Interview with Georgia McBride, Writer and Founder of #YALitChat

by Savannah J. Foley

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When I asked Twitter extraordinaire and pre-published YA author Georgia McBride for an interview, she responded in just the cutest way: “How could someone named Georgia say no to someone named Savannah?” An interview was born:

If you’re on Twitter you’ve probably seen her around… she’s under the moniker georgia_mcbride and hosts a weekly chat about YA genre topics under the hashtag of #YALitChat (read more about YALitChat here).

Georgia’s one cool cookie. As she states on her website, she “used to manage indie rock bands for a living, market new teen and tween (you heard me) music releases for record labels (N’SYNC, Sugar Ray, Fall Out Boy, Destiny’s Child) and produce large, complex websites along with their content, such as toysrus.com and shopping.com (an eBay company). But that seems like a lifetime ago. Fast-forward to today. Now, I write full-time.

I am an avid music lover, a songwriter and singer–though nowadays that takes place mostly in the shower and the car. When I am not writing, I am hanging out with my daughter, Girl Five-ish, my son, Two The Terrible (formerly known as Boy-Oneder) and our three Chihuahuas!”

Georgia was kind enough to take time out of her busy schedule (writing, querying, managing both #YALitChat and its community, and being a mom!) to answer a few questions for us:

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When did you first hear about/join Twitter?

I can’t recall when I first learned about Twitter or joined. I only know that I tried to avoid doing so for the longest time until it became a necessary part of my life.

What inspired you to begin #YALitChat?

There didn’t seem to be a concentrated effort being made to bring together YA professionals at all levels in one space on a regular basis. A twitter chat seemed like the logical solution.

What’s the purpose/function of #YALitChat?

YALITCHAT is actually a few things. It is a weekly gathering of professionals in the young adult publishing industry on twitter–that’s the chat part. It is also a young adult book publishing industry non-profit organization created for the advancement of young adult literature around the world. Current membership is right around 1500 international members from 22 countries.

It’s certainly made an impact in the writing world; how has #YALitChat made an impact on your life?

Wow. That would take much longer than the time I’m allotted here. What started as a simple weekly chat has evolved into an international membership organization with a reach far beyond twitter. Members have utilized the chat to not only secure agent representation and improve their writing but make friends around the world. The letters and emails I receive from members who thank me for the community overwhelms me at times.

How has #YALitChat has grown/evolved?

I never imagined the community would grow as much as it has, as quickly as it has. Even with twelve volunteers, the need of more than 1500 members is great–especially when you have an international basis and an “always on” promise. We’ve gone from a weekly chat on twitter to a full-fledged non-profit organization with employees in under one year. That’s not evolution, that’s a revolution.

What’s the goal/vision for #YALitchat?

The vision for YALITCHAT has always been to be the medium by which the world sees and understands young adult literature. Through our members and their works we aim to impact readers, reduce illiteracy, reduce prejudice and stereotyping and encourage reading in teens worldwide. Did you know that in some cultures or subcultures teens are afraid to be caught reading a book? That they’d be ridiculed for it?

An announcement went out lately about the #YALitChat foundation beginning to charge for membership. Can you talk a little about why that decision was made, and what benefits it will bring?

YALITCHAT was handed what I considered a huge blow a few months ago by Ning, our technology provider, when they told us they would charge all users a fee for  their service. I was already considering charging an annual fee and to begin advertising on our site, but had thought the days of doing so were at least a year away. Ning simply hurried that process along. The service that YALITCHAT provides is really priceless, and the fact that it is always on and available is a huge plus. Members don’t have to travel to a conference and pay huge fees to attend or pay for a hotel or airfare. They have access to well-published, NY Times and USA Today best-selling authors, agents, and editors all at the click of a mouse. They have peer critique support twenty four hours a day and seven days a week. They have a team of over 50 teen beta readers who gladly give open and honest feedback. There is a panel of agents seeking out new clients and others quietly trolling the site.

Then there is the content that is mined from around the web–hand-picked for the YA market and served right to members by topic to the different groups within the community. Should it be free? I wish I could afford to pay for it so that it could remain free. But I can’t. The time that it takes to maintain that site alone is worth–well–we won’t get into that. But for anyone to think that there isn’t cost involved with meeting the needs of nearly 2,000 members in 22 countries all day, every day using a technology rich system to deliver content, security, programming, response, interactivity, etc. I’ve been bearing the cost of this alone since November 2009. I can’t see how anyone could expect me, one person, alone to pay for the cost of YALITCHAT while everyone benefits from it.

I do understand that some people do not like to have to pay for that they have previously been getting for free and when they are asked to, they feel as if they should be getting more thrown in with it. There’s nothing I can do about those few people. You can’t make everyone happy and so I won’t try. My focus is the membership base that wants to be a part of something awesome. Those people who get what YALITCHAT is and the merit of the services we offer and feel that cost of an annual membership of $30.00 per year (students are FREE) seems like a bargain. Many were shocked that the fee was so low and had braced themselves for a much higher amount. Those people are excited about the new direction and see that change is good for all of us. With the establishment of YALITCHAT as a non-profit organization in June of this year, we’ve reached yet another milestone. We are now able to offer grants, scholarships, webinars and courses (listings are on our public site to our members that we haven’t been able to do before. I’m excited about the future. Keep watching the website for more news regarding changes. Change is good.

When did you first decide to be a writer? Was there an ‘aha!’ moment or some catalyst event?

You could say that being laid off, falling into a depression and assuming I was losing my mind after hearing voices was cataclysmic. Turns out the voices were those of my characters. I started writing as fast and as often as I could, often not sleeping. The result was the first draft of PRAEFATIO. I think the original version was like 140,000 words. Thank God for revision.

A lot of writers mention their characters ‘talking’ to them, but it happens in an internal way. Were you actually hearing voices or was it the internal voice speaking to you?

I actually heard their voices externally and thought I was going crazy. My husband was ready to send me to the looney farm. Gosh I hope I haven’t offended half the world. The only way to describe it is it sounds as if there is another person in the room with you–only there isn’t.

You haven’t offended us! What draws you to YA as a genre?

I read all genres–even picture books. I have small kids. I know that I could never write a picture book. I just don’t have it in me. It would start out all cute and cuddly then some otherwordly creature would come out of the forest and sneak up on the kid and try to kill it. I don’t think parents would like that. So, I tend to write books that teens can read. And they tend to have creatures in them that you would probably not ever want to encounter–asleep or awake. Did I answer your question? I think the bottom line is, I’m spooky and cynical. Younger kids need happy. I don’t do happy.

Tell us about Praefatio!

Grace wouldn’t let me sleep until I told her story. Three long months of daily blibber-blabbering in my ear and I had to write it. No inspiration–just constant noise from my characters. Grace, Gavin and Grace’s brother Remi spoke to me constantly as I wrote.

Summary: PRAEFATIO is about a girl who is believed to be a runaway and then assumed kidnapped by an international rockstar. When she is found on his estate, half-clothed and screaming for help the police assume they have their man. But Grace has quite a compelling tale for the police–one that they cannot believe. She tells them that she is an Archangel and her alleged kidnapper, is also a fallen angel. They think she has Stockholm Syndrome–a condition which causes her to have sympathy for her captor–and is that she is delusional. She must prove that she is sane and telling the truth about hers and Gavin’s identity without upsetting the balance between Heaven and Hell in the process (or getting herself killed).

We’ve seen the beautiful trailer made for Praefatio. Did you make it or did you hire someone? How much creative control did you have over the project?

I hired the super awesome M2 Productions. I had as much creative control as I wanted but I totally gave it up to Madison of M2 Productions as I trust her completely and knew I was in great hands. I basically sent her a synopsis and first chapter and she did the rest. She’s awesome. I never would have been able to come up with anything like that on my own. I get a ton of compliments on the trailer. Give it up for Madison!

What is the plan for Praefatio? Have you signed with a literary agent or publisher, or do you plan to self-publish?

PRAEFATIO is out on submission to agents but as I understand it is bad luck to talk about it. Thus, my lips are sealed.

We totally understand! Do you have Critique Partners?

I do not have formal critique partners. I have folks that I ask to look at my stuff who whack me up side the head when need be. Usually, it’s the team from The YA-5, my team blog. http://www.theya5.com which relaunches on July 19. Those guys are brutally honest and never let me write anything that will let me look like a moron.

It seems as if you’ve started a Georgia McBride literary empire! What’s the goal for you personally?

Empire? Hardly. I stay busy. I write, I run YALITCHAT and I write some more. I also read a lot, vet for a few agents and editors. I recently started offering critique and editorial services to unpublished writers as opposed to only pros. I figure I see so much. I may as well help the people who really need it. Link for more info is here.

Despite what you say, you ARE running an empire! 😉 With all this going on, do you also have the dreaded ‘Day Job’ on top of it?

I was laid off–I think I may have stated that earlier–in 2008 from my “day job” when all of this started. The voices that is. That is when I started writing their story–PRAEFATIO. I had no idea at the time that I was writing a book. I just had no idea.

Do your children know about how active you are in the YA community? What do they think about that, and about writing books?

My kids are 6and 2. My 6 year old says I take too long to finish any one book and my editor will not like it. She also adds that she’s better than me since she is the author AND illustrator of her books.

When were you inspired to start the YA-5?

I’ve wanted to do a team blog since last year but sadly, no one wanted to join me then. This year when I put the call out, it was a different story.

What’s the goal for the YA-5? How has it made an impact on your life?

The YA-5 is blog focused on teens–how they think, what they want and who they are. I think we are writers for teens tend to put up blogs that focus on us and our writer friends who are our age. We don’t focus on our teen audience. The YA-5 seeks to change all of that. We don’t want to tell teens what to read or think. We want them to tell us. We are actively engaged with teens and are blogging about it reporter style as The YA-5. Of course, we bring the perspective of each of our personalities into it so that’s what makes it unique. Does that make sense? We’ve had some growing pains and have taken a few weeks off for the summer but we re-launch on July 19.

Do you have plans for your next book?

I’ve been writing 2 books but as for which one is THE next ONE, I can’t tell at the moment. Neither of them has really grabbed me in the way that PRAEFATIO has. I suppose I will have to let the characters speak for themselves.

Where do you write? A desk, the couch, in bed?

I write anywhere I can as I have a dedicated home office with a desktop as well as a laptop. Sometimes I take my laptop outside and write on the back deck. It all depends on the mood, the weather and how much time I have. I’ve even written while waiting in line at carpool to pick up my daughter.

Who is your hero/mentor?

I always talk about JJ Abrams. I suppose I sound like a broken record. I learn from him every time I see his work. I take notes. It feels like school to me. It’s exciting and engaging and fun the way that learning about something you love should be. I appreciate that about him.

Favorites

Favorite author?

Judy Blume, Anne Rice

Favorite book?

Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret

Favorite ice cream flavor?

Chocolate

Favorite drink?

Sangria

Favorite season?

Spring

Favorite relaxation activity?

Massage

Favorite TV show?

Grey’s Anatomy

Favorite child? Just kidding!

Sam Jones-God rest his soul. Our beloved beagle who died in 2006.

If you could be any famous person from history, who would you be?

Princess Diana

If you could be any literary character, who would you be?

Too many to choose from. Sorry about that.

Favorite band/singer?

Madonna

Favorite song?

The Prayer by Andrea Bocelli

Thank you so much for joining us today! We really appreciated getting to know you better!

And now, for our readers, we have a special surprise… Georgia has agreed to let us share an excerpt of Praefatio!!!

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PRAEFATIO

CHAPTER 1

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After everything I’d been through, I can’t believe this was how it was going to end. This is the big finale. Everything they’d led me to believe was all a lie. Everything I’d done, everyone I’d lost, the things I’d sacrificed, the lives I’d taken–was it all for nothing?

It was hard to talk, let alone think with the nonstop pounding in my head. It hurt to blink, the dim lights seemed brighter than they should’ve been and the buzzing coming from the bulbs threatened to explode my eardrums. I suppose I deserved it.

The cop stared like I was a freak–straight out of some science fiction magazine. I suppose it made sense. I’d been mumbling incoherent words since they brought me in here. My mind was jumbled, scrambled as if trying to tune to the correct frequency but unable to. Flashes, memories from my past, what I was and what I had done all coming back, but not in the right order. Not in any way that would make sense to them.

They want to know–but I have no idea what I was doing on Gavin Vault’s estate; running, screaming, “HELP!” That I was barely dressed from the waist up is something of another mystery. That and the fact that I was supposed to have been missing for the past several months. I didn’t remember much but I knew something wasn’t right.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” I said as I sipped hot, institutional tasting liquid realizing what I had said made absolutely no sense to him at all. It was more like an accusation than a statement. “You ask me to speak yet don’t believe a word I say,” I continued sizing up the guy they’d sent to get me to talk. They were the most coherent words I’d spoken since they’d brought me in here.

The cop seemed confused. He watched as I sniffed the oversized sweater on loan rom one of the cops. I nearly puked from the smell of metal and rotting eggs. I grabbed my head in my hands as vivid images raced through my mind then left as quickly as they’d come. Nothing. I could barely make sense of them but I knew they belonged to me, to my mind. Memories that if I could only un-jumble them, would set me free.

I clutched my stomach then cleared my throat. The officer sent to baby-sit me just stared with an expression that was somewhere between boredom and loathing; like I was a nut that needed cracking; only he didn’t have the right tool.

Maybe I should wait for the female cop to come from St. Louis. The thought seemed more like a direction than a consideration.

“I’ll tell you everything; just as soon as my mother arrives,” I offered sitting back in the steel chair they used to try to make suspects uncomfortable. Turns out it worked on normal people too. Normal. People. Two words I hadn’t used to refer to myself in quite a while. Funny how things had changed.

The officer looked at me then down at his blank pad, then back at me he said, “Miss Miller, the female officer should arrive within the hour. Anything that you can tell us prior to her arrival would be very helpful. Do you need a doctor? Were you harmed in Any…way?” He leaned over the table, lowering his head and voice as he said the word ‘way.’

I tuned him out. His questions were insignificant. He wasn’t asking the right ones.

His limited ability to understand what was going on was a waste of my time–I could see that now. I wasn’t in the mood for his ineffective attempt at police interrogation of an alleged victim. I doubted the female would be much better. Besides, I had some questions of my own. My flashbacks were clearing and I was starting to feel a little more like myself–a little.

“How did you find me?” I asked in my most authoritative voice. I may not remember how I got here–exactly, but I did remember.

The question or my tone seemed to surprise him. He perked up.

“We received an anonymous tip,” he offered, raising his eyebrows and trying to sound secretive. Rookie.

They can’t hold me here. The thought entered my head along with a vision. A man, fuzzy, talking, handing over an envelope, fuzzy, pictures of me looking like something the cat dragged in, then gone. The pounding in my head kicked into overdrive.

“Why are you holding me here?”

“You’re a witness to a crime, Miss Miller. Has no one explained to you what is going on?” He sounded almost concerned. He leaned forward again, slightly and opened the file folder on the table. He wasn’t reading the notes, just looking at the photos as if he wanted me to see them without specifically showing them to me.

I decided to count the cracks in the ceiling paint rather than focus on his stupid photos. I may have even rolled my eyes.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to you, Miss Miller?” He asked in a soft voice, pushing the folder slightly closer to me, slowly.

“I already know what happened to me!” I shouted. “I was there, remember? You think you can come in here with some folder with clips from my tragic existence so you can get your story for the five o’clock news?”

I lurched forward and tried to grab the folder, catching Officer Bladen’s sleeve instead. He snatched his arm away as abruptly as if I’d burned him. I fell back into my chair and hit it harder than I intended.

My head was cloudy, stuffed with visions. I kept shaking and squinting but it didn’t help. Officer Bladen went back to staring as I shook my leg like a drug addict and drummed the table. I couldn’t tell if he was mentally challenged, tired or bored. It was disturbing to sit across from him with him staring at me like that.

“You said a crime had been committed,” I went on, calming my voice, trying to relax. I may have even taken in a deep breath. I needed to calm down.

“Uh, yes. A crime. You were, um…attacked,” he mumbled, sounding like a bumbling idiot.

“Attacked?” I was curious now, maybe even amused. He had managed to spark my interest. I’d been attacked before and trust me, no one would dare attack me in front of humans, I don’t think.

I was squinting to keep the light out of my eyes. “By what? Bear? Panther?

Wolf?” I teased, smiling. I was almost starting to have fun. The look on his face was priceless. Two-parts stupid and one part dumb.

“By what? Miss?” Officer Bladen squirmed in his chair as he checked his watch, then his cell phone, then his pager, as if he was expecting the Governor’s pardon.

“You said I was attacked. A crime had been committed. What exactly are you referring to?” I added extra impatience as I stared and wrinkled my brow.

“Well uh, Miss Miller. I assumed you would fill us in on the details of your, um, situation with Mr. Vault,” he said then checked his watch, then looked toward the open door.

“Let me get this straight. You arrest Gavin then bring me here to give you details of my ‘um situation?’” I snickered, remembering Titan’s words about how little of our brains we actually use.

Useless.

“I’ll just wait for my mom,” I huffed and shook my head. It was useless. They knew nothing and had nothing.

~~~

The station was bustling. Prior to my arrival, news broke of the biggest story this town had ever seen: The arrest of a rock star for kidnapping and attempted assault.

Officer Bladen was hoping for his moment in the sun. A statement from the alleged victim of Gavin Vault, lead singer of Venus Unearthed–would be headline news– worldwide. He could get that promotion, make detective and maybe even get up enough nerve to ask his girlfriend to marry him.

“She’s not going to say ‘yes.’” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Officer Bladen quickly scribbled psych eval’ on his little pad. I didn’t actually see the words. I saw them in my mind–then something else. Gross. I shook my head, trying to rid it of the vision of Officer Bladen’s girlfriend with…is that Sergeant Mullane? I blinked a few times to banish the image. Could this get any worse?

I was having the most bizarre time getting my wits about me. I kept turning my head from side to side like a dog trying to hear high pitched sounds. I could understand if OB was a little put off by me. OB–Officer Bladen. What can I say? He was starting to grow on me.

The cop, I mean–OB sighed heavily.

“When you’re ready to talk, you let me know. In the mean time, I’ll go see if your mom is here.” He threw the newspaper he’d been holding on the desk in front of me. I grabbed it before it hit, then flipped it around to find Gavin’s photo under the headline:

ROCK STAR ARRESTED IN DISAPPEARANCE OF MISSING PEEK GIRL

I read, intrigued by my own story–mine and Gavin’s. I couldn’t help myself.

Gavin Vault, lead singer of Venus Unearthed, was arrested on Christmas day for the kidnapping and attempted  assault of Grace Miller, daughter of Broadway actress Vivienne Miller. Miss Miller was reported as a runaway two months ago by her guardians, Victoria and Kenneth Larson; who took her in after her father died in a vehicular accident. There is suspicion that Mr. Vault may have knowledge about the disappearance of Miss Miller’s brother, Remiel and the Larson’s daughter, Jennifer who were reported missing three weeks ago. At the time of the arrest Miss Miller was found on the premises in questionable physical condition and is believed to be suffering from a condition similar to Stockholm Syndrome.

Officer Bladen left the stuffy room and closed the door behind him. I could tell he needed a break from me. Alone with my thoughts and visions I was able to piece many details of my life back together.

As I took the last sip of the liquid they proudly called ‘coffee’ and considered the report as to state of my mental health, I stood up to stretch my legs just as the door to the interrogation room swung open to reveal Gavin Vault leaning against the wall across from me. Every bit the rock star and not a hair out of place, he looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world as he laughed with the officers who’d arrested him. Gavin hadn’t been processed yet and was still in the clothes he’d been wearing when I saw him last. I’d forgotten to tell him how good he looked.

Can you hear me?

Our eyes met–just briefly. One of the officers began leading him down the hall. As I started to run to him, my legs were jerked back into place by what felt like shackles; only there weren’t any on me. I could only move about a foot from where I stood before being pulled back into place.

Gavin turned in my direction then lowered his head, as if the sight was too much for him to bear. Hot tears streamed down my face, burning my skin. I screamed, “Gavin!” shoving the steel table into Officer Bladen as he entered the room, closed the door and silenced the hallway noise.

Still, I heard them laughing and talking outside; which took me by surprise.

“What’s all the commotion about, Mr. Vault?” one of the cops asked him. By his tone, they seemed like they could have been old High School buddies. Except for the part that he addressed him as, “Mr. Vault.”

“Your poor victim threw a six-foot, steel table across the room at your rookie cop. Better go make sure he’s OK,” Gavin laughed his way down the hall. I thought I heard pride, disdain and maybe even sadness in his voice.

“A feisty one, aren’t you, Ms. Miller?” Bladen said rubbing his leg from the gash the table must have made in it. I didn’t see any blood.

Looking me up and down before settling on my midsection, then my breasts he said, “I can see what Mr. Vault finds in you.” A sly smile, then a painful grimace appeared as he sat down. Vile.

Intending to grab him by the neck, slam him against the door and threaten to slit his throat unless he told me where they were taking Gavin; I lunged forward only to be jerked backward by the invisible shackles around my feet. I hit the floor butt down.

Pissed was an understatement. I had no idea why I couldn’t move the way I wanted. Maybe Mom would have a plan. She would know why my legs were bound, feeling out of sorts and at the very least, how to get me and Gavin out of this hole.

~~~

Outside Gavin’s fans waited for news. I saw them–already lined rows-thick in solidarity on my way in. They chanted, sang, screamed, cried, fainted and threw themselves in front of police barricades. I had flashes of the goings on in my mind form time-to-time. I tried to tune them out. Some were angry, but most seemed sad or confused. Their hero had been arrested–accused of a horrible crime. His alleged victim was found with him at his home. How this would all play out, they could not be sure. I found comfort in the fact that they all seemed to love Gavin as much as I did.

The hero himself had as of yet not made any statement at all. Cavalier attitude, perfect hair and high-priced attorney aside, he was for all intents and purposes, another celebrity under arrest. I had no intention of testifying against him and no idea why these idiots thought he’d kidnapped me or worse; that he’d assaulted me. I would never destroy their hero–though, there was a very large crowd outside that was not too happy with me. And to be honest, I wasn’t all that happy with myself right now.

According to the wall clock, hours had passed while Officer Bladen and I sat in silence occasionally staring at one another, listening to the crowds. The only interruptions were Officer Bladen’s periodic rubbing of his arm hairs at seemingly timed intervals.

A knock on the doorframe brought us both out our trances of boredom. I think I was actually counting the hairs on his arm at the time.

“Ms. Miller,” intoned a female cop who poked her head in from the hallway.

Leaning in slightly and holding onto the doorframe as was contaminated and entering was not allowed she said, “Your mother’s arrived and is right outside. I suspect you’ll want to start with your videotaped statement now.” She crooked a tiny index finger and motioned for Officer Bladen to follow her out into the hall. And then she was gone.

Office Bladen jumped up to follow as if he was up for an Academy Award and closed the door behind him. It echoed as it clicked. It reminded me of a jail cell closing.

Are you kidding me?

They left me sitting there all alone. OB didn’t even say goodbye.

A voice came from somewhere on the other side. It sounded like Mom.

“Hi, Honey. Go ahead with your statement. Everything’s going to be just fine.

A red light on the video camera came on. I hadn’t noticed it until now.

“Mom?” I stood, ready to leave with her.

“Sit down, Grace,” Mom’s voice ordered. “Just give your statement and this will all be over with.”

“Mom…I’m not going with you?” My voice was small, almost mousey. The sound of the metal chair scraping along the concrete floor echoed in my ears as the weight of my depressed body sank back down.

“No honey, just please give them your statement so we can be done with this whole thing,” Mom instructed using the word ‘honey’ again laying it on thick. She had not come to get me at all.

“Miss Miller, please. Look into the camera, state your name for the record and start with your earliest recollections to when we found you tonight, OK? How you met Mr. Vault, how you came to be on his property, anything he may have said about your brother, Remiel or Jennifer Larson–anything from as far back as you can remember. Just take your time, Grace. If you need a break, just let me know,” Sergeant Mullane said through the overhead speakers.

I cleared my throat and spoke into the microphone, “Archangel Grace Ann Miller.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Grace. Can you repeat? Not sure we caught that,” Sergeant Mullane requested.

“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I repeated only slightly louder.

“Did she say what I think she said?” The female cop from St. Louis asked.

“Grace, I’m sorry. Can you please repeat your name and speak directly into the microphone in front of you?” Sergeant Mullane instructed louder this time.

“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I stated as loud as I could without yelling.

I didn’t hear anything after that.

~~~

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