Very Special Spindlers Writing Challenge!

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Hey guys! So... I've decide to quit writing and join the circus instead. Ha ha, just kidding--there's no way I'm walking the tight rope. But I am going to let you all take a swing at writing my forthcoming book "The Spindlers!"

Here's what's up: For the new Writing Challenge I'm going to provide you all the first sentence of The Spindlers as a prompt...and I want all of you to tell me what the next 200 words will be! This time you only have ONE WEEK to get me your amazing ideas, and I'll post some of my favorites on this blog! Remember, stick to the 200 word limit--you don't want your fab writing to get disqualified because you went too far over.
Next week, after the challenge is over, I'll reveal the REAL first paragraph of The Spindlers! So hurry up and get me your pieces by 6/20/12... I can't wait to read them!
The first line of The Spindlers is..."One night when Liza went to bed, Patrick was her chubby, stubby, candy-grubbing and pancake-loving younger brother, who irritated her and amused her both, and the next morning, when she woke up, he was not."

Favorite First Lines

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A couple of days ago I announced the new Writing Challenge, in which asked you guys to take the first sentence of my new book The Spindlers and write the next 200 words. This got me thinking about first lines in general.It's amazing that sometimes the very first words leap straight off the page and into your heart. So to help further inspire you all in your writing, here are some of my favorite first lines in books! I'd love to hear what some of yours are!

And don't forget to get me your challenge submissions by 6.20.12!
Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road and met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo...
-James Joyce, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember the distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
--One Hundred Years of solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were normal, thank you very much.
--Harry Potter, dur

Strike spotted her: baby fat, baby face, Shanelle or Shanette, fourteen years old maybe, standing there with that queasy smile, trying to work up the nerve.
--Clockers, Richard Price

It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think he or she is wonderful.
--Roald Dahl, Matilda

Collaboration Challenge 3

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Once again, I was so amazed at the wealth of responses for this writing challenge. You guys are so awesome that all I can say is... keep it up! We're already at 800 words which means this story is REALLY HAPPENING!
Special thanks to Ashley S Morgan for contributing this weeks story segment! I can't wait to read what happens next! Get in your 200 word submissions by JULY 26th. to laurenoliverbooks@gmail.com! And thanks so much for going on this literary adventure with me!


MollyLampart's 12th birthday was much like every other day, only moreboring: first tea with the governess and a posed photograph with herparents, then a procession of girls who giggled and brought chinadolls wrapped in pink paper, despite the fact that Molly hated pinkand that most of her dolls ended up dissected for medical researchpurposes. There was no sneaking out the door to climb trees in thenarrow, well-tended backyard, or hanging out her window hollering atthe trains steaming into the station two blocks away, or helpingTabby chase rats from the cellar.
It was a day to be quicklyforgotten, except for one thing:

OnMolly's 12th birthday, just as evening was starting to turn the skythe exact color pink Molly particularly despised, the emerald trainarrived, seemingly out of nowhere.
Itstarted with a rumble, a roar, a whistle, and the earth shook withthe effort of keeping the train on its surface. The train wasradiant in the dying sun, spraying colors off the emerald sidesso that Molly had to shield her eyes just to watch. But the bestpart, the absolutely most wonderfully breath-taking part of thewhole thing, was the fact that it was braking.
Theemerald train was stopping in front of Molly's house.
Excitementbuilding, she ran from the window, leaped down the grand staircase,passedbutlers and maids and other people who did not notice the girl flyingout the doorofthe four-story mansion. Rushing across the gravel walkway, Mollyskidded on herheels,nearly toppling into the stone fountain. 
Shefelt her jaw drop as her eyes rose to the emerald train stoppedin her garden. It was immense, looming, giant, and yet, itwas beautiful. For the first time all day, for the first timeshe could ever remember, Molly felt rather small.
Mollystretched onto her toes, straining to make out the words on the sideof the train. She could just make out the words “WALNUT’SWONDROUS” in thin gold lettering, reaching toward the sky, whenthe train door burst open and. BAM. 
Mollyjumped.  To her delight, she saw a flood of brightlycolored acrobats pouring from the train cars. Music danced inthe air, pounding an infectious rhythm through Molly's bones. She wasso transfixed she did not immediately notice the large, dark man whocame after them. But soon she felt someone staring at her, and sheturned.
Therewas something wrong with his eyes. One eye looked as dark as theLondon night, but the other… the other was not real. It was awalnut, carved to resemble an eye. His mouth quirked up at the edgesas Molly stared back in fascination, and although she couldn't hearhim over the music, she knew what he said when he opened his mouth. Hesaid, “Welcome”.
Emboldenedby his hospitality, her own curiosity, Molly stepped forward, inchingcloser and closer, until she felt his breath tickling her forehead.She stared up at him, transfixed by that walnut eye, that strangewooden presence that seemed to be pulsing with life, with magic. On adizzying, maddening impulse, she reached up and gently traced itsswirling groves.
 “Pullit out,” he said calmly, as if suggesting the most natural thing inthe world. Molly stared at him in wonder, and her heart beganthumping crazily in her chest. Her palms now slick with sweat, shelooked at him for reassurance. He nodded. 
Shecurled her fingers around the edges of the rough bark and gave it agood yank. She felt a sudden blast of wind. And now the man was not aman, but something else: the socket expanded into a gaping blackhole. From the blackness emerged a swirling force, like a live coil,like a whirlpool, as rippling and colorful as the acrobats, and itsuck her in and down, down, down, making her stomach clench and thenexpand in a sickening flutter.  After an endless fall, she hearda splash, and felt a fierce, wet coldness turn her bones to ice.

REQUIEM ARC GIVEAWAY CONTEST!

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There are now officially exactly three copies of Requiem in the world. Just three. In the whole world. One is mine. One is for my dad. And the other... well the other is for one of you! 

What I want to know is why YOU should get that one Requiem ARC! Send me your stories! Are you a crazy Delirium fan? Do you have a great and and funny story that occurred because of your obsession? Happy/sad/good/bad/funny/serious/long/short... I want to read them all! Convince me!
Send all your stories to laurenoliverbooks@gmail.com , and put "Requiem Giveaway" in the subject line. I'll post my favorite stories up here on the blog, and even if you don't get the one copy, you might get on the list for future ARCs or other Lauren Oliver swag.
I can't wait!

Collaboration Challenge Pt. 4 !!!!

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So far I've gotten almost 200 responses to the Requiem ARC giveaway! I'm so excited to sit down and read all of those stories, but in the meantime I'm really excited to announce the next part of the collaboration writing challenge! Once again, we had a lot of great entries, so remember to keep submitting, even if yours hasn't yet been selected. There's a lot of this story yet to come and we need as many voices as possible. This week's story is extra long. The first part was written by, Heather Kirby, and the second part was written by my friend and assistant Natasha! Next week, along with you guys, I'll jump in with a second of my own!
I can't wait for you guys to let me know what happens next! Remember, send the next 200 words of the story tolaurenoliverbooks@gmail.com by  AUGUST 8TH. That's ONE WEEK guys! And have fun with it!
First part of the story here!
Molly was shaking now. She was lying in a freezing liquid. Her eyes had been closed tightly in fear. Now, opening them, she got onto her hands and knee’s, limbs shivering as she looked up through the soaking wet hair that had fallen into her face.
Noticing her surroundings, her mouth formed a small O. She was lying in a crystal blue stream. It was very shallow. She seemed to be in a meadow of a forest. The trees were like spindly shadows reaching up and up to the dark sky, black as night. Yet there was a glowing sun, it seemed. Molly noticed that even though she was in an utterly different place, the emerald train was still there, as were the acrobats who looked like shadows themselves, like the trees--standing quietly and watching her.
The one-eyed man stood watching her too. When Molly finally noticed him, he reached out his hand toward her.
“May I have that back, please?” he asked.
Molly realized that she was still holding onto his walnut eye. She scrambled to her feet and splashed through the stream until she was standing right next to him. She hesitated, realizing again how much bigger he was then her, but decided it was only polite to return the walnut to him. The second it touched his hand it disappeared, only to re-appear in his eeye socket. Magic, Molly thought to herself. If her transportation to another world hadn't convinced her, then that finalized it. This was a man of magic.
Molly had always wanted to see magic, but she was so overwhelmed by her new circumstances that she didn't know how to say what she really wanted to which was something like, “please-take-me-on-adventures-and-teach-me-magic-and-show-me-everything!” Luckily, she didn't have to figure out how to articulate this sentiment in a sane way because the the walnut-eyed man seemed to snap into action.
“Right then!” He bellowed, “I'm sure you know why you're here so we'll just get right to it then. The train stops here, so we'll be going by foot and cart. We should get through the woods tomorrow evening if we hurry.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Molly spoke up, “but I don't know why I'm here.”
“Interesting,” the man said, “but it's not my job to tell you. My job is to take you through the woods. We have a show on the other side.” He looked up and addressed his acrobats, “come on you lazies! The carts aren't going to pack themselves!”