dillon needs time to…you know, I’m not sure what Dillon needs. But I am sure about one thing.

I’m finishing Ninth Grade Sucks.