Congrats to Josie Bloss and Maureen Johnson, whose latest novels — Albatross and Scarlett Fever, respectively — were released today. To celebrate, I’m having another contest!
As you may have read in Josie’s interview on the Flux website, music plays a part in Albatross, just as it did in Band Geek Love and Band Geeked Out. In order to enter the contest, tell me in the comments how music played a part in your high school life. Intern Jenny and I will pick the best, most entertaining story to win a copy of Albatross on Wednesday!
But let’s not leave out fans of Maureen Johnson, and the eagerly anticipated sequel to Suite Scarlett. The Kirkus review I linked to the other day gives a little hint about a plot point — Spencer gets a role on an insanely popular tv show. To win a copy of Scarlett Fever, imagine you’ve got a high powered talent agent like Mrs. Amberson, and tell me what show YOU’D want a role on, and what that role would be. Again, Jenny and I will look through the comments on Wednesday and decide which special guest star performance we’d most want to watch.
So have some fun in the comments, and good luck! And if you just can’t wait to win, may I suggest IndieBound to find a local independent bookstore where you can buy your very own copy of Albatross or Scarlett Fever — or both?
UPDATE: The contest is now extended to next Wednesday, February 10th. Good luck!
26 thoughts on “Pub Day (x2!)”
I'd like a role on a new TV show based on Maureen Johnson's life. I would play the wacky neighbor upstairs.
Also, I'd like MJ to be played be Rachel McAdams.
That would be certainly a comedy role in a brand new season of Will & Grace
I'd want to be on "Project Runway"! I'd be Tim Gunn's sidekick. I'd just stand behind him and go "Yeah," "Mmmhmm," and "What he said." I'd be his wingwoman! And if the designers don't heed him, I'd be the one in charge of being all "Oh no you didn't! You're about to get Auf'ed!"
I'd time travel back to the mid-90s and guest star on FRIENDS during the second or third season (because those seasons were really the best!). I can see it now… Monica would do something so insane (like the time she thought the maid was stealing and stuck her face between the maid's legs to see if the jeans she was wearing were hers), Rachel, Phoebe, Joey, Ross, and Chandler would insist she go to type-A therapy. I would be the wacky but competent therapist who makes Monica compete with me in a 'who can be dirtier' contest – perfect since Monica hates both dirt AND losing!
"Someday I'm going to marry a man who can sing," I said, busily inspecting my nails. He was too gorgeous. If I made the mistake of looking at him, all the clever words I wanted to say lodged in my throat.
"And what if he can't?" he asked. I could tell by the laughter in his voice he thought I was weird. Too shy, for sure.
"He just will. I know it," I said, but I was thinking: I know it because you're the one I'm going to marry. I'd already written the fact all over the pages of my diary.
He sang everywhere: in the stairwell of our apartment building, where the accoustics of the tiled walls carried his voice to wherever I was in the house; walking back from the train station; waiting in line for a bus. Music was inbedded in his soul.
So, I joined choir and madrigals. I played bass clarinet in the school band and clarinet ensemble. I joined our worship team at church. I tinkered with melodies on our long-neglected piano and hoped he was listening.
In the process I found that I could sing. I found the music inbedded in my own soul. So, even though I'm married to a wonderful man now who decidedly cannot carry a tune, I owe a debt of gratitude to that boy I once knew who helped me find a part of myself because he opened his mouth to sing.
I was light years behind in coolness during high school and had just started asking, "Who's this Kurt Cobain guy, and why's he so angry?" when everyone else was moving on to Pearl Jam. And then I was asking, "Is that the guy from Singles?" as everyone else found 311. Then I asked, "What are these guys smoking?", and everybody laughed at me.
Then, junior year, the guy I'd had a crush on invited me to a ska show. I had no idea what ska was, but I had seen a girl wearing a ska shirt, and she was wearing pigtails, so I wore pigtails and an argyle sweater. You can't go wrong with argyle and pigtails, right?
Wrong. I looked like an idiot. But then I heard the music, and it was fabulous. I learned to skank. I skanked until I fell down, and then a seven foot tall skinhead picked me up and dusted me off. For the rest of my high school career, I was ska's bitch.
Later the skankin' jerk dumped me from across the country, but it wasn't ska's fault. He was just the wrong kind of rude boy, is all.
I can't act to save my life but if I could…I'd want a guest role on NCIS. I'd play a sassy but sweet YA author who meets Agent McGee (who is a published novelist) and a quarky romance ensues…But we wonder if she truely cares about him when she starts pushing McGee to have the NCIS team re-open the cold case of her murdered Navy lieutenant father. When forensic specialist Abby reexamines an old piece of evidence the team narrows the list of suspects down to one…
(This was so much fun! By the way, I started reading Suite Scarlett this weekend. Love it! Will definitely have to check out other books by MJ!)
At the annual Junior High Fall Dance, Mr. Rent-a- DJ announces a dance-off. All us seventh and eighth graders jump and hop around to the latest Nirvana pop song–Smells Like Teen Spirit. I'm in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by friends and, unfortunately, enemies, with my hair flipping, arms waving, and legs kicking. The beat thumps through my body and I close my eyes, feelin' it. I'm ON! There's no way I'm losing this one. Confidence spurs me toward a flailing frenzy. Left and right, kids are getting tapped out, shunned to the sidelines while the REAL dancers shimmy on.
About halfway through the song, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I'm out. Loser! Dejected, I sulk off to the corner.
The problem: No one told me I dance like Elaine from Seinfeld.
(This is really a fun contest. Should I be chosen, I'd prefer Scarlett Fever. Thanks!)
I'd be on Greek which airs on ABC Family and I'd be the newest pledge for Zeta Beta Zeta–hot, smart and funny–and I'd get the attention of Cappie the wild but adorable president of Kappa Tau!
Great contest!
I have 2 stories:
In eighth grade, the school had a music competition, drum-off, dance-off, rap-off, you name it. Philip Bailey's (he sang hit duet with Phil Collins – if memory serve me) son was an incredible break dancer (man, I am totally dating myself). While he was break-dancing, he did a flip, landed on his stomach and gave me a kiss on my cheek – I was in the crowd. I still have the cheek.
I worked as a runner at a law firm in high school. I was taking some docs to the court when a group of men drove by and whistled. Being in high school, I decided to play it cool and act like I didn't see them or hear them. So I stared forward and got my best attitude walk going. I think I made it exactly 2 steps before I tripped and landed on both knees – yes they bled. All I remember is laughter and latino music. To this day I can't hear latino music with out going three shades of red.
I have more stories, but this is a good start.
Wow, I shouldn't be allowed to post before my first cup of coffee. Sorry about the mistakes. Ah, and there's the latino music, time to blush.
Ha! Whoops! Wrote the wrong book–guess I "entered" the contest for Albatross…looks like dancing like Elaine has made me cross-eyed! 🙂 Well, that's a different story entirely…
Music provided the soundtrack to adolescence. I remember listening to alot of new wave and punk music. Sporting my six-inch faux-hawk, that my mother did her best to assure me looked great. I think the reverse psychology she was trying, failed horribly. Music was our first foray into true independence. We could explore feelings through music. Whether is be joy, anger, love, it was a safe avenue. And no matter what, every school dance ended with "Freebird". It was the longest song we could think of and everyone wanted to hold onto one another for just a little longer.
Oh…I didn't leave a comment about how music played a part in my high school life.
I could never be accused of being a shy person, but still, I had trouble standing up in front of people to perform, or being singled out. Well, I joined the choir for a short amount of time until a ceiling tile fell on a fellow singer and I couldn't stop laughing.
And even though I don't have a voice that should be singled out, I loved singing so I joined drama club. We put on the musicals The Wiz and West Side Story. Singing and performing on stage gave me even more comfidence, exposed me to the arts, lead to me going to college for the arts, which lead to me writing…not to mention it gave me life-long friends…what more could you ask for!
I'd be another Oceanic Flight 815 survivor on LOST, a mysterious writer named Jezebel who's always scribbling away at her manuscript while everyone else is trying to survive.
As for music's role in my high school life, I can't even remember how many times I danced "The Boot-Scootin' Boogie" at some school function, usually in four-inch heels and a formal:)
I was in choir in high school. We were rehearsing and my very unGleelike teacher, Ms. Caldwell was not very inspiring to solo scared singers. She accused me and another alto of singing off key and forced us to sing a duet in front of the whole class. It wasn't us and the class applauded for us. In your face Ms. Caldwell!
As for what show, that's easy. Buffy. I would be a slayer in between Kendra and Faith. I would breeze into town, kick some vampire butt and claim Angel's heart for a short time until I am killed to make way for Faith to rise.
Music was an integral part of who I was in high school, but then again, I was a pretty standard Bando (that's how we referred to Band Nerds. It's a reference to the company that made marching shoes. But not our marching shoes. We wore Dingles. No one wants to call themselves a Dingle).
During my junior year, my best friend and I wrote the Bando Manifesto: "A spectre is haunting Olympia High School, the spectre of Bandoism!". Then as marching season ramped up we wrote the Woodwind Declaration of Independence, which in a very Jeffersonian way declared that we, woodwinds, will no longer be oppressed by the brass (most especially those hated trumpets. This seems like a good place for a trumpet joke, but I'll restrain myself).
I was a clarinet/Bass Clarinet player who during marching season was Woodwind Captain. I never auditioned for drummajor. Why would I? Drum majors don't get to march or play music. I can't see any fun in that.
Music played an important time in my high school time. When I was in my 2nd high school year, my parents where divorcing, I had to lose weight, and I was bullied. The thing that really helped my was that I started to write with my favorite singer, this really supported me and helped me through that time. This singer still has a special place and we still are in touch 14 years later!
Great contest!
I would want to be on the show Chuck. It would be pretty awesome if I could appear as guest spy, but realistically I would probably appear as a guest Buy More employee. My personality would definitely fit in more with the Buy More employees, but I think my nerd savy would make my role as a spy even more surprising. (I could be like a girl version of Chuck, another Nerd Herd spy).
We all know the kids in marching band. It's almost like an exclusive clique in high school (minus the whole exclusive part… and the whole cool-everyone-wants-to-be-like-them part)… I wasn't a band kid, though. Turns out that I'm musically impared – almost like being a deaf-blind-mute when it comes to trying to playing an instrument or singing.
So instead, I was one of the girls *next to* the band kids. Holding a flag. That's right – I was in color guard, a "flagette" if you will ;D And I could guard those colors damn well!
My freshman year, the band director chose a fool-proof soundtrack for the year's performance. Star Wars. Seriously – if you're going into competition with a lot of geeks, choosing to play one of the most awesome themes in the world was basically just asking for people to hand over trophies. We even opened with the Fox fanfare (horn-pop and all!). As for color guard, we were ready.
We had theme-colored flags for each song, most of them almost metallic-looking. Best of all, our sabres were wrapped with shiny green tape – basically imagine football field lights shining on those beauties! Lightsabres made real 😀 We finished the show with ten-foot flags (not kidding).
I ended the show spinning that ten-foot flag around me. Into a percussionist. (Not kidding.) Somehow he kept his balance and finished the performance. But to make it a little more embarassing I should mention that I had a crush on that kid since kindergarten. Somehow this sounds like a Taylor Swift song or something, but it's completely true.
No, I didn't miraculously start dating the guy, but we *did* win each of the competitions we went to that year (including the one I knocked down the drummer). No one can deny the awesomeness of Star Wars music. Or ten-foot flags.
So, really, I owe a lot to music and the marching band that gave me so many ridiculous memories throughout high school. I've since graduated high school as well as college, but I like thinking back to just how much work I put into color guard and working with the marching band. If nothing else, it at least makes for an interesting story 😀
I don’t think I could have made it through high school without music. But at my all-girls Catholic high school we didn’t have band. We had glee club and dance. I was a dancer. You still wouldn’t want to hear me sing. I’d long for Dance Club after school every Friday when the sound of the music would just set me free. It didn’t matter how stressed I was, an hour tapping away just made me high. Some girls could only dance by working through the counts for each step. Not me. I heard the music and it told me which step came next. I left school exhilarated every time. And I’d walk in the door hearing Fred Astaire in my head singing “Heaven, I’m in heaven…” And I was.
The best part? My teenage daughter experiences the exact same thing when she dances.
Okay, Daphne, you said we could enter more than once, so I'm taking you up on that offer.
I had missionary parents, and though my mother always loved to dance in secret, I was never allowed to go to school dances because it went against our mission board's regulations. I bore it quite well, until Hjalmar came to our school. He was cute and the new boy — half-Chinese, half-Swedish. All the popular girls were immediately in love with him. And out of all the girls in our year, he liked me. I found out about it through the grapevine, and it shocked me.
One of my best friends, Hersha, was having a dance party for her birthday. I begged my dad to let me go. He said no, but my mother gave me a look that stopped me from arguing — she'd talk to him. A week before the party, he came around to the idea, gave me a curfew, and let me go.
I remember planning my outfit — black shirt, white skirt, and black-and-white suspenders. I practiced dance moves to a Michael Jackson tape my sister had smuggled into the house. At the party, I had my first slow dance ever with Hjalmar. It didn't matter that he was a foot shorter than I was. It was perfect … standing there in the middle of the dance floor (my friend was a member of the richest Indian family in Hong Kong and she lived in a mansion — with a large space for parties), shifting from one foot to the other, hands and armpits sweating. I thought the song would never end. The popular girls shot me looks of contempt. It was my moment of glory!
I can combine both of these in one, because I would want to be on GLEE, maybe as the new guidance counselor who also happens to sing and be a bad-ass on the dance floor thus confusing things even MORE! Mwa ha ha.
I spent all of junior high and high school tweeting a flute in band class until I switched to the piccolo on the basis that it was easier to carry around and sort of ditty, like a toddler flute. But because we were in the middle of Queens we never actually got to march anywhere or play anything or — well, anything. And I had untapped ham tendencies.
Then, out of the blue, in my senior year the school decided to put on a musical (You're a Good Man Charlie Brown) for the first time in twenty years and I wanted desperately to play Lucy but I'd always thought I was an alto and so auditioned for Snoopy. But the singing teacher said that I was an untrained soprano and I got the part! Hooray! In a final burst of cuteness, I ended up going to the prom with Charlie Brown, who was really nice back then (and let me paint his nails) but is now a scumbag bounty hunter who dates 18 year olds. Yuck. Maybe it was the nail polish that drove him to it.
The singing teacher was wrong, though. Alto all the way.