5 Lessons From Toddlers & Tiaras

Toddlers and Tiaras is one of those shows I watch that simultaneously horrifies and fascinates me. I'm cringing the whole time, but I can't look away.

You can learn a lot by watching the show, and I'm talking about more than the creative spellings of the name Michaela. (Mikayla, Makayla, Micaylah, Mikaila, Mukayluh, Mikado, etc.) It's the pageant version of Gaddafi.

Mostly what I've learned has to do with how much I got wrong as a parent. I thought I did all right, but I had no idea what I was doing. So, as a service to you all, here are just a few of the lessons I've learned:

1. If your child is sleepy, give her Pixy Sticks and energy drinks.



And there was the six-year-old who drank Red Bull from a bottomless sippy cup. They bleeped out the brand name, but it was clear what she was saying:

"I want my Red Bull!"

"I'm on my fifth Red Bull!"

"Where'd all those spiders come from?!"

So, they're learning early that if you need a pick-me-up, grab a drink or a white powdery substance. This can't possibly turn out badly.

2. Children cry and throw themselves to the floor to show enjoyment.

Pageant detractors complain that parents are living vicariously through their children, and that the way they're raising their kids is borderline abusive. But over and over again we hear the parents argue, "We're doing this for her" and "She loves pageants."

Witness the joy:



3. Dress as a prostitute to be rewarded with jewelry and money.

I don't mean that they're just wearing skimpy outfits; I mean a contestant on this week's episode was dressed as Julia Roberts' character in Pretty Woman. You know, when she played a hooker. I wish I were making this up.

And it worked. This contestant went on to win the Grand Supreme title. Even more disturbing was her trophy for "Most likely to shack up with Richard Gere."

Say it with me, kids: "Big mistake. Huge."

4. I know nothing about investing.

Pageants give cash prizes! $1,000 sometimes! Yes, the dresses cost a few thousand, and there are coaches, entry fees, hair extensions, makeup artists, hairdressers, and custom made "flippers" to hide the hideous gaps created when kids dare to lose their baby teeth, but if it all comes together in a glittery harmonic convergence and your child wins the pageant, it was all worth it.

5. Babies should be tan.

Just look at this picture from when my daughter was a toddler:

I'm sorry, I should have warned you how terrifying that would be. I mean, look how pale she is. And that outfit does nothing for her figure. But I didn't know any better. I never took her to a tanning salon. It was a long time ago, and I feel comfortable telling you people now.

Here's what I should have been doing:



It's too late for me, but I speak out now to save the spray tans of the future. If I can save just one toddler from walking around with embarrassingly pasty-white skin, then my journey here has meant something.

And if my time here has been worthless, I have my Pixy Sticks and Red Bull to keep me company.

Hit Send, Then Forehead

Had to stay up most the night to get them finished, but I was finally able to get round two of the edits turned on Friday morning. Yay! Such a relief to get those finished and click "send." After taking a moment to dance around the living room, of course, I had a little time left to get ready for work.

I think I was still smiling during my commute when I literally smacked myself in the head. THE DELETED SCENES! THEY'RE STILL THERE!

You might know how well I handle requests to delete things, so when I did take out scenes the editor wanted removed from the manuscript, I tacked them on at the end to save them. I couldn't bear to just shove them outside to be all alone in the cold and rain. Plus, maybe I'd find a place they could be used. If not the whole scene, at least a sentence or a few of the prettiest words.

But I meant to cut and paste them onto a new document before sending the manuscript. They weren't supposed to be clinging onto "THE END" or standing around like bad house guests. As soon as I parked I took out the phone to fire off an "ACK!" email to the editor. She's lovely, and replied back with a "No worries allowed" message. I still felt like a dork.

It could have been worse, though. At least I didn't have any notes-to-self on there like, "Develop sinister plot to sneak this back into the manuscript. Mwoohoohoohahaha!" And thankfully it's an editor I'm already working with and she's really nice. If this were our first correspondence, leaving a page and a half of randomness after the story ends wouldn't make the best impression.

I know I'm not the only one--what flakiness have you submitted in a premature click of the "send" key? Letters addressed to "Dear Agent," or a draft that wasn't ready to go?

Anything that's made you feel like this guy?

Edit Letter Fun: Are You a Butcher Or a Coddler?

I've been spending a lot of time in the revision cave lately, but have crawled out for a while in an attempt to blog more often. Plus it's dark and there are spiders in there.

Last week I went to Austin with critique buddies Christina Mandelski and M.G. King for the Texas Library Association Conference, which was all kinds of awesome. It's so much fun to see what books are coming out later this year, and I caught up with some writing friends I don't get to see often enough.

During a conversation with one of those writer friends, I discovered that we were both working on editor-requested revisions, but her attitude was...what's the word? Healthier? Sane? Not completely twisted?

Here's a dramatization of the conversation. (We weren't dressed as bunnies, but bears in bunny costumes make adorable stand-ins.)

I hope I'm not quite as bad as Lavender Bunny, but I do feel a little stabbing pain in the heart when I hit "delete" over a scene that might not be working.

That's normal, right? (Right?) We spend a lot of time with these words, so it hurts to toss them out. They look so sad out there, all alone in the rain, faces pressed against the window...

But, we have to be practical too, and think about what's good for the story. Maybe it's a nice scene, but it's not moving the story along or it's taking the reader out of the action. Editors are good at spotting those things that we overlook because we're too close to the story and the cuddly words.

So which writer are you--the butcher who sees the cutting as part of the job, or the coddler who wants to cling to your words?

And those of you who've been through it before, share any tips you have for getting through the edits! Don't forget to put on your bunny costume first. It's the best way to deliver difficult news.

More Children's Books From The Celebrity Apprentice

If The Celebrity Apprentice saw a jump in ratings this week, they probably have the children's literature community to thank. Writers, book lovers, and publishing professionals tuned in, knowing it would be somewhat painful, but we had to watch, even if we'd have to do so while peeking through our fingers like we were watching a horror movie.

The challenge for each team this week was to write a children's book and perform the story in front of a group of real, live children. (And you know someone on staff had the task of checking cast members' probation requirements to make sure that was okay.)

Here's where it gets more interesting--the book had to be about someone on the team. A children's book. About one of the Celebrity Apprentice cast members. Have you seen the participants? The only way it could get train-wreckier is if they threw in the love child of Charlie Sheen and Mel Gibson.

Editor Margery Cuyler of Marshall Cavendish advised the teams, not knowing that she should tell them to do the opposite of what she really wanted them to do. She told the men's team not to write a rhyming story. John Rich (of Big & Rich) interpreted that to mean he should take on the challenge of writing a rhyming book.

No, John, she wasn't daring you to try it. She really meant it. Don't.

But, the men do have two songwriters on the team--John Rich and Lil Jon, so maybe it wouldn't be too bad. The team chose John Rich to write the text of the book, probably because they couldn't decide whether Lil Jon's "Can't Stop Pimpin'" or "Move Bitch" would make a better picture book. Lil Jon did end up being the main character, though, as a boy who was teased at school because he was, well, lil. Of course the teasing intensified because the schoolchildren reasoned, naturally, that his shortness precluded him from learning the alphabet and counting. But Jon showed them at the end, via rap, that he did indeed know his ABCs and 123s. Then he promptly bust a cap in their kindergarten asses.

The women's team, after two hours of screaming arguments and insults, settled on a book about LaToya the Lion, who couldn't roar. (Spoiler alert--she was able to roar at the end!).

I know there's so much we miss because of editing, so I can't help but imagine some of the discussions that ended up on the cutting room floor. Here are some titles I would like to have seen come out of those conversations:

Gary Busey: "I got it. Let's write about a pigeon named Gary and make a book kinda like Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. We'll call it Seriously, Do Not Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. For the Love of God and the Safely of All, Do Not Let Him Drive the Bus. Or The Snowy Day would work too. Am I wearing pants?"

Richard Hatch: "No, kids like Dr. Seuss. We should write something like a Dr. Seuss Book, like Oh The Places You'll Go. Federal Prison, For Example.


Jose Canseco: "We're not doing Dr. Seuss!"

Meat Loaf: "Put the chair down, Jose, or I will beat you with my sequined jacket."

Jose: "We should do something more classic, like a fable. Kind of like Jack and the Beanstalk, but it's Jose and the Beanstalk. And instead of planting the magic beans, he eats them, and he gets big and strong. Then he kills the giant with his bare hands..."

Gary Busey: "How's he gonna get to the giant, Jose? You have to climb the beanstalk to get to the giant! You can't climb the beanstalk if you don't plant the beans! Everyone knows that! He's gotta plant the beans, man!"

On the women's team, I liked Marlee Matlin's idea to have a deaf character in the book be the one to teach LaToya the Lion how to roar. Fun twist at the end of the story. But no, Dionne Warwick said that would be too much of a downer, since the children would just feel sorry for the deaf character, of course. And children aren't ready for that kind of diversity. (So shouldn't they have made all the characters in the book the same kind of animal? They had a dog in there! And the lion was friends with a chicken! That's the kind of diversity NO ONE is ready for.)

Marlee Matlin: "If we're not going to have a deaf character, let's do a sign language ABC book. I'm thinking R Is For Roundhouse Kick to Dionne Warwick's Face."


Playmate of the Year Hope Dworaczyk: "How about a new version of Pat the Bunny? It'll be a lift-the-flap book--"


Lisa Rinna: "No, I've got it--you know what would be fun? A sing-along story, like The Wheels On The Bus. You know, like THE BUS YOU ALL F-ING THREW ME UNDER!!!"

Certainly this is just a partial list; there's so much potential in this cast. What other children's book titles do you wish came out of the Celebrity Apprentice teams?

The Mayflower Landed On Ellis Island And Other Things I Learned From Snooki

Okay, I admit it. I read the Snooki book. I couldn't help myself, all right? The few priceless quotes I heard let me know this was too good to pass up.

Yes, A Shore Thing is no literary gem, but that doesn't mean it's without merit. I actually learned a few things.

I'll start with examples pertaining to the craft of writing:

"I'm not a slut, I'm a whore. There's a difference." 
Of course. Wasn't it Mark Twain who stressed the importance of using the right word instead of the almost-right word? The advice is timeless.

"But now, like a chronic STD, Gia was back." 
Advice every writer has heard--write what you know.

"'Don't be fooled, Isabella. Even tough guys like Downy softness. One cupful of this'--he held up his bottle--'can make the difference between a good day and a bad day. Life is tough enough. Might as well do the easy stuff to make your life better.'
Isabella nodded, frankly amazed. She'd never heard Tony speak more than a sentence or two at a time at the gym, but here he was rhapsodizing about philosophy." 

Don't be embarrassed if you can't remember if it was Plato or Aristotle who discussed fabric softener. Focus on the writing lesson here--this is a complex character. 

"Yum. Johnny Hulk tasted like fresh gorilla." 
Sensory details can have a big impact on your reader. Most of us don't have a problem describing what characters see and hear, but it's harder to show what they feel, smell, and taste. The descriptive language here brings to mind the taste of gorilla, a fresh one...wait a minute, what the hell?

Moving on. Let's take a look at some other examples that illustrate the importance of figurative language. No tired old cliches here--you won't find these anywhere else. Ever.

"From the outside, the two-story, two-bedroom bungalow looked like an aging Atlantic City hooker. For a month, this hooker would be home." 
That sounds cozy. Can you sublet a hooker?

The main character, Gia, after her spray-tanning session: 

"She left little orange footprints all over the floor of the bathroom, as if a melting Oompa-Loompa had padded through."
I hate it when that happens. Once an Oompa-Loompa melts on your tile, the floor will never look the same again, no matter how much you scrub.

"His chest muscles strained the fabric of his tank top. It fit across a tummy that was hard and flat enough to slice salami on." 
That's quite an image! Sure, it's an image of a guy getting his abs repeatedly sliced with a kitchen knife, bleeding all over your lunch meat, but still.

"When we kissed, I felt like a stick of butter on a subway rail. I melted."
I know, I know, you've never seen a stick of butter on a subway rail, never even thought about it before, but you're thinking about it now, aren't you? Never mind why it's there, it's melting, right? I mean, unless it's winter. Then the rail would be cold. Until a train comes. Then it will be squishy.

"The Seaside Heights drunk tank--on a weekday afternoon--was as clean and quiet as a church."
A church that reeks of vomit and urine.

And the book isn't without its life lessons. (I know, you thought the Downy softness lesson was enough).

"She could pour a shot of tequila down his belly and slurp it out of his navel without splashing any on her face." 
Find your strengths, kids.

"As soon as her boss left, Gia did a victory lap dance on the arm of the sofa....If only her mom could see her now." 
Dance like no one's watching, or like your mom wouldn't be disturbed if she were watching you simulate a lap dance.

And the novel was educational, too. I learned things about the legal system, for example.

Police and firemen show up at Gia's workplace after the landlord noticed smoke pouring from the windows. When they discover the smoke was caused by marijuana, here's what a policeman tells Gia and her co-workers:
"On behalf of the Seaside Heights police and fire departments, we expect some compensation for our efforts. Your choice. You can either pay a fine for creating a public disturbance, of you can volunteer to do community service." 
That's right, there's no DA, no court system, no tickets even. It's the police who decide on the charges and punishment, right there on the spot. 

And later, when Gia and Bella are arrested, Gia's love interest Fireman Frankie springs them from jail. No, not by paying their bond to bail them out, silly. That's not how it works:

"Slow down," she said, laughing. "How did you get us out?"
"I asked the chief of police to drop the charges."
Again, it's all up to the police. Well, police and a hot fireman. I can't believe how little I knew about criminal justice.

My favorite quote of all offers a history lesson. Here's where Gia describes a group of hippies sitting together on the beach:

"They were huddled together like a family of Ellis Island immigrants just off the Mayflower."
I still don't know if Plymouth Rock is on Ellis Island or if the Mayflower made multiple voyages from Europe to the colonies, but I maybe we'll find out in the next book.

As important as it is to know the rules of writing, it's just as important to know when to bend those rules. Or break them. Or completely shatter them to pieces so they're unrecognizable.

Sentence structure, for example. Trust your reader to figure out what you mean, no matter how you arrange your sentences.

"Gia stood up and started dancing on the spot to music that, like dolphins and small dogs, only she could hear." 
Yes, only she can hear dolphins and small dogs.

"They took a break from dancing on the red couch." You thought they'd been dancing on the couch, right? And now they're taking a break from that? Wrong! They were dancing--on the floor, like everyone else--and now they're sitting on the couch to take a break from that. Clearly.

And don't worry about sticking with one point of view. This book is told from six points of view by chapter 14, and yet another shows up in chapter 28. Usually the POV changed with a new chapter, but sometimes you're treated to more than one in a paragraph. In one chapter that's told mostly from Gia's point of view, we switch to the hotel manager for a few sentences before hopping back into Gia's hungover head.

You've probably heard too that to be a good writer, you have to read. Well, Snooki admits she's read only two books in her life. And look how that worked out. So there, sluts.