Tag Archive for: Jessica Conant-Park

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“I Want To Be In Your Book.” “No, You Don’t.”

When you’re an author, everything around you is fodder for creative writing. The crazy characters you run into, odd experiences, etc. We get to take moments from real life and twist them into fictional fun, reworking them to suit our story needs. (Of course, not everything in our books comes from real life, and every writer will tell you that nothing is more irritating than having people assume that an entire book is based on reality. We have creativity, damn it!) There have been several occasions when I’ve been out with my mother and something offbeat has happened… and then both of us will simultaneously yell, “I get that one for a book!” Then one of us takes it and warps it to our needs. We’re all just power hungry.

People often claim that they’d love to be in your book. They ask you to write about them. They beg you. “I want to be in your book!” I always think, “No, you don’t.” The truth is that the fictionalized version of that person might not be so flattering. Writing about someone completely mentally sound, totally “normal,” or incredibly sweet is not always that interesting. So if we do want to write about you, there’s a good possibility that you should be offended. What we keep our eyes out for is quirky, complex, and bizarrely enticing. Weird. There are exceptions to this rule, of course, but if you have legions of writers penning you into novels, you may want to grab a seat on a psychoanalyst’s couch. I may develop a character around someone that I know, but the fun in being a writer is that I get to then re-form that character as I want or need for my story. I have yet to actually put someone as they are into anything I’ve written, although some characters have hit pretty close to home. No, I’m not telling you which ones.

My son has asked me a million times to put him into one of my books, but I’ve never had a good opportunity to fit him in. But then, after doing a hundred Facebook status updates about funny things that he’s said, I started a blog called “What the Kid Says (And Sometimes What I Say).” I wish that I’d started keeping this record of our conversations earlier, because it’s going to be so fun to look back on this years from now. And use it against him when he has girls over. No, no, I wouldn’t do that. Fine, I probably will, but it’ll be funny and serve as good leverage when he’s in trouble.

Some of our conversations are sweet, some ridiculous, some sad, and others nonsensical. Here is a blip into life with my kid:

Love and Soda Hats
Kid: Mommy, I love you.
Me: I love you, too.
Kid: My heart is open.
Me: What does that mean?
Kid: It means that my heart has been taken.
Me: Where did it go?
Kid: My heart went to yours because I love you.
Me (trying not to sob over this adorably sappy exchange that is about to be unceremoniously cut short): I absolutely love you, kiddo.
Kid: Can we get one of those soda can hats?
Me: Um… what?
Kid: You know, those hats with the tubes so you can drink–
Me: NO!

And this one:

Ex-cuuuuu-se Me!
I walk into my bedroom and find the kid stretched out on my bed, watching his TV show, and using my laptop.

Me: What are you doing? You’re supposed to be getting ready for bed.
Kid: Well, ex-cuuuuu-se me!
Me: Ex-cuuuuuse-se you for what?
Kid: Excuse a guy for wanting to hang out with his mother!
Me: Nice try. Go to bed.

And possibly my all-time favorite:

Lake What…?
So I’ll confess that we were watching the best of the worst cheesy movies ever. But so what?

Kid: What movie is this?
Dad: “Lake Placid.”
Kid: “Lake Acid”?
Dad: “Lake PLACID.”
Kid: “Lake Flaccid”?
Me: “LAKE PLACID”!!!

What a difference one letter makes…

The kid is pretty thrilled and honored that I have a blog devoted to him, and that I put an expanded collection of these pieces together as an e-book. He has yelled at me on a few occasions for putting up what he considers embarrassing things, but like I said, I now have excellent leverage for those teenage years.

-Jessica

Jessica Park is the author of five Gourmet Girl mysteries (written as Jessica Conant-Park), the YA novel RELATIVELY FAMOUS, and two e-shorts, FACEBOOKING RICK SPRINGFIELD and WHAT THE KID SAYS (AND SOMETIMES WHAT I SAY). She grew up in the Boston area and then went to Macalester College in frigid St. Paul, Minnesota. During her freshman year, there was a blizzard on Halloween, and she decided that she was not cut out for such torture. So after graduation, she moved back to the east coast where, she’d forgotten, it still snows. Oops. She now lives in New Hampshire with her husband, son, bananas dog named Fritzy, and two selfish cats. When not writing, she is probably on Facebook, pining over 80s rock stars or engaging in Gleek activities.

http://yaauthorjessicapark.blogspot.com/
http://whatthekidsays.blogspot.com/
https://sites.google.com/site/conantparkmysteries/
Facebook: jumby24
Twitter: JessicaParkYA
http://www.cafepress.com/RelativelyFamous

Book links:

Facebooking Rick Springfield (and Other Musings of a Scattered Writer)

What the Kid Says (and sometimes what I say)

Relatively Famous

The Gourmet Girl’s Un-Gourmet Son

Jessica Conant-Park lives in Manchester, NH with her chef/husband, Bill, and their son, Nicholas. Jessica writes the Gourmet Girl mysteries with her mother, Susan Conant. Their cozy, culinary, chick lit series is set in the Boston restaurant scene…recipes included!

I come from a food-oriented family, no question. My parents have been cooking up gastronomic treats for as long as I can remember, learning from Julia Child’s television show in the ‘70s and experimenting in the kitchen with their own recipes. I grew up on meals from across the globe and eagerly visited local ethnic shops with my parents, browsing through the Greek market for spanikopita and tabouhli. I was bitterly disappointed with the disgusting cafeteria fare offered by my college and spent vacations home devouring all the good food I could get my hands on. I even stayed true to my love of food by marrying a very talented chef, my husband Bill. He wooed me with culinary delights and I fell madly in love with him and his cooking. I even started writing the Gourmet Girl mystery series in honor of my food obsession.

When I found out I was pregnant, my husband and I immediately started planning how we would make our own baby food and raise a child who ate more than macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. I must say, we were full of smug superiority knowing that our child would be born with a genetically enhanced palate. We would take him to restaurants and order him honey-glazed chicken with olive risotto, Vietnamese noodle dishes covered in vegetables, or shrimp gumbo!

The first time I fed him that icky baby cereal was a monumental event for me and I distinctly remember feeling that, despite the blandness of the food item, this was the start of a lifetime of gourmet eating! When it was time for more advanced foods, I followed the pediatrician’s advice about starting him on vegetable purees before fruits so he wouldn’t get too interested in the sweet fruit and reject the vegetables. All went well and Nick loved the spinach, squash, and even the lentils! I just knew it! How many babies love lentils? I thought.

Ha! This is what you get for being so full of yourself: our son, Nicholas, couldn’t have cared less about our pre-natal predictions for his culinary enthusiasm. The post jarred-food days are when things started to go downhill. Aside from his love of Chinese dumplings, Nick refused to touch anything out of the ordinary. My pasta salads that were loaded with beans and finely diced veggies were hurled at the wall. The organic fruits were tossed at the dog and the scrambled eggs full of turkey and cheddar were simply mashed up on his highchair.

To make matters worse, he developed a milk allergy and I had to remove all dairy from his diet for a few years. I can’t say I was a big fan of many of the soy products, but despite my creativity in offering up interesting meals, my kid wanted nothing to do with my cooking. Even when the milk allergy resolved itself, Nick simply refused to eat what Bill and I ate; one taste of that orange mac and cheese and all hope was gone! (I’ll never forgive Bill for making that…)

Nick is seven-years-old now and continues to eat the tiniest variety of foods! I could probably list on one hand what he’ll eat and none of those things include anything vaguely resembling a vegetable; in fact, God forbid a fleck of parsley show up on his plate. “What’s that green thing????” he’ll scream in horror.

My husband even came up with a game he calls Food Fear Factor; he closes his eyes and lets Nick feed him mystery items and then they switch roles. Poor Bill has suffered through mouthfuls of black pepper followed by pickled beets. (Um, why we have pickled beets in the fridge, I have no idea…) When it’s Bill’s turn to feed Nick, he usually picks something mundane like plain, unseasoned chicken breast. No matter what boring item Nick gets in his mouth, his turn in the game is invariably marked by wails of disgust and a variety of gagging noises. So much for Food Fear Factor.

The pediatrician reassures me that he will, in fact, grow out of this. Apparently my chef husband was actually the same way as a child and was extremely picky about what he ate, so I do have hope for Nick. He is growing like a weed and his doctor estimates he’ll be about 6’ 2” so he is obviously getting what he needs from his limited diet. I refuse to get into food struggles with him and so continue to offer different things with the belief that one day a light will go off and he’ll discover the joys of fancy Italian pasta dishes, fresh seafood baked in foil packets with herbs and vegetables, and upscale delicacies like foie gras and lobster. How humiliating that the son of a culinary mystery writer and a chef has zero interest in consuming anything beyond peanut butter sandwiches and grilled cheese! For now, I have accepted that this Gourmet Girl has a son whose greatest culinary interest is suggesting new titles for my series. So far, his top choices are Eat That Chicken and Kill That Turkey. I think both of those come from seeing a copy of Nancy Fairbanks’ Turkey Flambe lying next to my bed….but, hey, it’s a start!

Jessica Conant-Park
http://conantparkmysteries.googlepages.com/