WriteOnCon 2013

If you haven't already heard, WriteOnCon 2013 is COMING. Next Week. August 13th and 14th to be exact. If you haven't joined us before, this is YOUR year.

Our faculty is incredible and the wealth of information blows are collective minds. You will learn, you will connect, you will LOVE.

Click here to read a little about how WriteOnCon came to be and check out our lovely sponsors of the Aspiring Writer's Competition, The Reading Room. The contest is better than ever this year with the chance to win one of 3 monetary prizes. If you have a finished MG, YA or NA manuscript, you have no excuse! ENTER!
 

Earn a key, join the W.A.R.

By preordering a copy of THIS IS W.A.R., not only will you get a beautiful key necklace, but you'll officially be a member of the W.A.R.! So, what are you waiting for?!

ONE WEEK TO GO. AHHHH!

I'll Be Seeing You

It all begins with a letter.

"I hope this letter gets to you quickly. We are always waiting, aren't we? Perhaps the greatest gift this war has given us is the anticipation…"

It's January 1943 when Rita Vincenzo receives her first letter from Glory Whitehall. Glory is an effervescent young mother, impulsive and free as a bird. Rita is a sensible professor's wife with a love of gardening and a generous, old soul. Glory comes from New England society; Rita lives in Iowa, trying to make ends meet. They have nothing in common except one powerful bond: the men they love are fighting in a war a world away from home.

Brought together by an unlikely twist of fate, Glory and Rita begin a remarkable correspondence. The friendship forged by their letters allows them to survive the loneliness and uncertainty of waiting on the home front, and gives them the courage to face the battles raging in their very own backyards. Connected across the country by the lifeline of the written word, each woman finds her life profoundly altered by the other's unwavering support.

A collaboration of two authors whose own beautiful story mirrors that on the page, I'll Be Seeing You is a deeply moving union of style and charm. Filled with unforgettable characters and grace, it is a timeless celebration of friendship and the strength

and solidarity of women.

If you haven't already done so, go ahead and place an order, head to the store, BUY THIS BOOK. It is a stunning collection of letters between two women and will leave you with something so valuable and often rare these days. Hope.

Congratulations to Loretta and Suzy. We are so incredibly proud of all you have accomplished and can't wait to see what happens next!

Happy Mother's Day

From time to time I’ll be struck by a moment. It’s usually something completely ordinary—tickling my daughter to get a belly laugh, the “hi” we get from James every morning when we open his door, my husband reading books before bedtime. I memorize the way her eyes crinkle, his tiny fingers gripping the chewed up crib rail, the two pairs of feet side by side in Lydia’s twin bed. And I’m positive I’ll remember, force myself to etch it and save it and treasure it and pull all of those ordinary moments back up when my kids are too big to be held and too busy to play and too cool for their old mom.

 

I have a bunch of them saved up, in between all the other not-so-fond memories I’ve pushed to the bottom—the morning stress sessions and fights to get out the door on time, the if-you-don’t-get-your-hands-off-your-brother-I’ll-I’ll-I’ll…, the time outs and tears and failures. But luckily the good prevails and the kids sleep. I peek in every night and gaze longingly at their innocent little sleeping faces to erase all of the challenges of the day and no matter what morning brings (James digging through cupboards, Lydia’s aggressive passionate love, disconnections, misunderstandings, exhaustion), they are peaceful and sweet and perfect.

 

Being a mom is not an easy job. I never knew guilt until I became a mom. I never truly appreciated my mom and how hard she worked, how much she loved us, how much she taught me until I became a mom. I never knew pressure until I became a mom. But I would have it no other way. Happy Mother’s Day. Here's to all of those perfectly, ordinary moments ahead.

 

 

Being Humble is for Suckers (and a giveaway)

Here's how 99% of conversations go when someone finds out I'm a writer:

Random person: So, what do you do?

Me: Oh, um, well, I'm a writer. I mean, kind of. Not really. It's not a big deal though.

Random person: What do you write?

Me: Oh, well, books. I mean, books for teenage girls. Not like, award winning books. Just books.

Random person: Are you self-published?

Me: No, we, uh, have people who publish our books.

Random person: So I can buy your book online?

Me: You could if you wanted to, but you're really not the target market, I mean it's probably not something you'd like or whatever.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Those Roeckers. They're so confident. So cool. So calm. So collected.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I completely unable to have a conversation where I'm proud of myself for achieving something incredible, something many people say they want to do some day but never quite get there? Why am I selling myself short?

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've probably read about Sheryl Sandberg's fascinating book, Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead. I've read most of her press and finally started reading the book and it's absolutely fascinating. I'm so guilty of all the things she talks about that are holding women back. I am extremely uncomfortable taking credit for my accomplishments and I desperately want everyone to like me.

But that stops now. Or at least I'm going to try to force myself to stop. (Ok fine, I still really want you guys to like me. You like me, right? I'm likable? If there's something I'm doing that makes you hate me, just tell me, I'll totally stop. Oh my God, I am Sheryl Sandberg's worst nightmare.)

You see, we've written a young adult mystery called This Is W.A.R. And we love it because it's our own tiny little [Editorial note from Laura: You're kidding with this, right?] [Editorial note from Lisa: Nope, totally not kidding. Sheryl is probably openly weeping by now.] manifesto about a group of girls who rally against the patriarchy at their country club. There are threads of feminism and female empowerment woven through, threads we hope young readers will pick up and follow, threads we hope will trigger thought and debate.

Can we all take a moment to admire the cover please? Because it really is gorgeous, right? And wait until you read the book. It's beyond perfect. Big, huge, mega thanks to Soho Teen for taking so much time to get it exactly right. Does the cover make you like me more or less? What? Not relevant? Crap.

And yet, I can't even admit to strangers that I'm proud of our books.

I'm done being humble. I love our books. I'm PROUD of all of our accomplishments as writers. Writing is hard, getting published is even harder. The truth is we are insanely, stupidly, intensely proud of THIS IS W.A.R. We poured over every word with our amazing editor, Dan Ehrenhaft. We've exchanged an absurd amount of emails with our amazing publicist, Meredith Barnes, about the cover, the marketing, the PR. We have written a book that we'd love to read.

Humor is a huge coping mechanism for us. We spend a LOT of time laughing about our D-List status in the publishing world and truthfully, it really is kind of funny. We have always taken pride in not taking ourselves too seriously, but the reality is, no one is going to take our books seriously unless we start taking ourselves seriously.

*cue ominous music*

So this is it. This is us taking ourselves seriously. This Is W.A.R. will be available July 2nd, but you can sign up to host a spot on the blog tour today. We hope you'll read it. We hope you'll love it. We hope you'll want to talk about it. But more than anything, we hope you'll learn from our mistakes. Whether you're published or agented or a complete newbie, own your status as a writer (or a reader, or a mom, or a CFO, or whatever). Take pride in what you do. You owe it to women, you owe it to your fellow writers, you owe it to yourself.

P.S.
Want to win an ARC of This Is W.A.R.? This is probably the only one we'll be giving away on the blog, so add the book to your Goodreads list or post an update on social media about the book and leave a comment here to enter. We can't wait to share this book with you guys. WE ARE PROUD, dammit.

P.P.S.
If you want to leave a comment on my likability factor, I'm totally cool with that too. [Editorial Note from Laura: Nice try Lisa, Good thing I read this one last time before posting. Sorry, Sheryl. We're working on it. Pinky promise.]

Happy Birthday Laura!

32 years of marathon phone conversations, promises, catty comments, secrets, fights, crazy ideas, terrible outfits, questionable decisions, adverbs, books, wine, marathon phone conversations, tears happy and sad, laughter, fun, lies, disappointment, excitement, chaos, debriefs, bad movies, terrible television, dreams, hopes, kids, near misses, perfect catches, alibis, boyfriends, husbands, dads, moms, in-laws, emails, texts, beer pong, vacations, failed tennis matches, peed pants, pouting, terrible driving, bad casual French, stinky clogs, staring contests, paging Dr. Nino, Make-Me-Laugh, Singers Anonymous, terrible jobs, crap cars, rejection, best friends and...SISTERS.

I have no idea what I'd do without you and Stacey.

This is the only picture ever taken where I'm cuter than you.

Happy Birthday.

My Darling Daughter - A Brief Study in Lydia

My daughter is a character. She eats only when she wants to eat--every other day on average. She greets Lisa's sarcasm with elegant disdain. She's crazy smart. She's an amazing friend.

Lydia has a good heart, but her own agenda. If she is interested in you, she can't shut up. When she and her cousins get together, there is a constant stream of chatter and giggles. They have a ball together. But she does not appreciate conversation with strangers which makes public outings...interesting.

I took Lydia out the day after Christmas for some deal hunting. Truthfully, I'm not a huge fan of strangers stopping us and asking questions or commenting either.

It's very rarely, "Oh my, what delightfully well behaved children!"

Oh no, it's usually something like "Wow, someone looks tired!"

Or the ever popular, "Are they ok?"

I'm always so tempted to respond to that one with something along the lines of, "Well, we're not really sure since they haven't developed pysychological testing for sociopaths under 5 just yet."

I love my kids, but the grim reality is that you never know what you're going to get with a one-year-old and a four-year-old when you go to Target. Honestly, I just wish people would avoid eye contact as they would with a pack of wild animals and keep on moving. I'm usually too busy  whisper-yelling or desperately opening whatever snack items we're supposed to be buying to make small talk about my children's perceived behavioral issues. Especially the day after Christmas. But that didn't stop a kind, old lady from stopping us at the grocery store. I'm sure she meant well.

Geriatric Woman: "Hello, young lady."

Lydia: *blank stare*

Me: *sweating* "Lydia, what do we say when someone says hello?"

Lydia: (sounding like she'd rather have someone pull her fingernails out individually than acknowledge the kind geriatric. "Hello."

Geriatric Woman: "What did Santa bring for you?"

Lydia: *blank stare* *slow blinks*

Me: *sweating more* "Lydia, what do we do when someone asks you a question?"

Editorial note: There were a few more seconds of silence here and in retrospect if I'd been paying close attention, I'm sure I would have been able to see my life flash before my eyes.

Lydia: "A knife." *creepy child-head-cock last seen in Maculay Culkin's award winning performance in The Good Son*



Editorial note: A KNIFE. I swear Lydia barely knows what a knife is and certainly doesn't know that a knife is used for anything other than cutting food. A FREAKING KNIFE.

Me: "Lydia! WHAT DID SANTA BRING YOU?"

Editorial note: Mentally, I had already packed up all the nice presents we gathered for our daughter and donated them to a child who doesn't lie about receiving a KNIFE for Christmas.

Lydia: "Toys." [Translation: Eff you, creepy oldie.]


I did my best to keep a straight face while filling my husband in when we got home. He had to look away before addressing Lydia who was served with a very extensive time out and a long question/answer session in which she informed us that she heard about a knife from school.

But I still have nightmares about that creepy-child-head-cock.

Third Lie's the Charm - Cover Reveal Contest!

Click here to guess Kate's hair color in Book #3 and win a super fun prize pack.

And don't forget to stop by Icey Books tomorrow to catch the first glimpse of the cover. We're so excited for everyone to see!

Booklist on The Lies That Bind

My mom was very unhappy that I didn't post anything about our Booklist review, so here it goes:

 “This imaginative mystery, complete with secret passageways and passwords, will leave readers eager for the next installment.”

Yay! We're so happy readers are enjoying Kate's second adventure. We have some exciting news coming about book #3 next week, including a cover reveal!!! So. Pumped.

And in the meantime both eBooks are on sale for $1.99! Personally I think $1.99 is the perfect price for an eBook, so now is a great time to buy them!

(Are you happy now, Mom?)

Hope everyone is having a great weekend!

The Worst Day of My Writing Life

Hello, worst day of my writing life. You are characterized by instant upper-lip sweating, full-body shakes, and many, many tears. You began at approximately 1:07 AM, Saturday, December 29th and didn't end until after 7 PM the following day. I hate you, by the way.

Let's back up. 1:03 AM was a very, very good moment. Lisa and I had just spent the past 4 DAYS, 4 HOURS per night, READING ALOUD our current edit for THIS IS W.A.R. My voice was hoarse for 4 days because we labored over every word, discussed changes at length and went off on many, many tangents. Lisa had track changes on her computer and I had a brand, spanking new document I was building as we went. AKA the final version. I saved obssessively--an every-five-minutes-kind-of-save, a type-a-word-hit-save kind of save, a if-I-hit-save-one-more-time-I-will-be-considered-a-save-junky kind of save. You get the idea. 1:00 struck and we FINISHED. We spent approximately 1 hour on the last paragraph of the book, literally tearing apart every word to make sure we got it right. And then BAM. It was right and it was finished and it was good.

Lisa: Send me the document and we'll send to Dan. Yay!!!
Laura: Wait...I thought you were doing the edits.
Lisa: Very funny.
Laura: Ha ha ha. He. he. he.

We hung up the phone and I saved one last time before exiting the beautifully complete document to attach to an email. And then my world as I knew it was swallowed up. All of the dates on the This Is War FINAL document showed the wrong date. Christmas day to be exact. The day we began editing. This is not right. This is not right. Don't panic. This is not right. I opened Word to check my most recent documents. Not listed.

Cue terrified shakes. And heavy breathing. And tears. Lots and lots of instant tears.

I knew deep down that it had to be somewhere. I had saved the document religiously. It was on my computer. Word hadn't given me any Are you sure you want to exit without saving? messages and I HAD saved. I conducted a series of searches. My husband came downstairs at 2:30 afraid that I wasn't in bed. I cried. He searched my computer. Nothing. I continued searching until 3:30 in the morning and then finally cried myself to sleep hoping when I awoke, the entire experience would turn out to be a bad dream, the finished document waiting in our inbox where it belonged.

But who am I kidding? This is the worst day of my writing life. I woke up and the document showed Christmas day, reflecting not one of the changes Lisa and I had discussed. I had a few options.

1. Continue wasting valuable time searching.
2. Take my computer to a computer genius and beg.
3. Tell Lisa. Cry. Ask for forgiveness.
4. Start over.

So...I took a shower and cried. Ditched my kids with my husband and hightailed it to the nearest computer genius store and cried. No dice. If the document wasn't found during a search of all files as well as hidden files, it was gone. If it had been deleted, genius would have been able to help. Not saved properly? Nope. But I did save properly, I Saved As, I hit the save button continuously, I DID SAVE PROPERLY, but it was neither here nor there. Didn't matter. A waste. Gone.

So I parked my very sad-looking self into a seat at the library. And I started over. I knew I couldn't tell Lisa about my mistake until I had finished, until I knew that I could finish and make everything right again. My husband stayed with the kids and I worked the entire day/night recreating the hours of work we had lost. Luckily, I have a good memory and I had been the one adding the changes in the first place. The entire process was the definition of deja vu--reading aloud the original must have helped because I'm pretty confident I caught everything and maybe even a few misses. And every hour? I emailed an attachment and copied and pasted the document into an email to myself. If I was an obssesive saver before, I've developed into a complete head case.

I did eventually tell Lisa. But not until the document was safely nestled into our inbox where it should have been all along.

Meet Lucy.

We're proud aunties again. Lucille "Lucy" Hope has arrived (fashionably late, of course) and we've fallen in love all over again. 2013 is a good year. Happy birthday, baby Lucy.

PS: You have the best name ever and we're totally stealing it for our WIP.