With Parallel on the shelves and Book 2 into my editor, I’ve started working on my idea for Book 3, a third standalone YA that feels contemporary but has slight sci fi elements.  I’ve got the basic concept down, but I haven’t named my three main characters yet.  So I was thinking, why not let one of you do it?

Here’s how it’ll work:  Tweet me a pic of Parallel on the shelf in your local bookstore and you’re automatically entered to win (double entries if you post it on Instagram, too).  If your bookstore hasn’t stocked the book, you’ll get TWO entries if you order it into the store (again, double entries for Instagram, which brings you to FOUR!)You don’t have to buy it — just order a copy at the counter and tweet me some sort of photographic proof (like a pic of the computer at the counter, or the employee who ordered it, or you standing in the store).  Easy, right?

You’ll be entered to win for every bookstore you visit, with double entries for the stores that don’t have it on the shelf (assuming you remedy that problem, of course).  Just make sure to include your pic and the name of the bookstore in your tweet.   Oh, and don’t forget to include the hashtag #bookstoreblitz and my handle, @lmillerwrites.

Here’s an example:

#parallel on the shelf at B&N in Marina Del Rey!  #bookstoreblitz @Lmillerwrites 

I’ll pick the winner on May 30th, and he or she will get to name a main character in Book 3!  Name it after yourself or someone else.  Up to you!

Good luck.  Can’t wait to see your pics.

xoxo

Lauren

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• parallel
• tweetstakes
• bookstoreblitz

It felt a little like my wedding day.  There were logistics to think about, a fluctuating guest list, fears about how the hors d’oeuvres would taste, and a dress I was suddenly not sure about.  My family was in town, and they kept asking me how I was feeling and whether I was excited.  

Be in the moment, I kept reminding myself.  Enjoy this.  You only have a book party for your debut novel once.  Still, it was hard, mostly because there were so many details to think about.  Would the high school jazz trio have room to set up on the stage?  Should we ice the drinks or just serve them cold?  Where should I sign books?  What should I say to the crowd?  

Would there even be a crowd?

There was a crowd.  It’s hard to know how many we had since The Last Bookstore has two floors and people were rarely in the same place at the same time, but we sold out of books and after two hours the caterers were out of food.  It was what I’d been hoping for, a successful party, but when all was said and done, it wasn’t the size of the crowd that made the night for me.  It was two guests in particular who showed up.

The first was Stacee, aka @book_junkee, who drove up from San Diego just to meet me and have her books signed.  Stacee wrote a review of the event which you can read on her blog, Adventures of a Book Junkie.  When I first got to the bookstore, around 6pm, the guy behind the counter told me I had some “fans” who’d already arrived.  I assumed this meant my best girl friends, who I’d cajoled into coming early so the place wouldn’t be empty when the party started.  But a few minutes before 7pm, I looked over and saw a girl I didn’t recognize but somehow knew was Stacee, since I’d seen on Twitter that she was coming.  I figured she lived in LA and was coming for the food and music and books.  But no.  She lived in San Diego and she couldn’t stay for the food or music — she just came for one book, mine.  She’d already read it and loved it and just wanted a signed copy.

When she said this, I just sort of stared at her, overwhelmed that she’d come all that way and that I didn’t have anything to give her, other than my lame signature and some bookmarks.  I literally looked around the area where we were standing, trying to find something to offer her, because certainly she couldn’t be satisfied with what she had.  Even my inscription in her book felt inadequate.  #notetomyparallelself:  bring something super cool and meaningful to your book party to give to Stacee.  

It may sound cliche or precious, but meeting Stacee was the first of two highlights of my evening.  Not because she came the farthest (though that was touching), but because she came solely because she loved my story. She didn’t owe me anything.  There wasn’t an iota of obligation in her decision to drive all that way.  She simply showed up to have a book she loved signed by the its author, and that made the entire event worthwhile.

The second highlight of my evening happened about 15 minutes later, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned around, expecting my sister or one of my girl friends, but it was a face I hadn’t seen since my wedding (okay, there was that one time we pulled up next to each other at a stop light, but that’s a whole other story).  Anyway, this face.  It belonged to my best college guy friend, the one whose room I retreated to on a near daily basis freshman year to sob over my high school boyfriend who stunk at long distance relationships.  This friend will always be dear to me, but had you told me we would never see each other again, I wouldn’t have been surprised.  Our lives veered apart a long time ago.  But there he was.  At my book party.  Unlike Stacee, he didn’t come for the book.  He came only for me.  I kept hugging him, unable to get over the fact that he was there.  He was gone by the time I was finished signing books, so I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye or to thank him for making my night.

The rest of the crowd were people I was less surprised but no less grateful to see.  My immediate family and a cousin who drove out from Mojave.  The couples in my small group.  Former co-workers.  Law school pals.  Friends from church.  The people who’ve been with me on this journey from the beginning, before any of us knew if I had it in me to write a book. Thank you, friends, for celebrating with me.  Looking out at their faces, I felt again how blessed I am to have them in my life.

So after all that waiting, the party is over, and tomorrow is the big day.  Parallel will hit shelves, and I’ll have to let go of my story once and for all.  It’s scary and exhilarating and altogether awesome.  It’s a moment worthy of a kick-butt party.  

Exactly what I had.

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• parallelparty
• laurenmiller
• parallel
• @lastbookstoreLA
• lastbookstoreLA

Guys.  PARALLEL comes out in 12 DAYS.  And yes, I’d love for you all to buy a copy, but I have a beautiful hardcover copy here in my hands that’s just dying to be given away.  So here’s the deal:

Tweet a message to your younger parallel self with the hashtag #notetomyparallelself and you’re automatically entered to win.  If you follow me on Twitter (@LMillerWrites) and retweet the tweetstakes rules, you’ll be entered twice!  Make sure to include my handle on your tweet. 

What should you tell your parallel self?  It’s up to you!  In PARALLEL, Abby’s parallel self is one year younger than Abby.  What a difference a year makes, right?  If I were 18, I’d definitely tell the 17 year old version of me NOT to cut all her hair off.  So my tweet might look like this:

Dear parallel, pls don’t rock the boycut this year.  #notetomyparallelself

Next Friday, 5/10, I’ll pick a winner at random.  The lucky tweeter will receive an autographed hardcover copy of PARALLEL and a super cool vintage Yale t-shirt in the size of his or her choice!

Three additional winners will receive bookmarks and a signed ARC of PARALLEL! 

The fun starts NOW.  Happy tweeting!!

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• parallel
• tweetstakes
• notetomyparallelself

Abby never expected to be starring in a Hollywood blockbuster and dating a leading man on the night before her eighteenth birthday.  She had always planned on a different path, one that included college.  Well, she gets her wish: she wakes up in a dorm room at Yale, where it appears she has been for weeks.  With the assistance of her friend Caitlin’s knowledge of parallel universe theory, and a helpful professor, Abby soon realizes that a cosmic shift has taken place.  The narrative shuttles back and forth in both time and location between Abby and her “parallel,” leading Abby to discover that the smallest decisions can lead to drastically different paths. While the narrative jumps take some getting used to, Miller ably depicts Abby at different points on her journey, with complex side characters and a cleverly nuanced romantic triangle. Adding questions of quantum mechanics, predestination, and soul mates to the day-to-day friendship, family, and boyfriend issues firmly situates this debut next to Cat Patrick’s books or Lauren Oliver’s Before I Fall.   — Heather Booth

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• @alabooklist
• parallel

This was originally posted on Blythe Harris’s Finding Bliss In Books, but I thought it was worth reposting here:

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• parallel
• laurenmiller
• sci chic

I promised an excerpt from PARALLEL if views off the book trailer hit 1,000.  That happened (yay!) so here’s your excerpt.  It’s from the beginning of Chapter Two of the book, the first “THERE” chapter (which means it takes place in a parallel world).

THERE

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2008 (the day before my seventeenth birthday)

“Abby? Abby, honey, wake up.”

My eyes fly open. My mom, still in her pajamas, is sitting on the edge of my bed, her face the picture of calm. I appreciate  her effort, but I know instantly that something is wrong. There is much too much sunlight in my room.

“What time is it?”

“Five till eight.”

I blink. For a moment I am still, calculating the exact number of minutes between now and the time the late bell rings. Thirteen.

“Abby?” My mom is clearly confused by my stillness. We both know there’s no way I’m making it to school on time, which means I’ll miss the beginning of the senior parking lottery. They start at the parking spot closest to the building and work their way toward the street, drawing names from a box at lightning speed. In order to claim your space, you have to be present at the drawing when they call your name.  If you’re not, game over. You’re automatically relegated to the annex lot across the street.

I spring out of bed. “Why didn’t my alarm go off? And why is my alarm clock on the floor?” I point an accusing finger at the base of my nightstand, where my clock radio is lying facedown on the carpet. My mom bends to pick it up.

“There was an earthquake last night,” she replies, setting the clock back on my nightstand. It’s blinking 12:00. “At least, they think it was an earthquake.”

“There was an earthquake? In Atlanta?” I stare at her. “How is that even possible?”

“Apparently, it’s not the first time it’s happened. And it wasn’t just here, either.” She presses the radio button on my clock. The familiar sound of my favorite morning news program fills the room.

“No significant damage or injuries have been reported, but people are reporting power outages in various parts of the city. This is the third earthquake to hit the Atlanta area since 1878. Seismologists are baffled by the quake, which, despite its relatively small size—only five point nine on the Richter scale—appears to have triggered seismic activity all over the globe.”

I wonder briefly if I’m still asleep. An earthquake felt all over the world?

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• parallel
• lauren miller