Again, I should stipulate that this scene was cut for a reason. Parts of it will look familiar since they were included in the final book (just in a different place).
But I always liked the idea of this scene (it seems like a pop quiz Joe Solomon would love to give), and I'm glad it's finally going to see the light of day.
The setup: this scene took place after Cammie learned that Zach has lost his parents.
Enjoy!
Ally
Following Joe Solomon into the CoveOps elevator brought a strange set of emotions to the surface.On one hand, he is Joe Solomon (and close proximity to six junior spy boys hadn’t diminished his hotness.)On the other, there were about a million other things I wanted to be doing.But I also knew I couldn’t do anything about any of them—not really.So I was glad to be locked inside that elevator.It felt good to follow him through the maze of Sublevel One.
I wanted a mission—a task, a purpose.And when he said, “I suppose you know what this is,” I was relieved to look at the big steel door in front of me.
“It’s the Safetronic 4700,” I said in awe.
He smiled.“That’s right.We just got it in.”He kicked the steel door like a used car salesman kicks tires.“It’s the best commercially-available safe in the world—just the type of thing an operative might encounter in the field.”
I ran my hands across the smooth shiny surface.“It’s uncrackable.”
He laughed.“I hope not.”
And then he pushed me inside.
***
As much as I dearly love being a Gallagher Girl sometimes, it kind of cramps my style—especially when pushed and locked inside the world’s best safe.On a great TV night.When I have a headache.
And when I’m not alone.
I heard the laughter behind me and turned to see the hollow, empty room that might have been a suburban garage.If all garages are made from titanium and are located 30 yards under ground.
“Well, he said he was bringing me company,” Zach said slowly.Then he shook his head.“I should have known.”He smiled.“So, shall we get cozy?”
“NO!” I snapped and he laughed.That’s right.Actual laughter.I could have killed him then, and there would have been no witnesses (but I also would have been the only person with means and opportunity, so I didn’t.)I sauntered over to the locks.“We get to work.”
My focus narrowed; my fingers flew.There’s something so liberating about finding a zone, being free of thought and doubts and relying on instinct, on action.Everything faded away.I focused on the mechanisms, tried to shake them from my mind, remembered that life was like that assignment—unlocking one door at a time, and the longer I stood there the more I felt myself fade away, my consciousness go on cruise control until…
“Wow, you’re supercute when you focus.”
“ZACH!”
He made a show of looking around the empty room.“Yeah, must have been.”
“Just…Just be quiet and let me—"
“No, I mean it.You get this little wrinkly thing.”He held his thumb and forefinger to the center of his forehead.“Right here.It’s just cute as—"
“Do you want to stay in here all night?” I snapped.
He leaned against the wall beside me, crossed his arms.“Might as well.”Then he looked around the room.“I’ve stayed in worse.”
But then my stomach growled.(Please tell me he didn’t hear that.Please tell me he didn’t hear that.)“Well, I—"It growled again.Louder.(Please tell me he’ll at least ACT like he didn’t hear that.)
“I’ve got homework.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled then interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms out, popping his knuckles.“Gotta study hard, get ready for that next mission.”
I so didn’t want to have that fight.Not then.Not ever.Sadly because I’ve been trained not to start fights I can’t win.The boys had beaten us.We knew the rules.We did our best.They just did…better.
I stared at the mechanisms my fingers seemed frozen to.“Look, I—"
“Why don’t you ever ask me about it?” he asked, and I couldn’t help myself, I looked at him, but he just glanced away.Something lingered in the air between us, and I knew he wasn’t talking about missions or homework or anything else that only seems important when you’re sixteen.It was a different Zach entirely who said, “I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”
Maybe it was the impenetrable door, the six feet of solid steel that surrounded us on all sides.We had to come to a vault for Zach to let his defenses fall, and at that moment he reminded me of a bird that had fallen from its nest.I started to reach for him, to comfort him, but then I remembered Grandpa Morgan’s warnings that there are some wild things you’re not supposed to touch.
“It was a mission.”
I don’t know why I said it.The words were foreign to me—not English—not something I had ever said, and yet they slid so effortlessly from my throat they must have been back there, fully formed, for years waiting for that chance to seep free.
“My dad went on a mission.He didn’t come home.Nobody knows what…happened.”
Then Zach looked at me.“Somebody knows.”
And then the lock miraculously turned. The tumblers fell into place. The door swung open, a metallic grating sound echoing through the still, quiet room, Zach’s haunting words following me as I started up the stairs.
I don't know whether to be impressed. Or afraid? VERY afraid!
You guys are toooooooooo cool!
I (greedily) asked for 100 comments and I got...what...250? And counting!
So hey, why don't you guys cure cancer next? That would be awesome!
As many of you pointed out in your comments I think you've earned a "reward."
But what to choose? What could I possibly do to thank you guys for being the most tremendously cool readers ever?
And I came up with two options. And I'm going to allow you guys to vote.
1. I can post another deleted scene from Cross My Heart
or
2. I can post a draft of the opening of the BRAND NEW SERIES! It's still untitled, but it's about a girl named Kat, who is a burglar. And quite possibly the coolest girl EVER!!!!
So you tell me, something old and forgotten? Or something new and still to come?
--Ally
ps... Before you even ask--no. I can't do both. Life is full of tough, tough choices (every spy knows that), so you've got to choose!
Besides, in this, an election year, I think a lesson in democracy is very timely.
Where have all the handymen gone? Seriously. I'm asking. Because I was recently talking with my best friend who lives in Denver about how she can't get anyone to work on her house...
And then I talked to my sister who lives in Oklahoma about how no one will work on her house...
And last Tuesday I was expecting two different workmen to come do two different small things around my house, but neither one of them showed up.
NEITHER
ONE
OF
THEM.
It makes me long for Handy Smurf with his little smurffing hat and his smurfy smile and that totally smurfalicious pencil behind his ear....
I would also willingly hire a handywoman--I'm an equal opportunity handyperson employer! But alas, it doesn't look good.
Sigh. Smurfette was the smurffieiest smurf who ever smurffed!
1. since it never made it close to being in a final draft, this scene itself is still a very rough draft.
2. this basically follows the whole Dillon subplot from the other deleted scene and so it might not make a lot of sense.
3. and I'm probably too lazy to explain it
4. my editors (wisely) pointed out that it didn't fit and, therefore, it totally belonged on the cutting room floor.
5. it has so much Zach-based testosterone your heads might explode.
6. And I just don't think I could have the smartest/prettiest/funniest/and most spy-like teen and pre-teen heads in the country exploding! Seriously! There is no way I could live with that on my conscience!!!
But I'm going to post it anyway.
Here's the setup: originally, Dillon was going to be in CMH and he was going to play the same basic role he played in LYKY: cocky, prejudiced bad guy.
And if you thought Dillon hated having prep school girls in his town, well, you can pretty much guess what he thought about prep school BOYS.
“What do you want, Dillon?” I said.
“I want you and your snotty little friends out of my town and out of my sight.”
I threw my hands out to my side.“That it?”I took a step, needing my walls--not to keep me safe but to keep me hidden in a way I hadn’t been since Josh had first seen me.
I felt my hands to into fists, heard my slow voice as I said, “Leave me alone, Dillon.” But I thought give me a reason.
But Dillon wasn’t backing down; he didn’t take the hint.I was just a girl he hated; someone he had four inches and sixty pounds on; he could be tough with me—be strong—or whatever the definition of strong that people like Dillon have to use in order to make themselves feel worthwhile.
“You’re not so hot now, are you, Gallagher Girl?” he leered, pacing around me, stepping closer and closer until I had to turn to follow him and I felt like I was riding the merry-go-round that was only twenty feet away.
“You’re gonna leave my friend alone,” Dillon said, and I knew he didn’t think it was a question.
“Josh can make up his own mind.”
“You got a real smart mouth, you know that?Maybe someday someone’s gonna wash that smart mouth out.Maybe—“
“Is there a problem here?” a voice came from the shadows.Dillon spun to see the boy who stepped into the park, but I didn’t have to turn around.“Hey, were you guys gonna use the slide or do you mind if I go?” Zach said.
Zach reached for me.I felt his hand slide down my wrist and into my hand that had become a fist without my knowledge.
“Yeah, I was just telling your girlfriend to stay away from my buddies,” Dillon said.
I expected Zach to make some kind of smart comment about the girlfriend remark, but instead he just smirked at me and said, “Leave the nice boy’s friends alone, sweetheart.”
Then Zach turned around; he started away.
And I felt the punch before it landed.
Call it women’s tuition or P&E training or just really, really good instincts, but I knew to duck.And spin.And take two steps back before Dillon could pull his beefy arm back again.
And then I noticed something weird.Something scary.Something that I didn’t know if I could understand flooded into my brain as I realize that the fist wasn’t pointed at me.
I turned to the boy beside me.My hand was suddenly cold as I realized that Zach was no longer holding it.Instead, he was lying on the ground, Dillon standing over him.
“Cammie,” Zach said, holding a hand out, freezing me in that place and time and it was the look in his eye even more than his words that told me, “Don’t.”
And then something strange occurred to me:Zach must have felt the punch coming, too.Zach must have known to duck.
But he didn’t.
And then I knew that being a spy isn’t really about knowing how to throw punches; sometimes it’s about knowing when to take them.
Dillon was looking down, taunting as he kicked Zach once in the side.
Zach who was highly trained.
Zach who was highly skilled.
Zach who could have flattened a punk like Dillon with both hands tied behind his back…
Was lying there.Bleeding.And acting like the rich, spoiled, privileged boy that any boy temporarily enrolled at the GallagherAcademy was supposed to be.
“Yeah!” Dillon snapped as if he was so tough.As if Anna Fetterman couldn’t have put him in a full body cast with her new mastery of the ____ maneuver.“I thought you were all talk,” Dillon spat back as he turned and slowly walked away.
“Zach, you idiot,” I told the boy on the ground as soon Dillon was out of earshot.“I’m gonna—“ I started then turned to where Dillon was disappearing, but Zach grabbed my hand.
He looked up at me and said, “You know that I know you can handle yourself, right?”He looked at me as if he genuinely cared about the answer, so I nodded my head dumbly and said, “Yeah.”
I sank to the curb beside him, turned his face so I could see the coming bruise, but he pulled away and turned to face me.
“You know I just couldn’t have him showing up at the county hospital telling the cops about some hundred pound girl kicked his butt?”
“Yeah,” I said.“Stop fidgeting.”I held his shoulder, gingerly touched a growing bruise.
“You know I’ve been hit harder?”
And then I couldn’t help myself, I laughed a little.“Of course.”
“You know there are worse ways to hurt a person?”He was right and we both knew the answer had nothing to do with banned interrogation tactics and the Geneva Convention.There are worse ways, and Zach and I had already lived through enough of them to last a lifetime.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, rubbing his temple with my sleeve.
“It’s not so bad.He…”
“What?Hits like a girl?” I guessed, thinking it was funny, needing to laugh, to do anything to make one of us look away, but instead Zach didn’t laugh, didn’t blink, he just stared harder and said, “Not the girls I know.”
Aside from the creaking swings that swayed in the soft breeze the world was quiet and still.Josh and I had come to that park; he’d told me stories and I’d told him lies, and like it or not those lies had brought me to that park again, another boy’s blood on my sleeve.
For the whole walk back to school we didn’t say a word.
Okay, first let me just say that I know you guys really, really, really want to know what the title of the third Gallagher Girls book will be.
And when it will be out.
And what will happen in it.
Actually, EVERYTHING that will happen in it.
But as I've said before...
1. I will not reveal what will happen in the book.
2. I will not reveal WHO will be in the book.
I want you to have the best reading experience possible. And really, do you REALLY want to have all the good stuff spoiled for you? I don't think you do.
And of course, 3. I don't know a release date yet. When I do know a release date, I'll be sure to tell all of you about it. But right now, unfortunately, I just don't know.
And then there's always 4: I can't tell you what the title of GG3 will be. Right now. This minute. Because of a lot of factors that I won't go into (many of which are quite fun and you'll thank me for it later.)
But there is one thing I am now ready to reveal...
What the title of the third Gallagher Girls book WON'T be.
What's that supposed to mean? you may ask.
Well, basically it means that there's a title I love and my agent loves and my editor loves and all my author friends love.
But we can't use it.
Because it's got a bad word in it.
And I only cuss on cuss days! Plus, it would be kind of weird for the only bad word in a whole book to be on the cover!
So this won't be the title. No way.
But still...I kind of love it.
So, without further ado, I can tell you that the title of the third Gallagher Girls absolutely, positively will NOT be...
--The writers strike has forced me out of my comfort zone--has anyone else noticed this? And now I'm watching a lot of things I never would have watched otherwise.
--Like that vampire show MOONLIGHT. Which is okay. But I'm getting a little distressed about how every show/movie/book that deals with vampires has a slightly different take on the vampire world... like what kills them and how they're made and stuff ... which stresses me out because I can't keep them all straight!!!!
--And speaking of keeping things straight, moving is very stressful. And I haven't even started yet! Do I organize boxes based on function? On breakability? On room? How oh how am I going to keep everything straight?!?!
--And speaking of straight, my hair is feeling especially frizz-filled today. It's very frustrating.
--But not as frustrating as trying to remember how to kill a vampire.
Because, let's face it, that's something a girl really ought to know.
Well, many, many thanks to all of you who were so incredibly supportive during all the computer cord drama. I'm very glad to have that behind me.
Where it was: in the pocket of a laptop bag that I haven't carried in several months.
So you know what this means? I can now officially share pictures of my new house!!!!
Of course, I haven't moved into the new house yet since the old owners are going to rent from me for a few weeks, so the furniture in these pictures isn't MY furniture.
My furniture is probably a lot less cool.
But maybe I'll get some furniture...eventually.
In any case, here it is! Enjoy!
Ally
Let's start our tour in the kitchen. I love the counter tops but really want new cabinets (since these look nice on the outside but aren't really all that up-to-date on the inside.)
Here's the view from my dining room into the kitchen and living room.
And speaking of living rooms...
And this is the foyer...which I LOVE!
So that's my house...or well...some of my house. I'm pretty excited about it.
And I owe it all to all of YOU!
And for that, I'll give you a little something. A hint, if you will.
In the comments section of the last post someone asked what Cammie is talking about when she says "there are a lot of different kinds of gone."
But the question isn't what.
The question...
Is who.
Edited to add:
1. I absolutely, positively will not be telling you who is "gone". Heck, that particular line might not even be in the finished book--we've just started the editing process, after all, and things have a tendency to change. A LOT.
2. About Zach's line... I don't want to set a precedence here of explaining every cryptic thing Zach said in GG2 because the questions you have right now are the same questions Cammie has right now.
I will say, however, that the term "stepchild" is often metaphorical and not literal. As in "Team X is the stepchild of the Midwest Football League" or something like that.
There's a line in the most recent draft of GG3 that says something to the effect of "there are a lot of different kinds of gone."
I've been thinking A LOT about that line today since...
THE CORD THAT GOES FROM MY CAMERA TO MY COMPUTER IS GONE!!!!
I mean gone, gone.
Seriously gone.
As if ninjas came in the night and took it and any traces of it and warned all of my other cords and technical things that if they go to the authorities the ninjas will kill their families...
THAT kind of gone.
I've retraced my steps and the last place I remember for sure seeing it was at my office of my dayjob.
The only problem is that since then I have MOVED OUT of my office at my day job.
So I spent all day going through boxes (starting with the most obvious box first and then working my way down), and nothing.
I mean NOTHING.
I even went back to the office in question just to make sure it hadn't fallen under a desk or behind a filing cabinet or something, but...
Nothing.
So even though I have pictures of my oh-so-adorable new house (that I haven't moved into yet), I can't post them.
And I can't email them to any of my friends and family members who say "email me pictures of your new house!"
And I can't even study the pictures to decide exactly where I want my furniture to go (because believe me, once the treadmill and TV armoire get into position they will probably be in those exact positions until...well...I can't think of a force of nature strong enough to move them from those positions. In fact, I should probably just crawl inside the TV armoire in the event of a tornado.)
SO I REALLY NEED TO FIND MY LITTLE CORD!
But it's gone.
The kind of gone from which, I fear, there is no coming back.
Sigh.
Ally
updated to add:
I FOUND IT!!!!!!!!!!! Of course, it's now 1:37 a.m.
Found another one. Initially, this scene replaced the scene where Cammie searches Rachel's office and finds the picture. But then my editor wisely suggested that the picture of Mr. Solomon and Cammie's dad come to Cammie as a result of their investigation--that they EARN it, and of course she was right.
Still, I thought you guys might like this (since, so far, the scraps seem to be something of a hit.)
oh, and by the way, there are LYKY deleted scenes on the blog from about a year ago. Just go up to the little search box up above and search for them. They're there.
later gators, Ally
As we made yet another turn I realized we weren’t walking anywhere in particular.We were just…walking.
It’s a basic rule of CoveOps to be a moving target, so that night I walked with Joe Solomon through dim corridors and down deserted halls until we found ourselves at the far end of the second story of the mansion.Stone steps spiraled from the first floor, past a massive stained glass window that had once been heart of the Gallagher Academy Chapel, and as Mr. Solomon sat on the fourth step from the bottom I wondered if he’d come there for confession.
“And I found these,” he said, as he reached into his pocket for a manila envelope.“I could have brought them to class…” he placed the envelope in my hand “…but I didn’t think…” he trailed off, and for the second time in seven minutes Joe Solomon didn’t have the strength or courage to say what came next.
The weight was uneven, like a puzzle that’s been broken apart and a part of me wanted to shake it.If Liz had been there she probably would have rushed it immediately to the lab for analysis, but all I could do was stare at it, wondering what was so important Joe Solomon had pulled it from the basement and given it to me.
“They’re pictures,” he said.
“Oh,” I muttered.“Thanks.”
“Of your dad.”
I felt the cold stone seep through my jeans as I sank to the bottom step without realizing I was no longer on my feet.The envelope lay in my hands like an offering in that holy place, and even though Mr. Solomon’s knee pressed against my shoulder, even though his breathing was the only sound in that vast, deserted hallway I forgot I wasn’t alone.
“I thought you should have them,” Mr. Solomon said.“He’d want you to have them.”
Of course I already had pictures of my father, hundreds of them--the kind you keep pasted in books and the kind you keep frozen in your mind.Even without spy training I would still remember his face, his smell, the way his hands fit around my waist as I stood on his toes and danced on the kitchen floor.But sitting there that night with Joe Solomon I knew there was a side of my father I had never seen, I remembered that the man inside that envelope was in most ways a stranger.
I felt Mr. Solomon stand slowly and take a step away from me, up the stairs.
***
As I sat on the cold stone steps, watching the moonlight fallthrough the big stained-glass windows my internal clock must have switched off, because when I finally made it back upstairs and opened the door to our suite, Liz met me at the door, shouting, “Do you know what time it is?” and for the first time in years I didn’t know the answer.
“So?” Bex said, rushing forward.“What did Solomon want?”
Even Macey dropped her books to look at me as I walked toward my bed.Down the hall, the common room was quiet.
I placed the envelope on my bed.“He had some old pictures of my dad he wanted me to have,” I said as I started changing into my pajamas walking toward the bathroom.
“Ooh, let me see—" Liz said, grabbing the envelope before I could stop her.
“No, I—"
But it was too late, the envelope was already open and pictures were falling to my bed.
“Ooh,” Macey said.“Hottie.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Mr. Solomon is very—"
“Not Mr. Solomon, silly,” Macey said.“Your dad.”She eyed the picture in her hands.“He’s got that whole strong, silent type thing going on.”
“How can you tell?” Liz wanted to know because…well…Liz never passes up an opportunity to learn something.
Wow! Thanks so much for all of your incredibly kind words about the deleted scenes! That makes me feel good to know that you guys even like the leftovers!
A lot of you have asked to see the rest of that scene, but I probably won't post it because it involves a CoveOps class assignment that I would really like to reuse in a future book, so...sorry...that one has got to stay in the vault, I'm afraid.
Others of you have asked why scenes get cut at all. Well, this is actually a pretty complicated question to answer.
The short answer is that you should only put the scenes in that serve the purpose of the BOOK.
In the trade, we call this "murdering your darlings."
I have no idea who coined the phrase "murder your darlings", but I love it because it sums up the feeling of looking at a character... a line... a piece of dialogue... a description... a subplot... SOMETHING that you just LOVE...
But it doesn't work.
And so you have to kill it.
That's what happened with the scene I posted yesterday. I love Cammie and Zach squaring off in that alley. I love the thought of how, last fall, Cammie saw the clean, fresh, pretty side of Roseville and this spring she's seeing the place where they keep their garbage. I like A LOT about that scene...
But it doesn't advance the overall plot. It takes us in a tangent away from the center of the story and, therefore, it had to go.
I think that an author's job is as much about what you leave off the page as it is about what you put on it.
Below you'll find part of a deleted scene from CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO SPY. Well, actually, it was more like a deleted subplot.
This is a scene that follows a mission to town where Zach and Cammie ran into Dillon (remember Dillon, Josh's best friend?) And needless to say, Zach and Dillon were both a little too alpha dog for their own good.
Machoness ensued.
Enjoy! --Ally
As we’d turned down an alley, dogs barked through chain link fences.Rusty trash cans sat abandoned by the side of the narrow lane.Last semester I had found my way out of spy school and onto ordinary streets full of ordinary houses and ordinary people.This semester it seemed I was seeing the back side of those same houses—the sides they don’t really want you to see.
“Hey,” Zach called behind me, but I didn’t slow down.“Hey,” he called again.“Am I going to have to jog to keep up with—“
But before he could finish I whirled on him, pushed him up against a garage, his arms immobilized, and even though he was a good four inches taller than me I knew I had the upper hand.
Still, he was grinning that slow, mocking grin—the grin of someone who either knows too little or too much but in either case doesn’t care.
“Stop smiling,” I ordered, amazed at how level my voice sounded when, inside, I wanted to break and scream and cry, and I just knew he’d hear it and that would make it worse.I’d have to use all the skills in my extensive arsenal just to disappear and never see him again—face him again.
But he must not have heard my breaking heart, because the smile just grew wider and he said, “Gee, Cammie, if you want to put your arms around me all you have to do is ask, but I think Dillon back there might--"
“Don’t you ever paint me into a corner like that again!”I shook him, banging him against the garage but he didn’t even flinch.He never fought back.
He just stared deeper into me and slowly said, “Why?” he asked, eyebrows raised, daring me.“Because it might be hard on your love life? It’s no big deal.So Jimmy—"
“Josh!” I yelled.“His name is Josh, and I shouldn’t even be telling you that because you don’t deserve to know it—to say it—you don’t deserve to know anything about him because he’s—“
“Friends with that guy?” Zach asked.His voice was softer, not mocking now, consoling.
You know the phrase saved by the bell?Well, Josh was saved by the horn—literally—because I was seriously getting ready to find out if he would fit inside one of those trashcans when I heard a horn sound behind us and sensed movement at the end of the alley.Still, I didn’t loosen my hold on Zach.I didn’t stop to breathe until I heard Joe Solomon call, “Get in!”
Photo of today's bedlam win by James Schammerhorn.
ps...edited to add: Gallagher Iba Arena is the athletic center at Oklahoma State University. It's an incredibly historic building that has routinely been named one of the best college athletics venues in the country.
It's loud. It's rowdy. And it's where teamwork and defense have always been the most important things. Kind of like the OTHER Gallagher building...
The Oklahoma State University women's basketball team (and the men's team. And the wrestling team) compete in Gallagher-Iba.
I got the word today that not only are the Gallagher Girls still on the New York Times bestseller list, but they're on with a bullet.
Love You Kill You is #2 on the paperback list! That's number two, people! As in almost number one!!!
And Cross My Heart is enjoying its seventh week on the list at #5--its highest position yet!
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
I have always loved Bullet--the Oklahoma State University spirit horse, and the best part of OSU football games is when we score and the announcers yells, "And heeeerre cooooomes Bullllllet!" And Bullet comes out and runs really fast to the 50 yard line. And so all day I've been yelling, "And heeeeere cooooomes the Gallagher Girlllllls!"
Two of my favorite personalities in the YA world got together to make this awesome video!
Please take a second to check out Libba Bray and Maureen Johnson talking about Libba's new book and, more importantly to me, the utter ugliness that is the process of writing a novel. A real--people- are-paying -me-for-this- and-counting-on-it- and-I-just-know- my-editor-will-get-fired -if-it-sucks-and-my-life-will-be-over novel.
It's ugly.
I think that's why I STILL think you guys are lying to me when you tell me that you like Cross My Heart.
The truth is I don't like Cross My Heart.
Because Cross My Heart almost killed me.
There was crying.
And eating.
And gnashing of teeth.
And forty-five minutes one day when I sat on my deck in 20 degree weather rather than coming inside because I knew coming inside meant going back to work and I literally did not have the strength to go back to work.
And then one day I called my writer buddy Jen and asked if she'd read it and give me her HONEST opinion because I was pretty sure I was going to have to give Hyperion their money back.
And move to Alaska.
And change my name.
And never, ever write again.
But Jen told me she liked it better than book 1 and that's probably the only reason I was able to finish.
Sure, I thought she was lying.
But I finished.
So thanks, Jen. And thanks to all of you who have said such nice things and made me excited to get to work on book 3.
So...watch Libba and Maureen and go buy their books. And then buy Jen's new books as soon as they come out (I'll tell you more about them then.)
I had the best plans for this weekend. Seriously some industrious, get-things-done-that-have-been-annoying-me-for-forever plans.
I was going to get A LOT accomplished.
Do you know what I ACTUALLY accomplished?
I spent two days fixing my Quicken account for my credit card.
Do you know WHY I had to spend two days fixing my Quicken account for my credit card? Because last summer my credit card company decided to spontaneously and without my permission change my credit card number.
It might not sound like a lot of work...
But I've got two full days of fixing my Quicken account to prove otherwise.
But it's over now.
I think.
And if I'm wrong...
I don't want to be right.
Gotta hit the treadmill, gang. (But then again maybe it might do more good to walk on it--ba-da-bing!)
Oh my gosh. My editor called today to chat about GG3 and catch up after the holidays. You know...the usual.
So imagine my surprise when halfway through our conversation she said, oh, by the way, CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO SPY is back on the New York Times hardcover bestseller list at number nine this week!
((Insert mental picture of Ally jumping and screaming and being totally uncool while on the phone with someone who is cool personified.))
Then, my editor said, "And Love You Kill You debuted at #4 on the Paperback list."
And then I passed out cold.
Okay, so I didn't actually pass out cold. But I felt like it.
Two books--TWO BOOKS!--on the New York Times list. I honestly never thought I'd ever have ONE book--much less two at the same time, one of which has been out for a year and a half.
You guys did this--you know that, right? Every time you told a friend (or twenty) that you like the Gallagher Girls you did this.
So thank you!
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
In other news, I feel pretty guilty being happy right now because someone I love lost someone she loves today.
So I want you guys to make me a promise, okay? Be careful driving. Seriously. Be really, really, really careful. Cars aren't fun. They're dangerous and things can happen so fast--life can change so fast--so take care out there and do your best to make sure those changes are for the better.
2008 is going to hold sooooooo many changes for me. (New job. New house. New city. New state. New sleep pattern.)
Oh, and a NEW SERIES!!!! (Yay! I can't wait to get to work on Kat!)
That's why I'm so glad to start 2008 with a new draft of GG3. It's rough and ugly and full of holes you could drive a stolen overnight delivery truck through.
Ally Carter is the author of the Gallagher Girls series. Right now she's hard at work on book three, the title of which is currently classified, and she could tell you more, but...well...you know...
Got a MySpace? Be my friend!
