Brittany Maresh

writer

My current WIP features several brilliant methods of taking over the world. These are a few of the rejected ideas:

1. Train ants to pick people up and dump them in the ocean. Clear entire continents this way. Brilliant: ants are strong and all over the world. Yay, plentiful minions! Not brilliant: they’re not very smart, and you’re human-shaped. Hope you like salt water.
2. Deforestationinator. Delete forests until the masses bow to your whims. Brilliant: We sort of need forests. Not brilliant: We sort of need forests.
3. Flood the oceans. Melt the polar ice caps unless people agree to do your bidding. Brilliant: raising the water levels could totally cause problems and stuff. That’s why we’re all so down on global warming, right? Not brilliant: I hope you know how to swim. Or own a really, really nice boat. Maybe mountain land? That could do.
4. Subliminal messages in a catchy dance tune. Brilliant: you now control the youths of the nations. Not brilliant: They’re still not very motivated and don’t really have very practiced technical skills. Good luck holding their attention for very long, either.
5. Squirrel army. Brilliant: Unlike mice, they have manual dexterity. Like mice, they’re good at infiltration. Also, they’re edible, should you need to make an example of someone. Not brilliant: I mean, really? Is this Willy Wonka? Nobody is going to take you seriously. Not even after you’ve taken all the access codes, cleared their bases, and infected them all with some deadly squirrel-transported virus.

Other rejected ideas included the goldfish network, shrinking the moon, and finding some fish called Nemo. Also, bringing back the dinosaurs, but we want to rule the world, not make ourselves into lunch.

In short, I’m having a good time with this writing thing. I recommend it to anyone who absolutely cannot give it up no matter how hard they try.

I know a lot of people are going to write about how amazing the Team StarKid Funtastic Slamaganza For Charity was.  And I’m not going to even go there — it was my favorite, of all the shows I’ve been to, which admittedly is only a few, and I loved it.

But sick kids and hospitals are both things that really get to me, so that’s what I’m going to write about.  The “For Charity” part of the show.  Lame, I know, but that’s how I roll or something.

See, I work all summer with some of the most amazing kids you’ll ever meet, out at the archery range at a camp.  I had the misfortune of rooming with the medic my first six years at camp, right next to the medic station, so I got to meet every sick, dying, and medicated child in camp, everyone with an oxygen tank, a daily injection…

And especially the ones I met my first year out there, they just made a huge impact on me.

Of all of them, though, Steve* was the one who I thought of, at the Slamaganza. The kid who even all these years later, talking about makes me feel like crying.  I’m not going to lie – when they showed a video about the charity at the event, when they had these tiny children all hooked up to oxygen and IVs, all I could think about was Steve, and that just choked me up like none other.  I didn’t cry – I don’t cry – but I could feel that familiar sensation, like someone driving a nail into my heart. I couldn’t look at the paintings they were auctioning, or at the screen with images they had next to it, or even any of the charity information, because of Steve, and my sister’s cancer-ridden fiancé, and my ex-boss, who is just starting his cancer treatment.

Steve’s not the only sick kid we’ve ever had come to our camp. Or the only one to die.  But he was special to me, and I was special to him, and some people you just don’t forget.

He had CF, and in the mornings he’d come down to the med station, sit with this vibrating vest on to clear up his lungs, hooked up to all these things.  He’d laugh and make jokes even though it had to have hurt, and he was really just this radiant kid. I don’t even know if I can explain how very warm he was, just, to everyone, even when he was hooked up to oxygen while other kids were coming in just to bandage a scrape

One year he came to camp and he was just so sad. I’d never seen this kid really down before, but I swear, the look was like someone had skinned his puppy and made him eat it for breakfast. Just, heartbreaking.

He came over to me and hugged me right around the waist, and said that it was his last year at camp, and this kid, he was maybe nine, and just short as anything, and I swear I could hear his heart ripping itself into pieces,

They were moving for his health, they were moving to somewhere warm and dry. It was supposed to be better for his lungs, for his life. He was supposed to get to grow up, and send us post cards about how he was doing, and so we spent all our spare time telling him about how amazing it was going to be, where he was going. How much fun he’d have, how the new people and place would be this amazing adventure. We were all looking forward to hearing from him, and sending him postcards of our own, and I don’t think there was a person on staff that didn’t just adore him.

There’s this one open program time when I’m not back at my archery range. I hung out at the craft station making beaded necklaces with the kids, and he spent the entire time there, working on this ridiculous necklace, with every pretty thing he could find, all strung together in knots and lines. It was hideous, but he put so much love into it, so much time, he just thought it was the best thing anyone had ever made, and I think that was infectious, because now I think it’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.

I thought he was making it for his mother, or a sister, but at the end of the week he gave it to me, and told me every bead was for a happy time we’d spent together at camp, and he went through and he told me about all the memories he had, even things that to me were nothing – the time I let him cut in the lunch line, the time I gave him a hi-five walking up the stairs.

He made me promise I’d remember him, and all the happy times, and not be sad because he was going to grow up, and come back and visit us some day.

We gave him the camp address, so he could send us post cards, and we all said goodbye, and he gave me this stupid letter, about how he was going to love archery at his next camp, but that it wouldn’t be the same without me, and so he would like it a little less, and just thinking about it is making my hands shake a little, because as stupid as it all is, as dumb as it is, and as long as it has been…

We got a phone call not long after camp that summer, and even writing this much, even just thinking about it as far as this, it kills me.  Steve passed away while on a camping trip, before ever leaving Alaska. His parents were always so, so careful. He always had everything he needed – so much more – but they left out one thing, one vital, life-saving thing, and he didn’t make it to the hospital. His lungs couldn’t handle it, and he passed away, out on an adventure.

His parents called to thank us, because the one thing he spent his last few years talking about the most was how happy we made him out at camp, and how much he cared for all of us. He worried about us, about us not having fun without him, about us being sad he was gone.

We were a bright moment in his life, and even if it does make me cry like an idiot when I think about it, I still have his necklace, and the goodbye letter her wrote me.

So the Slamaganza, For Charity.  As fun as it was, as amazing as it was, I’m not going to talk about it. Possibly ever. Because if I think too hard about why we were there, and what Team StarKid was raising money for, I’ll cry again.

And honestly, crying makes me feel like such an idiot.

*names changed to ensure I get to keep my job – because let’s face it, I love it.

Full disclosure, I had major eye surgeries from infancy up through sixth grade. I hate hospitals and I’m glad people are making an effort to make them less sucktastic for children. Here’s a link to Snow City Arts, the charity in question: http://www.snowcityarts.com/home.html Take a look at it, maybe donate something.

So I was going to write about LeakyCon. About seeing Evanna Lynch in person (she’s flawless), about seeing Beverly and Lindsay and Brianna (who were my roomies last year), about meeting the amazing songbird Genevieve (she’s from Australia), about going to the panel on Pottermore (but not about Pottermore — just bragging, I suppose), about CityWalk at night with my friends, and wrock music concerts, about Karina (a contradiction — she is popular, and nerdy, and friendly, and has such a heart, she doesn’t seem real, she’s so grand), about lunch in the Three Broomsticks, butterbeer, seeing Team StarKid and Corey Lubowich, about changing a tire at the con (and the person who would think it’s a good idea to walk up and go, “hey, you’re from Alaska, we met yesterday, can you change a tire?), about the dealer’s room, and Alaska Kedavra, and the t-shirts, about the Esther Earl Charity Ball (and my dress, which I didn’t make), about the feeling of belonging, about the Green Brothers (so much taller in real life) and Maureen Johnson (well, everyone’s tall compared to me, anyway). About reading an ARC (Australia had won it), and HP7.2, the awkward Draco-Voldie hug, lines, and Conflict Resolution.
There’s so much I was going to write about, so much I felt I had to share before I ran out of memories, and words, and the right time to share it..

But I’m not going to, right now. I’m going to risk losing it. Because this novel is begging to be finished, and the words are flowing easy today, and I have half an hour before I go back to teaching archery.

Don’t let the muggles get you down(1). This star won’t go out(2). You’re the part of me that makes me better wherever I go(3). We don’t need to say goodbye(4).

Pretty sure y’all get the idea by this point(5) — LeakyCon 2011 was full of all those little phrases you say to make things seem better, or to help you cope with being a Harry Potter nerd in a non-nerd-centric community.

Only they were all meaningful, and full of heart, and somehow they actually make things better even when four thousand miles from where we heard them, all thrown over the globe in weird places.

I woke up this morning thinking, “it’s not over yet.” Also, “where are my glasses(6)?” but mostly just that LeakyCon 2011 is not really over, even if I am all the way back in Alaska. Leakycon’s technically done, sure, but the friendships and connections we’ve made? They’re still there.

Leaky to me was reconnecting with people I already love, and making new friends. It’s over, but right right now? I can’t help but smile.

I’m working on a longer post about the convention, about what went on, who I saw, what I bought. There will probably be pictures, maybe some videos. For now, though, I’m going to go climb up a mountain and teach archery to small children, sans my glasses.  Be afraid. (7)

(1) Remus Lupins t-shirt

(2) This Star Won’t Go Out Foundation

(3) and (4) Days of Summer from AVPS by TeamStarKid (yup, it’s stuck in my head – no wonder, given I heard it so many times this past week).

(5) There were a lot of other ones, but I’m pretty sure my brain was swapped for Audrey II seedlings some time before I left Orlando.

(6) I’m only 90% sure I had them in the Orlando airport. Beyond that? I really don’t remember what I’ve done with them. Maybe I left them at Hogwarts. Or Salt Lake City. Or in my brother’s car last night, when he picked me up from the airport. If only accio glasses worked in real life.

(7) It’s not really very far up the mountain, and the arrows aren’t sharp or anything. And the kids are like, six to eleven, so they’re not super-super young…

EDIT: Too tired to fix all my links, so I’m just going to fix the important ones. The inter-post links are just going to stay gone. Sorry!

I’ve been going to karaoke with my friends on Thursdays, and I’ve discovered two things:
Most of my friends sing well and the music I listen to is not karaoke music. Neither of these things are startling revelations, to be honest. I get all my music from my four weird siblings, and my friends are the sort of people who, y’know, go to karaoke.

My current “top five” are all a little different, but they work for what I’ve been writing lately. I was going to make some argument about it not really being representative of the novel I’m currently working on, because the novel itself is weird, but I think that would probably be a lie no matter when I was saying it.

I re-set my song plays every so often, because for whatever reason the top played song get played more frequently. Here are my current top five played songs, with 15 plays in the past two weeks:

• Help Me by Alkaline Trio
• Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been by Reliant K
• Secrets by One Republic
• Spaceman by The Killers
• Certain Tragedy by Saves the Day

Take from that what you will, because just looking at that list, I have to wonder what sort of monster I’m currently writing. Yikes.
-Bri Maresh

Lines Written in Awe of the Theropoda

Sharp gnashy teeth,
In a fat head,
With stubby little arms,
And giant stompy feet.

Oh, theropoda,
You’re the prettiest thing,
I have ever seen.

-B.M.

I may or may not have ordered the dinosaur hoodie from Thinkgeek that will turn my arms into the jaws of a t-rex.

Confession: I run into things. A lot. And I have a hard time crossing the street, because I get really nervous about where things are compared to where I think they are, and sometimes it takes me a little too long to figure out where the cars are going to be given how fast they must be traveling, and quite possibly before I’m actually aware of what I’m doing, I’m panicking a little.

Or a lot.

It’s not a big problem, here in Alaska. And when it’s going to be, I usually have a buddy to keep me out of trouble.

In Chicago?

Oh my Gundam.

I think this probably makes me a really difficult person to deal with, on a day-to-day basis, I feel really… defective, I guess, following people around because I don’t trust my own judgment about where I am in relation to the world around me.

Here, everyone knows I’m a little bit of a basket case, and that if you walk up to me just the right way I will probably cringe or apologize profusely. Down with the lemniscates, my Harry Potter fan group from Infinitus 2010, I at least like to pretend I’m normal.

Even then, it often feels like I’m trying to remember how to speak a language I never learned, every time I visit.

I got off the flight and fled for Ashley, trying to not run into anyone, but she wasn’t there yet. We’d gotten in early, and being the tough Alaskan I am, I stood outside, watching for her car. It wasn’t cold, at first, but then she got lost at the airport, and it took a little longer than I expected.

Pretty sure I was on my way to popsicle by the time she showed. But it was all okay, because she found me, and we got

… um.

Some fast food stuff.

From a place.

Honestly, you all have so many! How do you keep them straight?

Then we checked into an inn, and fifteen seconds, it was day again. Wait, no, that’s the Cloud Song. Yeah, I have it stuck in my head today, sorry.

We crashed at Ashley’s, and plotted to wake up early for an epic adventure of museums and aquariums and Team Starkid’s Starship. Also, there was a ThinkGeek beaker-glass late Christmas, which went perfectly with the lab coat Lemniscates Sea and Bonnie conspired to get me.  I’m pretty sure they’re okay with my planning to take over the world. Or they’re trying to bribe me into giving them Australia, whichever.

The next day we had grand plans to meet up with people at the Field Museum, do lunch in their food court, and then head to the Shedd until 4:00, when we’d attempt to cross town during rush hour to get me to the theater in time to see StarShip, by myself because none of the other Lemniscates felt like coming out to the show, except Megan, who is a miracle and a half, but I’m getting ahead of myself right now.

I wanted to see the Adler Planetarium, Legoland, and the Museum of Science and Industry, but there wasn’t time for everything, so I just went with Ashley’s recommendation. That and, hey, dinosaurs. How can you possibly have a bad day, when your day includes real dinosaurs?

Angela was the first big surprise of the trip. She’s in a Harry Potter Chicago-based fan group with Ashley, and she was easily the most adorable person I met the entire time I was there. And I’m pretty sure I was at least introduced to a lot of people, so that says something.

Angela knew the museum better than Ashley, so with a little prodding (okay, a lot) I got her to lead us about. But first, I spent about ten minutes babbling about how amazing Sue the T-Rex was. Conspiracy, I say, putting the dinosaur right in the entryway, where it can trap unsuspecting Alaskans like myself.

I was somewhat tired (okay, we were all dead tired), so instead of going to the Evolving Planet exhibit, we first went through the Americas exhibit. Plus, hey, I wanted to see everything.

It was interactive, complete with mini-games and touch screens, but half of them didn’t work. It’s probably a good thing, because we spent a lot of time there. We would have spent more, but the last half of the exhibit was Alaskan native materials, and my interest in Alaskan history is pretty low, given the amount of time and the number of classes I’ve already spent on that particular topic.

The Evolving Worlds exhibit was great. Angela adorably hopped over every mass extinction. I may or may not have stomped over them, cackling madly. Somehow I think this is probably less adorable.

After the dinosaurs (I think I spent an hour staring at the Apatosaurus), we swung by the Egypt section of the museum to see the haunted mummy, a figure that security guards say moves its head off center during the night, all on its own, and has been known to throw itself about. It was freaky, but more in the “you could be that in very little time if you’re not careful crossing the streets” sort of way than in the “haunted mummy, oh my gosh,” sort of way.

Besides, it’s not like it was shuffling about the halls trying to strangle people.

I may or may not have sung “Killing the baby seals” while skipping down a flight of stairs as we left the museum for our next destination.

I maintain that it’s a perfectly legitimate camp song.

I’m not sure I can say enough cool things about the museum, but my mind was flat blown away by the Shedd Aquarium.

I had no idea you could pack that much life into a building of that size. I mean, I’ve been to an aquarium in every major city I’ve ever been to (except ours, here in Alaska. I somehow have neglected that, oops), and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a variety of aquatic creatures.

We may or may not have stalled on the jellies, leaving us very little time to flee from the aquarium to the theater.
We took Angela to her bus stop, anyway, because we would have felt mean if we hadn’t. Besides, I wasn’t really ready to say goodbye to her yet.

That’s the thing about only visiting my friends, instead of living near them. I feel like I’m always saying goodbye.

We headed to the theater, listening to music I’d never heard, talking about our crazy friends – Spain (both of them), Bonnie, Megan, Chel, the Lemniscates.

Bonnie and Ashley both opted out of seeing StarShip because they didn’t want to have to deal with screaming fan girls. Legitimately, they pack in so tightly you can’t take a step without running to someone. On the other hand, it strikes me as sad to think you would think that you couldn’t go see something you love because other people will be behaving like, well, screaming fangirls.

Anyway, when we got there, Ashley felt like she was running late, I got no cell service, and I realized I’d forgotten to get Megan’s phone number off of Facebook. No big, right?

Except that I’ve met the girl one time, and I’m really bad at finding people, and I was pretty sure she was only putting up with me out of a sense of obligation (and because everyone else bailed on me, after having been horrified by fan behavior at a previous play they went and saw in Ann Arbor).

I knew Megan was in Whole Foods, so I wandered there, trying to find her. I was pretty near to tears when I ran into a Ravenclaw outside heading to the theater and convinced her to take pity on me and help me find Megan.

We struck up a conversation wherein I went, “Hi! I’m from Alaska! I’m supposed to meet a friend, but my cell broke, and I can’t find her, and you look like you’re going the same place I am!” and she went “um, yeah, let’s go!” and then turned out to have been part of Megan’s group of friends in the first place.

We found Megan, and just like magic, all the terror of being alone in a big city without a functioning cell phone or a single friend vanished.

Funny, how that works.

Beyond Megan, the only other person I was vaguely socially aware of previously was Corey Lubowich, scenic design guy for the play and strange Infinitus 2010 acquaintance (is there a word for “person you know the name of, who may or may not know your name, who you find amusing in a Twitterville sort of way, but mostly just try not to annoy?” Acquaintance is really too strong a word, here).

I won the nonexistent prize for “flew the farthest,” before it was stolen away by Australia the next night. I was okay with it at the time, but retrospectively, I really need to stop going to StarKid shows a million miles from home. It makes me feel like a little bit of a creeper, instead of a former theater geek with close friends (The Lemniscates!) that live in Michigan, Chicago, and Florida.

Especially when said friends ditch out on me.

My “friends” (read: Megan’s friends) chose to sit in the front row, right in front of the stage (and the girl three seats over kept putting her feet on the stage – do I have to express my inner cringe?).

On one hand, this made everything a whole lot bigger.  On the other hand, I wondered more than once if someone wouldn’t miss their mark and fall off stage. Not that I’ve ever seen THAT happen before (Winni-the-Pooh at VPA, anyone? I’m pretty sure only an act of god kept those of us who were part of the custard from rolling off stage during The Clumsy Custard), right?

Part of me really loved StarShip.

I laughed the entire time, scene one up to a few moments before the very end when I realized all the plot threads they’d thrown out weren’t going to be resolved, at least not in this one play. The antagonist that served as the final boss was more like a mini-boss and the final boss never took the stage. The heroes didn’t get to bring down the ultimate evil, and for whatever reason, it felt more like a dropped plot thread than a “just wait until next time!” I suppose there’s only so much you can do when you basically throw down an Evil League of Evil.

Dylan Saunders played Ursula meets Oogie Boogie, and totally blew me away. It went so far beyond what I’d seen from him at AVPS, I can’t even begin to say how amazing it was.

The puppets were really great, too. And then there were the sci-fi and video game jokes, like the character who was a dead ringer for Solid Snake, or the reference to Gundams, or to Vasquez from Aliens, and I could probably go on, but I won’t.  In short, the play was awesome.

I bought merchandise – a shirt, a hoodie, some buttons. I listened to little girls go on and on about how in love they were. And I failed at conversation, big time, because sometimes that happens to me.

Then some poor fan dropped her freshly purchased “I heart StarKid” button, and I thought… oh, that’s just really sad.

I work with kids in the summer, and I don’t know if I can impress upon you how something small like that can just crush them, and ruin their day. It was such a great day, the idea of anyone having a bad day just killed me.

So I did the big girl scout thing and tried to turn it in to the lost and found. I don’t need to tell you how ridiculous this idea was, and retrospectively, I’m an idiot.  At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Megan got lost in the crowd, off with her friends, and I wasn’t about to try and navigate a swarm of people at that point, so I fled before the cast members even really got out to greet the audience.

Which, well, I was there for the play, not to mob the actors.

I couldn’t get to the elevator, so I took the stairs, and then realized my phone still wasn’t working, I had no idea where Ashley was, and it was actually a little cold outside.  Insert more mad panic, and possibly dark muttering while resisted the urge to throw my cell phone, and instead held it up and prayed to get even one or two bars.

Ashley found me before I ever found reception. She’s pretty good at that, I guess.

We then followed the GPS through bad neighborhoods to get to the bus station to pick up my Bonnie.

Bonnie and Bri: A Brief History

I’m a little bit of a geek. No, wait, a lot a bit of a geek. So when I decided I’d be going to Florida for Infinitus 2010 (after my friends in Boston expressed interest), I went to the forums to make friends.

I found Bonnie. Nerdly, patient, nice, and looking to game the ticket request lotto-style drawing for AVPS by getting our names in the pot as many times as possible.

Working together, we concocted a strange mathematical deceit wherein siblings and friends submitted ticket requests. We’d known each other for days, and I’m pretty sure neither of us thought we would actually get the tickets.

And then we did. And I flew down to Michigan to meet Bonnie for the first time, and to see AVPS, but meeting Bonnie has probably had a bigger impact on my strange little life.

At the bus station, Bonnie waited, only a bag for her luggage. She didn’t need much – we were going to bus to her home near Detroit the next day, anyway, after a trip to Legoland. Turns out, if you stay up too late talking and watching silly movies, you don’t wake up in time to go to Legoland. In fact, you make the bus, but only just.

During the bus ride, Bonnie and I spent half the time bickering back and forth like we always do. The rest of the time, she was reading my novel. I don’t know if I need to try and explain how very anxiety-prone artists are, having their work critiqued by someone they adore.  I may or may not have told her to shut up more than fifty times. Also, I feel bad for the guy sitting across from us, even if he did think we were the most hilarious invention, ever.

One night at Bonnie’s house, wherein we played a survival board game and had an amazing dinner, stayed up late talking, and basically just goofed around, and then I was back on the bus heading for Chicago and my flight home.

I tried to decide, the whole way home, if it had been worth the money, and the time, and the stress that it created for everyone.  It’s a few days later, and I’m still not sure, but I know I want to go back as soon as I can.

EDIT: Mop pointed me towards my bigger dilema — I’m a fangirl (as if there was any doubt in Nyeusigrube about that), but I’m not the kind to glomp.  In fact, I’m the sort that turns and runs the second people start glomping.  Yes, this is a problem for me, especially at conferences, live shows, and other social settings.

Also, I pretend my visual impairment doesn’t bother the heck out of me, when in truth sometimes it actually is a legitimate impairment.  I don’t think I like being reminded of that.

Lauren Oliver’s Before I Fall is a book to swallow whole, to devour quickly, and then to re-read more slowly. Honestly, I can’t believe this is (as I’m assured by multiple sources online) her “debut” novel. The writing itself is beautiful, and I didn’t once think the voice was faltering. Perhaps I’m too generous, but I was really lured in by the voice of the main character, Sam.
Far from perfect, Sam’s that girl you all know, and you all hate – pretty, popular, cruel, and unrepentant. Before I Fall is a shockingly vivid and insightful look at how she comes apart during the course of the book, finding layers underneath she didn’t know she was capable of having, while she relives a day that ends in her own death, seven times.

Sam isn’t the only compelling character in this story .
We meet Juliet, a social reject teetering on the edge. And her sister, a beautiful, interesting character waiting to be squished.

Izzy, who is Sam’s sister but more awkward and independent than any third grader has a right to be.

Kent, the world’s most dorky, adorable, and altogether heartbreakingly neglected good guy. He’s far too good for Sam, from page one, and even though I was dead set against liking his character, I couldn’t help it–I can see people I know in him, and people I don’t appreciate enough, day to day, too.

Lindsay rounds out the important cast by being the “bad” guy, the popular girl who helped forge Sam into what she is in the beginning: a mean girl.

The story itself is tightly written, a fast-paced story despite repeating the same day several times (to varying results). Each day takes us further into the picture, shows us more about the characters, and changes Sam, as well as our perception of the people she’s already cast judgment on.

I’m not sure it’s really my sort of book. I probably won’t hold on to it (if only because it’s so much easier to get people to read books if you give them to them). But it’ll stick with me, I think, at least for a while.

It’s not perfect, but it’s powerful.

Read this book.

Disclosure: I picked up this book because I saw the cover and thought “huh, it’s about a dead girl.” Also, because I have been hunting for ghosts, and I was craving a dead girl story. More of the ghostly kind, like Bad Girls Don’t Die than the sad kind, like Lurlene McDaniels. This book was neither, and shocked me in ways I couldn’t have predicted.
Further disclosure: I tried to find it on the shelves, because let’s face it, that cover is haunting, and they didn’t have it. I had to ask the book lady to get it for me. She couldn’t find it in the computer, but that darn cover, it was so striking she remembered it, too, and was (fortunately) able to find it for me. Yes, this is why I like my local bookstore ladies.
Some books you bring home from the bookstore, you read a few pages, you wander away to do chores, you come back, you read a bit more, you maybe go have dinner, finish the book in a day or two.
It was really worth the effort, though. The book is fantastic.

When I was little, I was so excited about Thanksgiving Dinner. I loved it — everyone gathered around, we all talked, the whole family was there, and we had all my favorite foods, including home made pie and whipped cream from a can. Before that, we watched the parade on TV and feasted on orange danishes. We watched the dog show, after, and everyone was together, and laughing, and really happy.

Now, I see another side to Thanksgiving: the hours spent in the kitchen, the frustration of overcooking something, of having to wait for one thing to make another, of having to do endless dishes because really, who has twelve mixing bowls? It’s about trying to find room for sixteen people around a table designed for six, and a lot more frustration in trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings.

For me, the night before Thanksgiving is a lot better, now. I watch movies with my family while pies bake, we discuss what we’re thankful for, we have a different sort of fun.  This year, my mom made four pies completely from scratch: two pumpkin, two apple. She made a fifth, cherry, but the filling for that came in a can.

Tonight, my brother and I were watching Doctor Who, the New Adventures, season four finale. There was this quiet moment where the character had to decide how much he was willing to give up to get what he wanted, and my brother pointed out that those were the moments that Russell T. Davies and Joss Whedon were so famous for. There’s this moment where sacrifice has to be made, where the character has to give as much as he’s willing, in order to get what he wants.

It’s heartbreaking, and beautifully done, and something a lot of writers just don’t have the skill to pull off.  Some of my favorite books work because the author is able to push the main character into that crisis moment, and find a resolution that involves a high sacrifice, and a higher pay-off.

In television, Whedon and Davies are the two writers I see that insane mastery from the most (and that’s a good thing — if more writers played on that balance, I’d watch way too much television).  They’re a lot better than I am, better than I hope to be.  In books, I can name a good half-dozen examples, including masters like King, and this year’s most inspiring (to me) new author, Seanan McGuire.

I’m pretty sure the apparently instinctive awareness of that balance is something I’ll always admire, and something I’ll always struggle to work towards, myself.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough to get it right, even most of the time, but it’s something I try to look out for in my own work and something I try to remember to comment on when I’m doing critique work for other people.

I was really glad my brother pointed it out — having something to keep striving for, and writers who keep inspiring me, is something that I am thankful for.  I really hope that some day my own work can make people want to be better, too, and I’m thankful for the chance to try and achieve that goal, too.

But mostly, I suppose, I’m thankful for the quiet moments with my family before the insanity of all the baking starts in the morning.

Much love and a happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Sincerely,

Brittany Maresh

P.S. It’s 1:00 a.m.  I’ll try to remember to edit this for coherency and grammar and what not later, but I make no promises.

My friend wanted the Donna Noble dress from Doctor Who Season Four Epsidoe Two, The Fires of Pompeii.  It’s a really pretty purple gown with gold embellishment.  I opted to do a full lining, though the pattern I bought did not recommend it.

Challenge: $40 spending limit.

Here are two of the reference photo I used (screencapped by the dress’s final owner, from Doctor Who, Season 4, Episode 2, The Fires of Pompeii):

Donna Noble Pompeii Dress in under $40
MATERIAL COSTS:

• 2 spools gold ribbon $5/2 on sale
• 5 yards fabric @ 4.00/yd on sale ($20)
• Thread $2 on sale
• Pattern $12 on sale

TOTAL COST: $39
I used McCall’s 2954 as a base pattern for this fantastic dress. I had to change the neck lines and sleeves, as Donna’s dress has a v-neck back and a v-neck front, as well as ungathered close-fitted sleeves. I also added the gold details at the neck and waist, as well as back details, including a folded ruffle that ran long-ways down the back. I had to play with the gathering on the back ruffle, as well as move some seams (including under-bust seams, which fell too high on the original dress), but I’m over all happy with the results.  The modifications were fairly straightforward.  The back details were the most difficult, but I molded the folding of the fabric off of Vogue’s Tom and Linda Platt V2847 (out of print) which I used as a base pattern for a wedding last July.

TOTAL TIME: 3.5 hours, including shopping.

Pictures of the final product are pending arrival at their home in the states, as I had no suitable sized models locally.