Lara Zielin

Okay, I’m starting a new category. It’s called Friday Flashbacks. Because, people, I have things to share. Old stories. Old photos. And you know what the best part is? I’m not afraid to make a moron out of myself. Ergo, you win.

Today’s Friday Flashback comes to you courtesy of 1982 through 1984.

Please allow myself to introduce … myself.

Dude, that penguin jumper? Is kinda rad.

And here I am ruining a perfectly lovely family photo in Hawaii.

And by perfectly lovely I mean I might submit it to awkward family photos later this afternoon.  Also, how about that 1980′s permfro I’m sporting? Nice. But really — I got nothin’ on my brother’s Miami Vice shirt. All it’s missing is a little coke residue on the front. It was the 80s, after all.

FAVE LINKEY-POO RIGHT THIS SECOND: I suppose I was the only one until recently who hadn’t seen the crazy viral double rainbow vid, but have you see the double rainbow remix? I have. Thanks to Lauren!

I love Goodreads. Every time I read a book, I’m excited to list it on my shelf and see what other people are saying about it. And, yeah, it’s true — I like to see what people are saying about DONUT DAYS too.

For a while there, I was starring and reviewing everything I’d read. And then I started to think about my reviews not as a reader, but as a writer. If I were the author of said book and I read my review, how would I feel? If I were the author of said book and I saw it had been given three stars out of five, what would I think? (And let me tell you, when I see three-star reviews of DONUT DAYS, my heart does sink a little. I know it’s not supposed to. Thick skin and all that. But it does. Because I want so much for everyone to love it.)

Anyway. As a writer, I really can’t be a reviewer. The biggest factor in this is because I now understand that even the worst of books still represent loads of hard work by the author. And if it was in their heart to get it that far, to a place where I actually held it in my hands, I can’t front on that. I can throw Twilight across the room, but I can’t diss Meyer for putting words to what was in her imagination. (Or what was in her bedroom, watching her sleep. *shudders*)

Also, the writing community is small. About the time I go around saying I couldn’t stand a certain book, I’m going to  meet that writer at a conference and have to shake their hand and want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

So, these days I mark the book as read, and I leave it at that. I do sort of miss putting my opinion out there, but as a published author, my job duties have changed. It’s no longer my role to critique as a reader and say what’s good. It’s now my responsibility to champion books and authors writ large — because as a whole they’re awesome — and cheerlead everything on the shelves.

Today, I’ll let a page from my fourth-grade diary speak for me. So very much happened. Death! Hair alterations! Today doesn’t even come close.

Sunflakes. Heh.

FAVE LINKEY-POO RIGHT THIS SECOND: This “documentary” about Saved by the Bell’s Rod Belding. I watched it in its entirety, twice, because I loved it so.

After breezing through THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO and really enjoying it, I was excited to pick up THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE.

But only a few pages in, something wasn’t sitting right with me. I put the book down and tried explaining my discontent to Rob. But all I could vent about was the fact that the author had given the heroine, Lisbeth Salander, a boob job.

Then I read Entertainment Weekly columnist Missy Schwartz’s take on the novel in the June 25 issue, and a lightbulb went off. Larsson (the author), she says, was supposed to be a feminist, but Schwartz herself has a “hard time reconciling  his ostensibly feminist agenda with all the male fantasy coursing through the books.” I concur! The protagonist, Mikael Blomkvist, is a turn-on for every woman on every page. Puke. Whatever. And even though Schwartz doesn’t say this, I took issue with how every woman in the books was portrayed as not only hot and heavy for Blomkvist, but also as having some kind of alternative sex life. From multiple partners to  promiscuity to playing for both teams, no woman was ever just content being in a single, satisfying relationship.

Oh, wait. Maybe one was. But she was murdered.

What’s more, the violence committed against women in the books is atrocious. Schwartz says that while you can argue that’s the point — “bring it out into the open, try to prevent it from happening again” — she’s unsettled by exploiting it for storytelling purposes. Yes again. I concur.

But the point I really got behind was Schwartz’s take on Larsson’s treatment of Lisbeth herself. She gets a boob job and we’re told the quality of her life improves. She never “accepts her imperfections.” And therein lies the rub. We are none of us perfect. Unfortunately, like Heidi Montag, Lisbeth winds up thinking that altering her imperfections will bring her satisfaction.

But that’s just not true. And as a result, THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE is laying on my floor, half read, and I’ll never finish it.

I’m a sucker for a good rehab project. Not the Lindsay Lohan kind, but rather the crafty kind.

Yesterday, on our way to a band organ rally in Sandusky, we stopped at a barn sale that was giving away old metal toolboxes. For free! So I picked up two. I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but they called to me.

Here’s the red one.

You can see it’s in rough shape.

And no, that beagle in the photo didn’t come with the toolbox. If he had, we would have dropped them right there and sped away. (Love you, Amos! Mwah.)

Anyway, today I got out my paint (Behr paint and primer in one, which will change your life, swear to dog) and started in. I wasn’t sure exactly where I’d end up, but my general philosophy is that paint, plus a hot glue gun and some ribbon, can fix just about anything.

Here is what I ended up with.

Isn’t it cute?! Then I lined the inside with some extra fabric I had sitting around.

No idea what I’ll do with it yet — am contemplating selling it on Etsy, actually — but I love it nonetheless. Oh, and I still have one more old toolbox to play with! Hooray for garage sales!

FAVE LINKEY-POO RIGHT THIS SECOND: Improv Everywhere made this hilarious Star Wars bit, which takes place on a subway car. In New York City. I love!

Recently at the gym, a friend in my spin class, Patty, was talking about her travels and she used the phrase “chocolate for flight attendants.”

“What’s that?” I asked. And she told me one about one of the best best practices I’d ever heard of.

Every time she goes on a flight, Patty takes all the flight attendants a little baggie of goodies. Nothing huge, but usually something along the lines of Zingerman’s brownies (which, if you’ve never had one, you simply must try). Patty said she did it because being a flight attendant was one of the most thankless jobs ever, and it made such a difference to these men and women.

She doesn’t do it for special seating. Or free booze. Or an extra blanket.

She does it simply to say thank you to people who don’t get thanked very often.

I love this idea. I love Patty for thinking about being grateful to people who we interact with but sometimes don’t even see. And I want to put it into practice in my own life. For shizzle. I don’t have any flights scheduled in the coming weeks, but when I do, I’m going to Zingerman’s and I’m going to stock up.

Thanks, Patty, for the awesome idea, and for making our skies just a little bit friendlier.

While the Nerds Heart YA competition is still going strong, I’m sorry to say that DONUT DAYS was knocked out of the second round by the novel IN MIKE WE TRUST. Which, actually sounds like a wonderful book and, in the Nerds Heart YA spirit of encouraging people to read underrepresented books, I suggest we all go out and buy it. (And many thanks to the wonderful Book Nut, Melissa, who took the time to read both novels!).

Go IN MIKE WE TRUST! I hope you win the whole thing. And that the prize is a pony.

Anyway, this all means that my little Nerds Heart YA contest is now officially closed, and we have a winner. Congratulations to Michelle M. who has won a signed copy of DONUT DAYS and a $15 Barnes and Noble gift card! Hooray and huzzah! I’ll email you to get the deets about where to send.

And thanks, everyone, for playing and supporting books! Yay!

I have a field. Well, actually, I don’t have a field — not technically — but sort of I do.

See, when I was growing up, there was a field behind our house. I used to go to the field all the time and play. When I got older, I’d go to the field and think. You know how sometimes, you get to a location and you realize, this place is part of me? Well, this field — it’s part of me. Big time.

Recently, when I was back in Wisconsin, I visited the field. Here’s me in the field.

The field is really beautiful. It has a gorgeous variety of wild plants and flowers.

And there poplar trees for days. Which is my favorite kind of tree.

The problem is, the field is for sale. From what my dad hears, most of the interest in the location is from developers. Who want to raze it and put up a pre-fab subdivision.

I have to tell you, the thought makes me sick. It feels like sacred land is being raped — not to put too fine a point on it. I mean, this place is part of the fabric of who I am. And the idea of McMansions on it makes me want to cry.

I’d buy it but I don’t have enough money. Not yet, anyway. The price is $10k per acre and there are 22 acres. That’s $220k.

So I’m going to try something. I’m going to believe that somehow, some way, that land is going to not get McMansions put on it. There’s a gorgeous scene in the book Eat, Pray, Love where Elizabeth Gilbert speaks what she needs to the universe (in that case, it was that her husband would sign her divorce papers) and she starts listing off people who agree with her that it needs to get done. At first the list starts with friends and family. In the end, the list is pretty funny — I think the Dali Lama is on it. But guess what else? The papers get signed. Pronto.

So, I’m taking a page out of Elizabeth’s book. I want to sign a petition to the universe, to God, that this land isn’t going to get razed. That this little slice of paradise deserves to stay that way.

Will you agree with me that this land deserves more than a subdivision? Will you stand with me by leaving your name in the comments?

I know it’s kinda crazy. But this place is a little crazy — it’s a little magical, actually. And I think the universe is with me on this one.

FAVE LINKEY-POO RIGHT THIS SECOND: My friend Heather and I recently re-watched the trailer for the movie Superstar. I was laughing even before it started. I love this movie, but I especially love the lunchroom dance scene to C&C Music Factory’s “Everybody Dance Now.” Only thing is, that scene isn’t on YouTube. Bummer. But the trailer is.

I’m already thinking about next Tuesday. Why? Because I have a chat scheduled with my awesome agent and we’re going to talk about getting my third book rolling along like an 18-wheeler. Breaker, breaker — this is Big Lars, I see a contract on the horizon, over.

Okay, maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. But I AM really excited to talk to my agent, revise my proposal, and hopefully get it in front of some folks soon. My third book, for the record, involves a lot of bad weather in Tornado Alley. Exciting!

Please keep your fingers crossed for me!

Many of you know I love Wisconsin. While I talk a lot about the cheese, the Packers, and the cheese, I think I’m selling my home state short with that list.

Because Wisconsin? Is amazing. No, really. And for lots more reasons than just beer and dairy and football.

First, Wisconsin is be-yoo-tee-ful. I bet you didn’t know that. I bet you thought it was all flat and full of farms, like … Illinois or Iowa or something. (No offense to those states but, sorry, you got nothin’ on ‘Sconsin). Wisconsin is full of rolling hills and it even has beautiful rocks and bluffs. They built a house on one of these rocks and called it … The House on the Rock. (Don’t say our names aren’t … well, accurate.)

And speaking of names, did you know just about every city in Wisconsin has an awesome name? Tomah. Poynette. Baraboo. Oshkosh. Wautoma. Kakauna. I mean, if I had a daughter, I might actually consider naming her Appleton.  Okay, not really — I just couldn’t resist the Gwenyth jab.

Laura Ingalls Wilder is from Wisconsin. Awww yeah. Harry Houdini lived there. The largest American ski race, the Birkebiner, is held in Wisconsin. Minnesota might have 10,000 lakes, but we have 8,500 and we don’t need to put that number on our license plates, thank you very much.

Our state has a UFO capital, a bratwurst capital, and a jump-rope capital. (Belleville, Sheboygan, and Bloomer, respectively. And, again with the names! They are so awesome!)

And even though there are no stats to back up this statement, I’d wager that the people in Wisconsin are some of the nicest anywhere. You can’t go into a grocery store, or a movie theater, or a car wash without someone saying hello and chatting.

Wisconsin’s motto might be “Forward,” but I’d suggest perhaps changing it to “More awesome than anything Chuck Norris ever did.”

But that might be hard to fit on a quarter.