My favorite season? Fall. Maybe it's because I live in California, where we get only a few colored leaves and just a touch of crisp air, but we don't have to get stressed about forthcoming blizzards and ice storms. I spent two falls in Virginia and loved them, even with the idea of winter on its way.
And spring? Well, I like it. I mean, it's okay. I do like that the sky gets lighter earlier in the morning, so I don't have to get up and actually function in the dark. I like seeing if we get a new bird or two on our deck--we had Orioles for the first time this year. And, lately, I do seem to be feeling the cold of winter more (I know, I sound ancient...), so the warmth that is hitting mid-day feels good.
But...spring also means summer, which means hot. Not Virginia hot, or New York hot, but warm enough for me and our non-air-conditioned house. And summer means unstructured time, which is always tricky for me.
I could worry about it, I guess, and a small part of me is. I have lots of writing I want to do in the next few months--a first draft I want to get rolling on, a revision I just stepped into and am getting excited about, a freelance article or two, and some other...possibilities. I'm setting some new running objectives, too, trying to up my strength and increase my speed--just enough so I feel like I'm not forgetting about this part of my life. What it all means, though, is that as my writing goals grow, my writing hours for any one project are definitely shrinking.
What am I going to do about it all? Well, I'm working very hard on NOT stressing. I'm going to pull out my calendar and get things scheduled out, because that usually makes a big difference for me. I am going to keep up the running, because if I let that go too long, I get more tired and cranky and unproductive. (Don't ask me when I became THAT kind of person!)
And the bottom line is that I'm going to write. Something every day, and maybe a bit of more than one project on any given day. I've played a bit with the idea of
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
susanwrites' letters to & from her characters, and I may go a bit more in that direction. Maybe revise in the morning, and play with story and hero ideas in the evening? Juggling multiple, BIG projects looks pretty intimidating if I let it stare me right in the face, but if I step back and take some deep breaths, I'm pretty sure I can make some progress. I'm thinking that's what it's all about.
How do you keep multiple projects moving forward? Are you able to work on more than one "thing" during a day? During a week? Or do you have to break your time into bigger chunks? How do you keep the stress levels down?
- Mood:
hopeful
This is the winner who's comment said: A friend of mine gave me the book to review for a possible purchase for our quilt guild. Since my husband had a doctor's appointment, I took it with me to read. His appointment lasted all of 10 minutes and I found myself reading in the car while my husband drove and then when all errands were done, I plopped down in my favorite chair and finished the book at 6 that night. Dinner was not was promised but it was food. There are more important things to nourish our minds and bodies and emotions with than what we put in our mouth! Thanks Terri for an articulate quilt mystery. It kept me glued to the book!
Next Monday, our critique group meets again. If we haven't heard from you by then, we'll have to pick another winner! We can do this. The pieces of paper with the commenters on them are small and light. We'll drink lots of caffeine first.
But we really want you to send the book! :)
- Mood:
determined
Vroman's Bookstore. I stopped today on my way back home, thinking the hour parking spot outside would be enough time. Well...THE ENTIRE HUGE TOP FLOOR IS ALL KIDS BOOKS! I don't know when, or if, I've ever seen so many books for kids in one spot.
And the bookseller there? She basically spent the whole hour helping me psychoanalyze my son's reading tastes and pick books he will probably, actually try out! I'd say a book, and she knew what it was. She'd mention a possibility, and it was something he'd loved. We browsed and chatted and basically took apart (and put back together) the poor kid's whole reading personality.
When I mentioned I'd read about the store on Lisa Yee's blog, her smile just about split her face. That smile wasn't for me, as glad as she was to have me there, but for Lisa--for the fact that Lisa is part of her world.
I'm telling you, break out the frequent flyer miles and your book budget for the next year, and just go!
- Mood:
enthralled
Her father and mother owned two pet stores, where she got to play with puppies and kittens, but also with lion cubs (leopards? cheetahs?) and monkeys. Is it any wonder she grew up to be a veterinarian. My other grandfather put his back out during the depression and came off nine months of no work to become one of the first four salesman for Rykoff company, a restaurant-supply business that's still around. Salary? None. A shy man, he had to go out and get a customer before he earned anything.
If you knew LA in the seventies and eighties, if you ever drove down the 405 past Westwood and UCLA, you knew the big yellow sign at the top of one of the skyscrapers. MONTY'S. Monty was my great-uncle, and he owned three steakhouses throughout the LA area. He knew Jack Webb, and his son occasionally played an extra, getting "arrested" on shows like ADAM-12 and CHIPS. You can imagine how cool we thought that was.
When I was young, the smell of smog was a good smell, because it meant coming to visit Grandma and Grandpa. We'd swim in the neighbor's pool, or at another great-uncle's. We'd sleep on the living room floor, watching the branches of the tree outside sway shadows agains the big, picture window. And we'd wake up to smell bacon, or to hear Grandpa coming in the front door, saying, "Guess who I met at the grocery store?" Who?! Who?! (Grandma and Grandpa lived in Hollywood, so you never knew.) Even when he held up the pancake mix box and said, "Hungry Jack!" we'd laugh instead of groan, because, you know...it was Grandpa.
After college, I had my first "real" job in LA. I did closed-captioning, and I worked on a studio lot, where we'd come giggling onto our shift talking about which star we'd seen getting out of their car. I could stand in the parking lot, look out the gate, and know that I was working directly under the HOLLYWOOD sign. Yes, that one. When I went down there to "house hunt," a favorite great-aunt who lived in the Los Feliz hills drove and walked me all over until we found the apartment I needed. The day I moved in, her husband (yet another great-uncle!) showed up with his toolbox, to make sure anything that wasn't perfect, became perfect.
This great-aunt and great-uncle, two of my grandparents, and a third cousin who died much too young, are all buried in Mount Sinai Memorial Park. I drove by the exit today, and I waved. At their funerals, I thought they were gone forever. I still miss them all, but I understand a little bit more today about how not-gone they also are.
I don't know if I'll ever write about Los Angeles, but if I do, it will be a story of layers, of generations, of comings and goings.
The freeway signs are the same. The cracks and bumps and curves of the freeway haven't changed. The smog smell was there today, not as strong as it used to be, but it was good again. When I left Los Angeles many years ago, what I mostly felt was relief. Believe me, there is a difference between Northern and Southern California, and there is a difference between the people who are happy in either place. In my small mountains, between San Jose and Santa Cruz, I've found that place for me. But still...
I wasn't sure, when I started out yesterday, about making the drive. It's a long haul, and my car isn't new. Maybe I should have flown.
This afternoon, I'm pretty sure I made the right choice. And I think I've already gotten back the price of gas.
Where are your roots? Whether you grew up there, whether you happily left it for somewhere else, where is the place that still feels like home?
- Mood:
nostalgic
Who was it that told me to schedule two writing events on two subsequent weekends? Oh, wait, I remember. I told me.
Actually, it's not too bad. I had such a great time in Ohio, and while it did take me a couple of days and a couple of naps to recover, I also had a productive five days this past week. I got two first steps for "possibles" out the email door, and my co-author (Lee Lofland) and I sent the LAST CHAPTERS of our kids' book about police officers off to the editor. (Happy Dance!) I'm sure there'll be revisions to do, but there's a definite feeling of DONE around my office today.
Good timing, too, since today I'm off to Southern California, to moderate a panel for the monthly meeting of Sisters in Crime, Los Angeles. The panel consists of authors Betty Hechtman, Gay Toltl Kinman, Kathryn Lilley, and Gerald Schiller. We get to spend the whole meeting talking about writing mysteries for both kids and adults. My life is just so tough these days. :)
And the nice thing is, I'm not getting on an airplane. Not once. Normally, I love flying. I even like airports. But having just done it last weekend, and having done a LOT of sitting around listening to other travelers on their cellphones, explaining why they weren't where they were supposed to be yet...well, the car is sounding pretty nice. My parents live halfway between here and LA, so I'm breaking up the trip down at their house tonight--dinner, good company, and an early Mother's Day gift drop. I think my parents are still pretty amazed that their shy daughter actually goes out and talks in front of people (the daughter is pretty amazed herself, sometimes), so it's probably a good thing to stop by and reassure them that I haven't actually been taken over by aliens!
Then Sunday, I'll head down to the meeting and spend the night in Pasadena. Monday will be quite the drive--straight up California's central valley on Highway 5. For all the decades I've lived in California (pretty much since the day I was born), I've never driven 5 all the way from the South to the North. If any of you know the area, you'll know that, as dotted as the roadsides are with all sorts of green and growing agriculture, it's not exactly the most stimulating of routes. That's okay. I've got music and a couple of books on tape, including Bill Cosby's greatest hits. If Bill can't keep me awake, nobody can.
So think of me this weekend, and if you're cruising along 101 or 5 yourself, watch for a woman with frizzy wild hair laughing her head off as she drives.
- Mood:
productive - Music:Bonnie Raitt--The Glow
Last week, though, I had a new answer. And that was, who wouldn't want to be a writer, when there are writers out there like these? Five incredible children's writers, Thalia Chaltas, Mary Hershey, Valerie Hobbs, R. L. La Fevers and Lee Wardlaw are offering a grant to this summer's SCBWI conference in Los Angeles.
For full information, look at the fAiRy gOdSisTeRs, iNk post on the Shrinking Violet Promotions blog.
What a good world it sometimes is.
- Mood: touched
Got you. No, we have a winner, but the commenter didn't sign her (I think!) name to the comment. So...trusting in all your inate honesty, would "Anonymous" who got so "glued" to her borrowed copy of Wild Goose Chase that she almost forgot to cook dinner please email me at: becky77 at verizon dot net. Your own, signed copy of Terri's first book awaits you. (You'll probably want to order take-out for the day it shows up!)
Watch for more blog contests this summer!
Now...last week, Martha Alderson at The Plot Whisperer awarded me the Excellent Blog Award. Martha is a wonderful writer and teacher and the author of Blockbuster Plots, You can read all about her at Blockbuster Plots for Writers. I was being the proverbial headless chicken last week, so I didn't have a chance to do more than say, "Thank you," then rush on to the next item on my to-do list. I'm settled back in now (TEN big hours of sleep last night!), and it's time to pass on the honor.
The "rules" of the Excellent Blog Award are that when I accept it, I get to award it forward...to ten more bloggers. My first though--oh, cool! This'll be easy. And it was...easy to think of at least ten bloggers. The harder part was narrowing it down to only ten. If you are like me, you read WAY too many blogs during the week, but there are just so many writers out there delivering informative, helpful, and (for me, a biggie!) funny posts. If we all got carried away, though, and gave awards to all our favorite blogs, well, I'm not sure even the Internet is big enough.
So, today, I'm giving the Excellent Blog Award to:
cathyipcizadeThe Cybils Awards
Faster Than Kudzu
The Graveyard Shift
jeannineatkinsJen Robinson's Book Page
lisayee The Plot Whisperer
Shrinking Violet Promotions
susanwrites- Mood: pleased
- Music:The Essential Paul Simon
Head on over to
cathyipcizade for a wonderful Monday morning pep talk. She's hearing a lot of talk from writers lately about giving up, and she's here to tell us all to knock it off. Only a lot more nicely. Plus, she adds a great description of her own path from just starting out to where she is today, a published author and teacher! Give up? I have to admit, I don't get it. What would I do if I wasn't writing? I understand getting low and shelving projects and wandering around my office, muttering to myself about dead ends and dark days of the soul and lack of chocolate. But quitting? Might as well ask me to dye my hair orange, change my name, and go happily into a witness-protection program in some hot, humid, south-of-the-equator location. 'Cause that's how different I'd have to be to give up writing.
Hang in there. Breathe. And as I heard Hallie Ephron remind us all this weekend, celebrate everything. Even a rejection letter is proof you're writing and putting your writing out there!
- Mood: determined
- Music:Roy Rogers & Norton Buffalo--Travelin' Tracks
Happiness is a hotel wireless connection that works!
- Mood: chipper
Of course, writers aren't the only people I love. I'm married to an engineer, and surrounded by many of them, since we live right on the fringe of the Silicon Valley. (Oh, heck, so many of us up here in the Santa Cruz Mountains are connected to that valley, you probably can't even call us a fringe.) I like bicyclists, too, of whom I know a few, since my husband does things like the if-you-ask-me-insane Devil Mountain Double Century ride this Saturday. (Yes, this is the same husband who crashed and smashed his clavicle and a bit of his skull a couple of years ago, but, I'm pretty proud and impressed by the way he got back on that horse, I mean bike!) And I enjoy hanging out with twelve-year-old boys, too, which is lucky, since I have one of those living with me and several others who seem to wander into our house on any given day!
Every now and then, though, it's just so wonderful to surround myself with other word geeks writers, if you know what I mean.
Even if I have to fly to Ohio to do it. :)
I'm out here at the Mad Anthony Writers Conference, in Hamilton, Ohio. My friend and writing partner, Lee Lofland, hooked me up with the conference people, and they invited me to come speak about revision and do some manuscript critiques. The big shindigs haven't started yet, but I went over to the "Extra" today to meet some of the conference organizers. Everybody is so nice and helpful and so happy to see me, like they aren't the ones giving me a great weekend! And I sat in on a mystery-writing workshop by Hallie Ephron that got new ideas churning in my brain, about writing in general and about my own books, too. Lots of note-taking. (For anybody who's working on a mystery, and wasn't lucky enough to be here with me and listen to Hallie, the info is all in her book, Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel: How to Knock 'Em Dead with Style.) Tonight, I'm heading back out for some socializing, then tomorrow it's busy, busy, busy. All day, every hour, with other writers.
You know, there's magic at writers conferences. You ask someone about what they're writing, and you see their face light up. They tell you about a book you hadn't heard of that you know you have to put on your list, immediately. You trade ideas for first chapters, amping up tension at the end, and swimming (or slogging!) your way through the middle. I felt this magic when I started going to conferences, when I first sat in a room filled with other people like me. And now I'm feeling it again, as a speaker and a teacher, but still--foremost--a writer.
Pretty much makes up for any airline stress and aggravation, I'm thinking!
- Mood: happy
So, you might as well do your Poetry Friday post, because it's sure not happening when the REAL Friday starts. :)
I ran out of poems. Out of my own poems, anyway. Luckily, my wonderful, talented son came to my rescue once again and unpassworded his flash drive. I grabbed a few of his poems, because, in the rush of packing, I couldn't decide. This morning, though, one of them hit just the right note to match my mood.
Enjoy. Today's Poetry Round-Up is being hosted at The Miss Rumphius Effect.
If Only I Was an Eagle
If only I was an Eagle
Instead of this lowdown, brown beagle.
I'd fly through the skies,
And spot with my eyes,
A chance to win a race with a seagull.
- Mood:
awake - Music:Hotel Air Conditioner
Okay, I feel like I caught David Lubar's travel germs. I "should" be at the airport right now, waiting for my morning flight. Instead, the phone rang last night to tell me my flight was canceled, but they'd rebooked me. Nice.
Except I get into Cincinnati at 11:30 p.m. And the rental car place closes at 11:00.
No, it's not that bad, really. The OTHER rental car place is open all night, and the new car reservation ended up being cheaper than the old one! Plus, really, it's not midnight, it's only 9:00 out here in California, and on my body clock, right? (Of course, I'm usually heading for bed right about that time!)
So I'm rebooked and re-org'd. The nice lady at the hotel warned me about the mall that sits between them and the freeway, so I won't get super lost out there in the wee hours of the morning, just maybe a little bit lost. Have I mentioned that I am seriously navigationally challenged? The first thing I'm going to find in that rental car is the little button for the interior light, so I can read my directions every three minutes and make sure I'm going where I'm supposed to.
Think of me tonight and send powerful, "Turn Here" thoughts my way. :) Oh, and to make me feel even better, don't forget to enter my BLOG CONTEST, for a signed copy of Terri Thayer's mystery, Wild Goose Chase. :)
- Mood:
confused
Tomorrow morning, I'm out of here early, flying to Hamilton, Ohio, to speak at the Mad Anthony Writers Conference. (Read here about who, exactly, Mad Anthony was.) I'm doing a talk on revision, and I also get to sit on a panel and talk about "What Makes Me Stop Reading." Should be lots of fun!
Don't forget to stop by my first BLOG CONTEST with a comment. The winner gets a free signed copy of Terri Thayer's mystery, Wild Goose Chase.
I had to come back to this post and add one more thing (what a day!), because I got some exciting news. Martha Alderson, of Blockbuster Plots, awarded me the Excellent Blog Award.
May I just say: "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Thank you, Martha!
Martha also got the award for her blog, The Plot Whisperer, so pop over and tell her congrats!
The way this award works, I get to pass it on to ten more blogs. That'll be a fun post for next week. :)
- Mood: busy
For the last many years, I’ve been a member of one of the best critique groups out there. It started as a mystery writing group—with two other wonderful authors: Terri Thayer and Beth Proudfoot. When I decided I was writing a kids’ mystery, nobody kicked me out. Even though I’m now working on a YA historical, too, they’re both being supportive and expanding the definition of the group, once again.
A couple of years ago, Terri wowed us all. She finished her first mystery, got an agent (Jessica Faust of BookEnds, LLC), and ended up signing contracts for not one series, but two. Recently, when I thought about spreading some of my blog luck around, I decided my first contest would be for a free, signed copy of Terri’s first book, Wild Goose Chase. To enter the contest, comment on this post or at Terri’s post on the Killer Hobbies blog, Saturday April 26th. Oh, what the heck, comment at both, and we’ll enter you twice! Enter by Sunday night of the 27th. We'll pull the winner at our next Monday's critique group.
In case you needed further temptation, I interviewed Terri about her writing path, her book, and her life as a PUBLISHED AUTHOR!
INTERVIEW
BL: Just to dive right in, why a quilting mystery?
TT: A quilting mystery combines two of my passions in life. Sewing and reading. More specifically, quilting and reading mystery. The quilting world has grown up in the last twenty years since I started and like all worlds, it has its rules and regulations, its jokers and paupers, pawns and kings. Divas abound. Drama abounds. It is run mostly by women, and so has inherent conflict.
I believe women are dangerously unheard in our noisy male world full of wars, guns, and cars. Quilts are the way we speak to the ones we love. Crafts is more than what we do, it’s who we are. Many of us honor the idea that something we made is more valuable than a store-bought item.
BL: You're also working on a second series, with a rubber-stamping detective. Do you find any similarities between writing about quilts and writing about rubber stamps?
TT: As for the stamping series, it’s more of the same. Becky, you’re the one that told me I was writing women-circle stories, and I think that’s true. I was the kid with four brothers who didn’t like to play with dolls. My mom was a tomboy. I married and had a boy child. Surrounded by men, I thought women were a little crazy. I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t truly understand my girlfriends until I took up quilting. And then I found out what it was like to have a community of women in your corner. Fabulous!
BL: Craft mysteries seem to be getting more and more popular the last few years. And readers buy mysteries about crafts they don’t do, as well as the ones they do. What I mean is, knitters buy quilting mysteries, and quilters buy embroidery mysteries, and so on and so on. What do you think the draw is to these kind of books?
TT: Readers like to read about new worlds. I’m always excited to learn about a new place or time period. The same goes for crafts. Beyond that, the passion is the same whether it be knitting, quilting, or rubber-stamping. The thrill of finding a new yarn, fabric or ink is the same. The hoarding of our resources, the losing yourself for hours at end, the joy of handing over a scarf, a quilt, a card to the recipient is the same.
BL: How did you get started writing mysteries?
TT: Mysteries are what I love to read, so it was a no-brainer that I would write a mystery. Plus, there’s a structure that helps me. I’m not sure now that I could construct a book without a murder in it. Murder makes everything else pale in comparison. The idea that you could make things right in the world is too hard to resist.
BL: What is your favorite part of the writing process? Your least favorite?
TT: My least favorite part is the middle of the first draft. I feel dumb, out of ideas, dragged down by the events that happen around, before and after the murder. I think that’s why Buster was born—to help me wile away the hours before Dewey solves the crime. This is when I run to my critique group, crying about what a bad writer I am. They (you) soothe my ruffled feathers and give me plenty of ideas to steal and call my own.
I'm surprised how much I like revision. Someone famous said: "I don't like writing, I like having written." That's me. I'm always trying to write just so I can rewrite it.
BL: Your first book has been on the shelves for almost four months now. How does it feel to have a real, published copy of your book that you can pick up and hold?
TT: It’s very cool to have a book published. A tangible manifestation of a lifelong ambition is nothing to sneeze at. Sometimes, I admit, in the hubbub of promotion and writing deadlines, I forget to stop and smell the new book scent. Thanks for the reminder.
BL: What’s been the biggest surprise about being published?
TT: The first time I got a book in my hand came as a complete surprise. The publisher had notified me that they were sending me galley copies of WGC. I was expecting bound 8x11 pages. When I opened the box, there were books in there! With my beautiful glossy cover, complete with a bloody rotary cutter with my name on it. That was a thrill.
What’s really great about being published, is having people come up to me and tell me how much they like my characters. Or hate my characters, in the case of Kym. The best thing (so far) happened at a reading in a quilt shop. I finished my reading and a woman said, "That’s the part that made me cry." I made someone cry! That’s an amazing feeling.
BL: You and I have talked about whether your book is "okay" for kids. You’ve got a wonderful love interest, and this isn’t our grandmother’s "cozy," but I think some older teens, especially crafty ones, would enjoy it. What do you think?
TT: I’m hesitant to recommend my book to teens. My scenes are not overly graphic, but they are steamy. I’d rather the parent read the book and decide for their child.
BL: Who are some of your favorite mystery authors?
TT: I enjoy Laura Lippman, SJ Rozan. You turned me onto Dana Stabenow for which I’m eternally grateful. I started reading Sue Grafton at A is for Alibi and have enjoyed her for years.
BL: What are you working on right now, and what other books can your readers look forward to in the coming months?
TT: Right now, I’m working on Ocean Waves, the third in the Quilting Mystery series. It is set at Asilomar, one of my most favorite places in the world, and features a rogue wave, a mountain lion and Buster playing forest ranger. That’s all I can say.
Old Maid’s Puzzle, the second in the Quilting Mystery series, is coming out in September. In this story, we see if Dewey warms up to quilting and whether or not she and Kym can co-exist in a small space.
Stamped Out, which is the first in the Stamping Sisters mystery series, is being released in September as well. This story takes place in a small town in NE Pennsylvania, and involves a group of rubber stampers and a skull that turns up a job site, bringing up old secrets and lies.
You can all see how busy Terri is these days. Luckily for us, it means plenty of books to come!
- Mood:
giddy
olmue! I'd have caught this sooner, but got hit with the flu yesterday. Much better today, but had to spend the day in bed dozing and reading fun MG fantasy books. Life can be so hard.Here's the meme:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to
olmue's blog (your tagees will post to mine, etc.) once you've posted your three sentences. Okay, I JUST opened a box from Amazon with two photo histories of Chicago (have I mentioned that I'm starting to LOVE research?!), but I'm going to skip past those to the novel that was truly just laying on top of the piles on my desk. Mandarin Plaid by S.J. Rozan, one of my favorite mystery writers. I'm going to speak at a conference this week, and I use her book as an example of (brilliant) showing vs telling.
"Mixed up in what?" Andrew's voice was curious.
"I can't tell you. Bad things."
"Worse than stealing her sister's sketches and shooting at you?"
Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. I'm hooked.
I tag: HipWriterMama,
cathyipcizade, jeannineatkins, susanwrites, & maryhershey - Mood:
geeky
August 1979,
The window-framed world is green--
long jade plants drop moisture
onto the feathered ground cover
of peridot ferns.
One ray of the cloud-blocked sun
lands on a patch of clover
and the open book on my bed.
And outside
the rain falls onto me,
drops loosening the warmth of the day.
I stand
head back, arms out, catching
the wetness
on my sticky skin.
And I spin
barefoot across the dampening grass
of a Missouri summer.
- Mood:
sleepy
It seems like I've been read a lot lately about the "oldies," those stories we grew up with and that stay with us, either as actual books in our homes or as happy pieces of our memories. Jen Robinson wrote a sad post about the childhood books that she recently learned were destroyed or lost.
jeannineatkins has been blogging her (and her students') thoughts about various books, from the class on Children's Lit she's teaching, like this post on The Secret Garden.These posts have gotten me thinking about a lot of my favorites, and wondering how/if I'd see them differently, if I set out to read them as a writer. So, using that as an excuse, I got L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables off my shelf and curled up with the inhabitants of Prince Edward Island.
(Tiny interruption: As I explore a book that has been loved by, probably, millions of readers, Debbie Michiko Florence,
d_michiko_f, is talking about books that not enough people have discovered. I love what she's doing--spotlighting these books in a series of reviews, to give these books more of the exposure they deserve. Check out her post—when I finish here, I'm off to find myself a copy of today's book!)Back to Anne. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could read Anne's story critically. Growing up, I was the "emotional" one in my family, the one who sometimes overreacted, the one whose highs and lows were a little disconcerting to be around. In Anne, I found a true "kindred spirit," and I love her as much today as I did when I was young. But I thought I'd give it a try.
Surprise. Not just a surprise that I was able to read about Anne and think about Montgomery's technique, but some BIG surprises about the book itself.
I came at the story thinking about Anne's passion and extremes, the intense focus with which she lives her life, and the persistence with which she sticks to what she sees as right. I wondered how her personality, her love and her anger, directed the plot. I wanted to see how many of Anne's obstacles were created by the force of her own character, how much she herself is responsible for the change she undergoes. In other words, I wanted to see if I could track Anne's Hero's Journey.
Well, whew. Anne doesn't change.
Oh, of course she does. She calms down, internalizes much of her passion, and asks Gilbert Blythe for forgiveness. But most, if not all, of Anne's changes happen in the very last chapters. And the changes aren't all that big--Anne still talks, and she still talks with heat and drama and love. She is still intense and absolutely sure of her intensity; she gives up the college scholarship to stay home at Green Gables with the same solid certainty with which she pursues puffed sleeves. She is still, very much Anne.
Guess who really changes in this book? Avonlea.
At first, when I started seeing what was happening, I thought, no...that can't be. Anne is the hero; on the hero's journey, she's the one who has to change. She's the one with the character arc.
But take a look at this passage, just after Anne falls off the ridge-pole at Diana's house. Marilla sees Diana's father coming to Green Gables, Anne in his arms.
At that moment, Marilla had a revelation. In the sudden stab of fear that pierced to her very heart she realized what Anne had come to mean to her. She would have admitted that she liked Anne--nay, that she was fond of Anne. But now she knew as she hurried wildly down the slope that Anne was dearer to her than anything on earth.
Who changes here? Anne would climb back up on that ridge-pole in a minute, if Josie Pye dared her to do it again. Marilla, though, has found love, something she thought she'd pushed away as nonsense years ago.
So is Marilla the hero? Well, let's keep looking. Because she's not the only one to change. Stubborn Rachel Lynde tells Marilla she was wrong when she called it a mistake to adopt Anne, cranky Josephine Barry invites Anne to stay in her spare room, and Matthew—Matthew—goes shopping to try and buy Anne a dress!
Another passage jumped off the page at me. It's Anne's second spring at Green Gables, one year exactly from the day Matthew brought her there. Montgomery gives us this description of Anne's gable room.
In all essential respects the little gable chamber was unchanged. The walls were as white, the pincushion as hard, the chairs as stiffly and yellowly upright as ever. Yet the whole character of the room was altered. It was full of a new vital, pulsing personality that seemed to pervade it and to be quite independent of schoolgirl books and dresses and ribbons and even of the cracked blue jug full of apple blossoms on the table. It was as if all the dreams, sleeping and waking, of its vivid occupant had taken a visible although immaterial form and had tapestried the bare room with splendid filmy tissues of rainbow and moonshine.
Talk about a microcosm. Or a metaphor. Or something. What Anne has done to this room, she has done to the whole house, the rivers and woods around it, and to Avonlea. She is like a whirlwind of pure energy and love that swirls onto Prince Edward Island, smiling and singing and tossing bright bits of confetti everywhere. A whirlwind that's there to stay.
So, then, is Anne a hero? I think so. Structurally, yes, Anne qualifies as the hero who starts with a flaw, then follows her character arc to her own matured self at the end of the story. I think, though, that she's something else, too. Anne is the hero on the white horse, the super-hero who can fly. Anne's passion is her strength, and she uses it as a true hero should--to rescue an entire town.
It's no wonder Gilbert falls in love with her. It's no wonder we do.
- Mood: surprised
- Music:Marc Broussard--Home
Way back when, Dr. Seuss was given an assignment: Write a book, using only 223 words, that kids will want to read. He set to work, and we got The Cat in the Hat. I'm just flipping through the house copy, and I think the longest word in the whole story is "something." Not super short--nine letters. Not "cat" and not "hat;" not the simple, short-vowel words that many children learn first. But certainly a word that young readers are familiar with, as in, "Mom, I'm bored. I need something to do!"
Dr. Seuss was a genius.
And, yes, he was writing fiction. He wasn't told to write a science book with biology words or a biography with historical vocabulary that isn't used much today. Still, he thought about the children he was writing for, and he gave them (and us) a story that's a gazillion times more fun than anything Dick & Jane ever came up with.
That was his job.
It's ours, too. I've been talking a lot lately about the research for my historical YA. I have to admit, every time I order a book or pick one up from the library, I turn to the first page with nervousness and, yes, a little fear. How hard will this book be to read? How much will it sound like a story, and how much will it read like a legal tome, where the author sets out to prove her theory over and over, using a sledgehammer to pound one point into my brain?
How many big words will each sentence have?
I know. Silly. I'm well-read, I have two degrees in English Lit, and I know how to use a dictionary. How bad can it be?
Bad. When I hit a sentence (often covering three or four lines of text), in which every second or third word is one I have to think about, even for just a second, I hit overload. I have to pause, place the word into it's slot in my brain, then move on to the next word and slot that, too. By the time I'm at the end of the sentence, those first words have dropped out of sight, and I'm forced to put the meaning together like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.
If it's hard for me, let's think about a young reader. They've just learned how to do this. They're excited, proud, and, yes, a little nervous every time they open a new book.
We don't want to turn those feelings into fear.
If they're lucky, they're curled up with Mom or Dad and, when they get stuck, someone gives them a big hug and helps them out. Some kids will happily skip over a word they don't know and just have fun with the ones they do. Too often, though, a child will get frustrated or bored or, the worst--sad.
What can we do? Look at every word we write. Do we need it? Is there a simpler, more clear choice? Is there a better word, one the child can feel great about already knowing? Of course, there's always a place for new vocabulary, and it's good for kids to ask questions and learn things. It's tempting, too, as a writer to play with fun words, to test our own creativity. The balance is tricky, but so, so important. What does an overwhelmed child do with a book? They put it down.
How many kids put down The Cat in the Hat?
For the rest of the Nonfiction Monday Round-up, go over to Anastasia Suen's Picture Book of the Day.
- Mood: determined
Or...
A morning where the house is clean (enough), the boys are playing happily, and your only goal is to assemble a lasagna for the friends who are coming to dinner.
(Can you tell I finally figured out how to put photos in my blog?)
The recipe looks delicious, and it went together well, as not all lasagna recipes do. I decided to leave the peas whole, rather than blending them--so ours won't have that lovely (ick!) green aura to it. For anyone who cares not a whit about their cholesterol, or feels like living dangerously for one meal, here's the link!
- Mood: content
So, last week, I set my goal of posting one of my poems every Friday of this month, since April is poetry month.
Well, last night I dug out my folder, and...every week? Not sure I have that many that even my standards will let me post up here. You may get one of my son's thrown in for good measure!
But today's is mine, written a few years ago when terrorists bombs went off in London. For more poems, check out this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at a wrung sponge.
England, My England?
England,
through the war,
but not my war,
was bombed.
My mother was there,
a little girl on the run
from Germany
on the way here,
to California.
And I went back
living my childhood,
the books and stories she read me,
and I visited
her friends
and my memories.
And I have a child
to whom I read
those books and stories
and others
from the island,
and I have dreamed
of taking him there.
England,
in this month,
was bombed.
My mother was there
again
traveling from here,
from California.
Is this my war?
- Mood: sleepy
Why is that time speeds up in April and May?
- Mood:
stressed - Music:The Bobs--Get Your Monkey off My Dog
I can't take it anymore.
Okay, I could. I mean if I really tried. Anything's possible. We're all capable of more than we think.
Pffffttttt!
It's time for me to start plotting. I'm drifting through the days right now, getting work done on the nearly complete NF book, organizing things for a conference workshop and two panels, contemplating additional revisions on my MG mystery, and reading book after book about the turn of the century. All worthwhile and often interesting pursuits, but...I need something more.
I need the lure of the blank page. Yes, the blank page that can be so intimidating can also be a serious pull. And a motivator. If I don't turn on the computer, open a file, and start putting SOMETHING down in print, this WIP gets to just drift around in my mind like a possibility, a maybe, a sometime-in-the-future dream. That's not what I want for this book.
I know, there's so much more I can do before I plot. So much I probably should. Finish more research. Think more about my MC's character. Get those family members really fleshed out. Figure out who her friends are and why. Come up with some tightly woven connection between her personal life, the suffragette movement, and the settlement houses.
I'm going to do all these things. I promise. And I'm going to do them more "proactively" than I did with the mystery.
But I need to plot. I need to start dropping scene ideas on the page, get Caro out of that ordinary world and onto her hero's path. I need to brainstorm some strong scene goals and throw up a bunch of obstacles in her way. I need to have people come at her and ignore her, and I need her to get through the crowds to the ones she wants to talk to, get her down a dead-end when she tries to avoid someone she SHOULD talk to. I need to start this story.
So I've got that file open, and I'm typing. Yes, I'm throwing in more questions than answers right now, but at least I'm doing something. Writing something.
The itch is getting scratched.
- Mood: determined
- Music:Michelle Shocked--Arkansas Traveler
Kelly Herold's March/April Edge of the Forest is up today. I've got an interview in this issue with Barrie Summy, author of I So Don't Do Mysteries. Barrie's book will be out in early December, and it sounds like a really fun read. Check out the interview, then figure out which kid in your life will need a new mystery for the winter holidays. Or just do like I'm going to--get a copy for yourself!
- Mood: working
- Music:Background Noises from Star Wars 1--It's Spring Break!
I consider myself a pretty lucky person--you know, in terms of life. I am NOT lucky in contests. That would be my mom and my younger sister. Going to the fair? Sis comes home with the stuffed animal. Having a raffle drawing at a fundraiser? Mom gets called twice!
Me? Do you know how many raffle tickets I have bought at the local writing club and writing conferences and never, not once, had my number called? Too many to count.
Lottery-ticket wins? Zero.
I did once win a radio contest to go to a Roy Rogers (the Blues singer, not the other one!) and Norton Buffalo concert. It was awesome. I figured I'd used up my contest luck for life on that one.
And then came blogs. Obviously, I've been putting my energy into the wrong places. If I'd thought for a second, I could have figured it out. I mean, what am I about? Books.
A couple of months ago, I won a contest on Barrie Summy's blog, for a free copy of Eileen Cook's book, Unpredictable.
We now interrupt this post for a brief mini-review: What a fun book. Sophie Kintock has spent the last few years sure that she's found Mr. Right. I mean, other than that old marriage-phobia thing, Doug is perfect. Really. So when he leaves her, she does what any determined, right-thinking woman would do. She pretends to be psychic and tracks down Doug's new girlfriend. She gives Melanie a reading, one that will make her drive Doug crazy and send him running back to Sophie. A Happy Ending. Except, the psychic thing spins out of control and so does Sophie's life. Is this the happy ending she still wants? Pick up a copy of the book and find out!
We now return to our usual posting.
Today, I clicked on my Friend's page to see what was up, and there I was! Another contest. In March, Mary Hershey offered her blog readers the chance to win their pick: a book donated to a library of their choice, or...cookies. And guess who won? Okay, you guessed. Me! I've asked Mary to send a copy of her book The One Where the Kid Nearly Jumps to His Death and Lands in California to my son's middle-school library. How cool is that.
So, I'm thinking it's time to pay it forward. I'm working out the details of my first contest, and there WILL be a book in it for a lucky somebody. I promise not to enter myself, because, obviously, the power of my blog-contest luck would blow everybody else out of the running. :)
Keep watching! And, meanwhile, may you all be lucky in the way you need most!
- Mood: surprised
- Music:Los Lobos--The Ride
I do not consider myself a poet. At all. I've probably written a dozen poems in my life, and at least half of those were for the poetry writing class I took in college. When you count the poetic words I've ever put on paper and compare those to the novel words I've done the same with, well...the poetry side of the scale doesn't even dip. It's a tiny drop in a huge ocean of writing.
Actually, that's when I write a poem. When an event hits me so hard that the emotion of it is so intense, so much, that I can only express it in a single drop. It's kind of like everything else in my head goes away, and my brain constricts down to that one, tight, intense feeling.
Then I try and put it on paper. The poem becomes a kind of release.
I don't show these to people.
Except, what the heck. It's Poetry Month. I have a blog. It's not like I'm going to post this stuff, and some agent is going to write me a polite rejection letter in my comments. (Please.)
So I'm walking out to the edge of the diving board, and I'm gonna jump!
Katie Davis, at Brain Burps, is being what I consider incredibly brave (not to mention productive) and writing a poem a day for Poetry Month. No, I'm not joining her in this endeavor. What I've decided to do is try and post one of my poems every Poetry Friday of this month. Most of them will be poems I've already written, and I may not make it the whole month, because I'll be traveling near the end.
But, you know...the thought is here. :)
So today, for a start, is the one new poem you might actually see on this blog. I wrote it earlier this week, and it was the impetus for my decision to join in with the month's festivities!
Enjoy. And check out the rest of this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at Becky's Book Reviews.
Still Here
I dreamt you, Grandpa,
standing at the window
watching us come.
Then, inside,
you were two-feet tall,
with jeans that hung baggy
and long
like you were a toy.
You saw me and smiled,
and light
came into the room
and into me.
Your words,
just like at the end,
broke through the strokes
in stuttering pieces.
Is that...Re-b-eccaaa?
You...are...beautiful.
In my dream,
just like when you were still here,
I was sad to come.
You were no longer solid and strong
or taller than me,
but curled
into the wheelchair,
or standing small in your toy jeans.
Until you smiled
and held out your arms.
I ran to your hug,
tight,
and smelled your smell.
This morning,
with gray fog in the sky
and stiff joints,
I am beautiful.
And I walk on water again.
- Mood:
nervous - Music:Los Lobos--The Ride