Aloha:

Thanks to all who participated. The number generator has done its business and the winners of my last two Dandelion Fire ARCs are . . .

Brian (no last name provided - comment #28)

and

Ryan Birsinger.

Nicely done gentlemen.  Merry Christmas (and not just to the winners).

Okay,

Christmas is almost here, and I still have two ARCs of Dandelion Fire that I’m sure would be more appreciated wrapped up and waiting beneath trees.

I can’t bring myself to make this giveaway merit based. And it has to be fast if these shiny things are going to get anywhere in time for the big Morning.

So here’s the skinny: Leave a comment and you’re entered. Leave two comments and double your chances. Two comments is the max. At 11:59pm (PST) on the 18th, a random number generator will pick two winners. Both copies will ship on the 19th.

And . . . go.

UPDATE: I’ve been asked if the limit is two comments per person, or two comments per family. Two per person. Family members are welcome to compete against each other.

This next week, yea verily, the Christmas week, 100 Cupboards will be releasing in paperback. In stores on December 23, this newer, bendier binding makes stocking insertion a real possibility. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! And merry Christmas too.

So, having perused the various guesses, those who answered correctly have been entered in a lottery, and a winner has been selected. But before the winner receives their (sounds better than his/her) laurels, here be the correct answer:

If you entered door number 90, you would find yourself in the ancient Hall of 100 Pillars, in a hidden chamber beneath the 56th of those pillars, in the ancient city of Persepolis, back 1000 years in time, but in an alternate past in which the city had not been sacked by Alexander.

Nicely done to those who guessed (or googled) correctly. And Laura W: I counted you in, especially because of the Trousers of Time reference.

The winner is . . . JOHN AHERN! Congrats on your shiny new Dandelion Fire ARC.

And thanks to the rest of you (for your kind comments as well as your guesses). I have two more copies which I intend to get rid of in plenty of time for Christmas. Cheers.

NDW

P.S. SPECIAL NOTE: The plot of Dandelion Fire does not focus on door number 90.

So, I said that I would be giving away another copy of Dandelion Fire in November, and November has almost faded away to nothing. But . . . here I am (to save the day). I will do exactly as I promised. However, this giveaway will function a little differently than the last one did. This time there’s a question to be answered.

Rules: Post your guess/answer to the question (one post person, please). Everyone who answers the question correctly will be entered in a lottery (see, chance is still involved). If no one gets it right, then everyone is in the lottery. Make sense? I sure hope so.

Here is the question: If you were to travel through cupboard #90, where/when would you find yourself?

I’ll post the correct answer (and the winner) next Friday. Cheers.

I’m off to NCTE in San Antonio, TX Thursday morning. On Friday, I will be involved in a panel entitled “Engaging the Disengaged: Taking the Boring out of Books for Boys.” Boys’ literacy is a hot topic these days (because it’s in the tank), so we’ll be talking about picking books for boys, writing for boys, and motivating male readers. Being male and frequently unmotivated, I am an ideal expert.

For those of you who might be coincidentally walking by in your “Davey Crockett Died Here” tees, I will also be signing books at the Random House booth (#313) at 3:30pm.

Let’s say that you are more than a dreamer. You’ve actually finished a story. Now that you’ve finished it, you’re eager for feedback. You show it to friends. They read through it, and (just as you suspected), it turns out that you’re a genius. They all loved it. So did your mom. At this point, you should be growing suspicious. Is it at all likely that you’ve written the perfect book? Bet against it.

Where’s the criticism? You should be begging for it. You should want resistance. You should want people to try to tear your work down. You should want people with slender fingers and long nails pick, pick, picking at your cheap sweater. Read the rest of this entry »

What literary influences/ancestors spawned 100 Cupboards?

I’ve already talked about the situational cause of this series (that late night chat and wifely challenge). But that was the story equivalent of knocking over a large pot of boiling, goopy somethings. But what were those somethings? Who put them in the pot, and why was the burner cranked so high? I blame it all on my parents. And on my teachers. But then my parents were both my teachers at some point or other, and they helped start the school where I simmered K-12. So it all lands on them.

I will now practice a little self-discipline and see if I can let a poor, exploited metaphor go. Unlikely. Read the rest of this entry »

What gave you the idea for 100 Cupboards?

A few years back, a college buddy of mine (holler, Mark Beauchamp) dropped by for some nostalgic laughter. The hour got late and the caffeine was flowing. At some point in the evening, while discussing his innate need to salvage strange things (and how that need affected the overall aesthetic charm of his apartment), he threw out the phrase: “One Hundred Little Cupboards.” I latched onto it, responding with something like, “That sounds like a book title.” Now, to be quite honest, I would have let it die right there.  We both would have happily moved on, and the snappy book title could have gone to live where thousands of other snappy book titles had gone before. But instead, my wife chimed in. She laughed. Her eyebrows showered skepticism. “A stupid book,” she said. “Who would read a story about cupboards?” Read the rest of this entry »

I’m told that a blog is a lot like a houseplant. Some people get way too involved in their special spider fern and the thing ends up taking up more than just all of their time. It takes up half of the living room and replaces the loveseat. I (let’s be frank), am not in danger of becoming one of those people. When I leave town, I won’t be asking anyone to water my little, green friend. I will let it wilt and expect it to immediately recover when I’ve come home and dumped a bucket of water on it. Worse, when I haven’t even left town, I’ll still occasionally let it wilt and expect the same post-bucket recovery. Which is what I’m doing now. The Chia Pet hasn’t had water in a week. I promise to be a better pet plant owner.

Incidentally, now that I’m an old hand at this blogging thing, I’m suddenly feeling entrepreneurial. I have aspirations. I dream of a business called Blog For Me. I will gather a stable of writers, and then take clients too lazy (or busy) to blog, but who are desirous of all the immense gratification that comes from watching web stats rise, pie charts swell, and comments flourish. These lazy people will forward all photos and news items to their assigned ghost-blogger, who will then over-romanticize humorous, coy, and empathetic narratives around them.

I’m sure ghost-blogging for a random high school personality would be more interesting than keeping the traditional self-blog.

Regardless, I’m back. And tonight I will play Mozart to my Chia Pet. Tomorrow, I will scurry around, moving it from sunlit sill to sunlit sill. I’m even planning an earth-shattering post.