Yes, it's fluffy.
No, it's not my usual read, and just FYI - it's not YA. But many YA girls will find Shannon Hale's innocently fluffy Austenland completely appealing.
Thirtysomething Jane Hayes is single and kind of sick of it -- mainly because she sabotages her relationships herself, by assigning too much meaning to the slightest things, so desperate is she to find meaning and connection. That's typical enough in the Chick-Lit realm, but Jane Hayes has another thing that's a golden plot ticket in Chick Lit -- a benefactor. In this case, a benefactress, her Great-Aunt Carolyn, who dies and leaves her the chance to go to Austenland -- and to get the regrettably fictional Fitzwilliam Darcy out of her system once and for all.
Austenland is an English resort set up in the Regency style, which includes the requisite snobbery about class and manners. The proprietress knows that Jane has inherited her vacation, and looks down on her for it. Jane is kitted out in ridiculous Regency attire, amused and chagrined, and having a hard time taking it all seriously... until she does.
I won't give you any spoilers -- this is Chick Lit after all, and the Happily Ever After is quite built in. But there are a few twists and things to make you smile. Shannon Hale is a good writer, and I certainly prefer her YA lit, but with the plethora of Jane-books coming out this summer, was is a worthy enough candidate for an afternoon at the beach, or to read on the bus.
August 14, 2007
Sarah Godfrey: Ugly Duckling
Sarah Godfrey is fourteen, and loves her dog Boysie, and her brother, Charlie. She is stuck with most everything else.
Mainly, she's stuck with her Dad. He treats her like she's invisible, and he's always gone. She's also stuck with her Aunt Willie, who's raising her instead of her mother, who has died, and she's stuck with her older sister, Wanda, who is turning into a glamor girl and looks to be heading for a place Sarah will never go. Sarah's stuck with orange tennis shoes as well -- she used to like them, but now she doesn't, and Aunt Willie says they can't afford new ones. Sarah's also stuck with her huge feet, and having the worst summer of her life.
Put upon, resentful at having to watch after Charlie, who has Down's Syndrome, Sarah's summer changes for the better when she and Charlie discover swans at a neighborhood lake. Suddenly Sarah's restless flutterings are a little more calm, and Charlie -- Charlie is entranced, believing that the swans have come especially for him. For both Sarah and Charlie, The Summer of the Swans changes everything.
This novel was my very favorite and very first YA novel, and tells about growing up in a way that is relevant to now. Though firmly set in the 1970's - references to Laugh-In, Jackie Onassis Kennedy and the like make that clear - the story of growing up stays the same.
Mainly, she's stuck with her Dad. He treats her like she's invisible, and he's always gone. She's also stuck with her Aunt Willie, who's raising her instead of her mother, who has died, and she's stuck with her older sister, Wanda, who is turning into a glamor girl and looks to be heading for a place Sarah will never go. Sarah's stuck with orange tennis shoes as well -- she used to like them, but now she doesn't, and Aunt Willie says they can't afford new ones. Sarah's also stuck with her huge feet, and having the worst summer of her life.
Put upon, resentful at having to watch after Charlie, who has Down's Syndrome, Sarah's summer changes for the better when she and Charlie discover swans at a neighborhood lake. Suddenly Sarah's restless flutterings are a little more calm, and Charlie -- Charlie is entranced, believing that the swans have come especially for him. For both Sarah and Charlie, The Summer of the Swans changes everything.
This novel was my very favorite and very first YA novel, and tells about growing up in a way that is relevant to now. Though firmly set in the 1970's - references to Laugh-In, Jackie Onassis Kennedy and the like make that clear - the story of growing up stays the same.
Breathing Underwater, Part II
Fey, wild, full of half-fearful fancies (she doesn't trust Tuesdays) and wearing one blue and one slightly off-colored blue sock, Undine is the last girl in Hobart you might expect to be ...magical. Exasperating Lou, her mother, worrying her best friend, Trout's mother with her endless bursting into his boy-next-door bedroom, Undine is erratic and attractive but -- typical.
Until the Tuesday she begins hearing voices.
Though Undine is deeply worried that she's more than a little atypical, the worst worry is that she's ...crazy. A bit dangerous, even. Her reliable friendship with Trout, the safe haven of her mother and baby brother, and even her anonymity from the boys at school suddenly all changes in one fell swoop -- too fast. Like an onrushing tide, Undine finds that she has a father, a power, and -- what? What's it all for? What's it all about?
This first book of the Undine trilogy is balances suspense and a distorted, shifting world with an ordinary girl and a life stuffed full of the normal stuff - arguments with her mother, the death of a stepdad, an annoying but cute little brother, and a best friend battling a huge crush. The dialogue moves the plot along at a reasonable pace, and though the conclusion is a bit of a happily-ever-after wrap up, the idea of a sequel means that readers know that Undine's finding the perfect balance of life and magic can't possibly be the very end. What about Max, the anonymous online person Trout told about Undine's secret? What about her father, Prospero? And truly, what about Undine's power?
I'd love to say that "all will be revealed" in the sequel, but that's not exactly true. Both more and less is revealed, and now that the third in the trilogy has been published, I am waiting for its US debut. Undine, and its sequel, Breathe, are stories dealing with relationships and power, its agency to corrupt or change us, and its uses. This has been a multilayered and interesting trilogy, and I'll be interested to see its conclusion.
Until the Tuesday she begins hearing voices.
Though Undine is deeply worried that she's more than a little atypical, the worst worry is that she's ...crazy. A bit dangerous, even. Her reliable friendship with Trout, the safe haven of her mother and baby brother, and even her anonymity from the boys at school suddenly all changes in one fell swoop -- too fast. Like an onrushing tide, Undine finds that she has a father, a power, and -- what? What's it all for? What's it all about?
This first book of the Undine trilogy is balances suspense and a distorted, shifting world with an ordinary girl and a life stuffed full of the normal stuff - arguments with her mother, the death of a stepdad, an annoying but cute little brother, and a best friend battling a huge crush. The dialogue moves the plot along at a reasonable pace, and though the conclusion is a bit of a happily-ever-after wrap up, the idea of a sequel means that readers know that Undine's finding the perfect balance of life and magic can't possibly be the very end. What about Max, the anonymous online person Trout told about Undine's secret? What about her father, Prospero? And truly, what about Undine's power?
I'd love to say that "all will be revealed" in the sequel, but that's not exactly true. Both more and less is revealed, and now that the third in the trilogy has been published, I am waiting for its US debut. Undine, and its sequel, Breathe, are stories dealing with relationships and power, its agency to corrupt or change us, and its uses. This has been a multilayered and interesting trilogy, and I'll be interested to see its conclusion.
August 13, 2007
Top Five Reasons for Vegemite
There are plenty of good reasons for Vegemite. I mean, other than the fact that it's a fine example of nutritive recycling -- Vegemite is made out of leftover brewer's yeast, which is a by-product of brewing beer -- it's also über vitamin-healthy, and if you don't count the sodium (or use scant amounts), it's über-healthy all 'round. It inspires 'roses in every cheek' I am told (though the child looks a bit feverish to me), and is an all around favorite Australian snack.
We here at Finding Wonderland salute the wonder that is Vegemite, and offer you just a few more reasons why it is so, so awesome and so book-friendly:
5.) It's not jam.
Jam sandwiches, which seem to work so well for British characters, tend to leak. Librarians? They no like the sticky books. Jam: book unfriendly. Vegemite: somewhat book friendlier (though unidentified brown smudges in books make librarians also quite uneasy. Just... be neat, okay?).
4.) It's not as attractive to ants.
Okay, Australia is often called Oz, for its completely otherworldly weirdness factor, which is quite high. For instance: have you seen the ants in Oz?! Do you want to see the ants in Oz? Wouldn't you just hate to be carried off by huge, six-legged, venomous, jam-sucking insects whilst you were innocently reading? Sure, some ants will eat Vegemite. But some ants... will eat anything. 'Nough said.
3.) It's a spread made for sharing.
Vegemite anagrams to 'meet give.' Meet. Give. It's the international symbol of friendship!
2.) Dude, can you PAINT with jam?
Okay, yes. Technically. But is it as cool? 'Course not.
1.) And the number one reason why Vegemite is so awesome is that it's the rich goo that will glue together authors as diverse as Barry Jonsberg, the nuanced Margo Lanagan, Alyssa Brugman, Tasmanian resident Penni Russon and newcomer Randa Abdel-Fattah. It's part of the Australian history and culture which we'll celebrate kidlitosphere-style this week.
Best Read With Vegemite! Coming Wednesday to a blog near you.
We here at Finding Wonderland salute the wonder that is Vegemite, and offer you just a few more reasons why it is so, so awesome and so book-friendly:5.) It's not jam.
Jam sandwiches, which seem to work so well for British characters, tend to leak. Librarians? They no like the sticky books. Jam: book unfriendly. Vegemite: somewhat book friendlier (though unidentified brown smudges in books make librarians also quite uneasy. Just... be neat, okay?).
4.) It's not as attractive to ants.
Okay, Australia is often called Oz, for its completely otherworldly weirdness factor, which is quite high. For instance: have you seen the ants in Oz?! Do you want to see the ants in Oz? Wouldn't you just hate to be carried off by huge, six-legged, venomous, jam-sucking insects whilst you were innocently reading? Sure, some ants will eat Vegemite. But some ants... will eat anything. 'Nough said.
3.) It's a spread made for sharing.
Vegemite anagrams to 'meet give.' Meet. Give. It's the international symbol of friendship!
2.) Dude, can you PAINT with jam?
Okay, yes. Technically. But is it as cool? 'Course not.
1.) And the number one reason why Vegemite is so awesome is that it's the rich goo that will glue together authors as diverse as Barry Jonsberg, the nuanced Margo Lanagan, Alyssa Brugman, Tasmanian resident Penni Russon and newcomer Randa Abdel-Fattah. It's part of the Australian history and culture which we'll celebrate kidlitosphere-style this week.
Best Read With Vegemite! Coming Wednesday to a blog near you.
Blowin' in the Wind
Ahh, what's that bracing citrus scent, astringent, acidic and clean? Why, it's the smell of a rant. Yes, folks, MotherReader has finally gone all-out, creating a bumper sticker and a fabulous logo for BACA - Bloggers Against Celebrity Authors.
Some may feel uneasy with the level of vitriol this subject can elicit, but here's the thing: Can celebrities bank on their celebrity to get into Serious Lit'triture? No. You can have a "my life on the backlot" tell-all book or a celebrity+'pimping for serious topic' book like Katie Couric's about her husband's cancer, but those are a dime a dozen, and are generally stripped, pulped and recycled within a month unless they're just awesome. (This from people in the know at B&N.) Could, say,
It's as if publishing is a marble-walled edifice, gates kept by stern agents and editorial assistants in ocher and bronze livery, and children's publishing is a back door flapping open in the wind with no gate, and no guards, through which any fool off the street can wander.
...unless they're an actual person, and not a Name, and then, miraculously, the gates and guards are back, with an extra layer of frowning critics who expect that kidlit writers are people with too many cats and a Garanimals-for-Grownups wardrobe, in some kind of extended adolescence and not in possession of a real job writing for 'real' people.
What is UP WITH THAT!?
Today's other rant is about my current Work In Progress. Via GalleyCat, I hear that not only in the U.S. is there a wave of WWII novels in the making, it's happening in the UK as well. I am obscurely annoyed by this, as my current WIP, going to the editor this week? Is set during... the Second World War.
Am I merely a follower, here, banking on the Ultimate Good v. Evil story, where the Good Guys Won? Good grief, I hope not... I think what I have is an unique angle, but is there really anything new in plots these days, especially plots with a foregone conclusion? Not... really. I guess it's because current situations aren't as clean-cut that people want to return to old victories... which is another rant in itself, I'm sure.
What's that? A breath of fresh air? Why, yes, it's A.F.'s interview with the 7-Imps! Don't miss it!
August 12, 2007
Get Your Vegemite Sandwiches Ready....
...The very first One Shot World Tour will be hitting Australia on Wednesday, August 15th--or, more accurately, Australia will be hitting the blog world! Here's the full lineup (see the fabulous Chasing Ray for more information):Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast interviews Margo Lanagan
Kelly Fineman is all about Melina Marchetta
Big A, little A writes about Anna Feinberg and her "Tashi" series
Jenn at Not Your Mother's Bookclub interviews Simmone Howell
Chicken Spaghetti reviews Kathy Hoopmann's award winning All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome
Gwenda at Shaken and Stirred is all about How Sassy Changed My Life, The Red Shoes by Ursula Dubosarsky and a wee bit more with Margo Lanagan
Jen Robinson discusses John Marsden's "Tomorrow" series
Little Willow discusses Finding Grace by Alyssa Brugman
At A Chair, a Fireplace & a Tea Cozy it is all about Catherine Jinks and her four "Pagan" books
Jackie at Interactive Reader posts about Randa Abdel-Fattah's Does My Head Look Big in This? and John Flanagan's The Icebound Land
Trisha at The Ya Ya Yas interviews Queenie Chan
Fuse Number 8 talks more about John Marsden and also highlights a new Hot Man of Literature: Andy Griffiths
Colleen writes about Nick Earls at Chasing Ray
A guest appearance from Jenny Davidson who has interviewed mystery author Peter Temple
And, of course, here at FW we take a look at Undine by Penni Russon and a look at some of Jaclyn Moriarty's titles. Tune in Wednesday!
Here's an unrelated little afterthought of a question that's been nagging at me for a little while: I'm wondering whether y'all can help me compile a list of titles that might qualify as cyberpunk fiction for YAs. Arguably, William Gibson can be considered a crossover author (I know I read a little of his stuff when I was in high school), but I'm also wondering about books written FOR young adults. One title I enjoyed (and still love) is Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson; and Tad Williams' Otherland is a great trilogy along those lines as well; and perhaps M.T. Anderson's Feed fits in this category. Any other ideas? If I get a decent list I'll probably do a post about it at some point.
August 10, 2007
Poetry Friday: The Forest for the Trees
LOST
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
“Lost,” by by David Wagoner, from Collected Poems 1956-1976 (Indiana University Press)
Poetry Friday is a means of finding oneself. Take a look at where else you might end up at the Poetry Friday round-up, hosted by Big A, little a.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
“Lost,” by by David Wagoner, from Collected Poems 1956-1976 (Indiana University Press)
Poetry Friday is a means of finding oneself. Take a look at where else you might end up at the Poetry Friday round-up, hosted by Big A, little a.
August 09, 2007
Toon Thursday: We're Back, We're Bad.
Finally, after a long hiatus, Toon Thursday is back. Hope you enjoy. Click the cartoon to view it larger.
BACA: Because you wanted to know this!
You know what?
I am not going to say one snarky thing that I read on Big A, little a today. Nope. Not gonna even pull out basins and make convincing faces that look like impending barfdom. Nope. Not gonna do it.
I am not going to say one snarky thing that I read on Big A, little a today. Nope. Not gonna even pull out basins and make convincing faces that look like impending barfdom. Nope. Not gonna do it.
"He peered coyly through the extraordinarily long lashes which complimented his caramel skin..."
Via de Bond grrrl, I came across this random list of YA banalities at Joëlle Anthony's site.
Example: from being part of the 'red-headed stepchild' class, red hair has risen through the ranks until apparently we all lust for it. However, it's just not that common, except by introduction of henna or Clairol or somesuch. Yet my YA peeps? Seem to have found an endless store of flame-haired sidekicks in a back closet somewhere. Writers: Just say no.
And the über long man-lashes -- hilarious, since my S.O. really DOES have inch-long lashes that might make fake lashes look tame by comparison -- but yes, it's no longer a big deal. Lads: Better lashes at times than the lasses. Usually without Max Factor. Let's draw a veil and move on to YA quirks such as raising the eyebrow (usually the right eyebrow, since that's the only one I can consistently raise), replacing the usage of 'Mom and Dad' with 'Laura and Luke,' and nail/lip/thumb/something biting 'til blood flows. And I'm sure you could list your own idiosyncratic YA traits from your own reading.
There are umpty million clichés in the windy city (or wherever you are - it's pretty breezy over here today), but the one that bugged me just a bit... and then a bit more... was #14 -- the 'cafe au lait' skin tone. The 'coffee and cream' complexion. The African-American-as-caffeinated-beverage cliché. Actually, it's not even limited to African Americans - let's say the half or whole - Pakistani- Bangladeshi- First- Nations- Hispanic- Generic- Brown- Person as caffeinated beverage.
(Note that nobody is ever listed as, say, the color of Coke? Although I have seen root beer colored eyes. Which is to say: um, brown.)
As a person of color, blogging with another person of color... writing novels wherein persons of color live and move and have their being... have I ever committed the faux pas of describing shades of skin tone as a drink? Oh, probably yes. I freely admit to having been a lazy writer in some past life. Is any of the writing where I described persons-as-drinks going to be published? Good grief, I hope not. Not because it isn't an apt enough description -- (although, if I ever see someone with skin the color of a latte, I will, in fact, call for medical assistance -- a latte lacks color depth and looks rather chalky; if I see a person that shade, I'll assume they're about to pass out) -- but because it is ultimately a lazy way of thinking, a lazy way of writing/speaking, and millimeters away from relying on racial tropes, clichés and stereotypes that reflect an unexamined inner life. As Joëlle mentioned,
I always love Stephen Colbert's assertion that he doesn't see color (it's just alarming when other people use this statement seriously, isn't it? Do they not realize he speaks in shades of IRONY?), but the truth is that there is a school of thought which seems to require writers to embrace such a depth of PC that they can't even use words anymore. (Not to mention the school of thought that is against actual scientific terms [Ah, scrotum], or the group that objects to sort of made-up descriptors [Happy to be Nappy? - yes, it's a word. Yes, it has a meaning only understood by some. No, it does not threaten you or your child. Moving on.]) It's true that we all want to be sensitive to offending people, but honestly -- Susan Patron didn't wake up one morning in the mood to offend. I doubt Holly Black or e. lockhart, or Maureen Johnson or even The Great JK just said one day, "Hey! Let's offend the East Texas PTA this week!"
So, in a way? I feel like there's no remedy from being offensive. And maybe we should stop trying so hard not to offend...
Others have discussed this before, referencing biracial characters, etc., and have wondered how to delicately set their feet. So, maybe let's all agree to state that there is no need to be delicate, there is only a need for common sense and open-heartedness and a conscious willingness to "do unto others/speak about others." We can't avoid race. We can't pretend that since it's not directly affecting us that we've somehow transcended it, to arrive on a rarefied, colorless plain. That just doesn't happen. So. We've now got to actually engage our brains and think about how we want to express that which we see (or that which we are), and ways to do it that celebrate it, embrace it, or at least don't trivialize it and make it a lazy cliché.
Tall order.
Thanks, Joëlle, for starting the conversation.
Thoughts from anyone else?
Example: from being part of the 'red-headed stepchild' class, red hair has risen through the ranks until apparently we all lust for it. However, it's just not that common, except by introduction of henna or Clairol or somesuch. Yet my YA peeps? Seem to have found an endless store of flame-haired sidekicks in a back closet somewhere. Writers: Just say no.
And the über long man-lashes -- hilarious, since my S.O. really DOES have inch-long lashes that might make fake lashes look tame by comparison -- but yes, it's no longer a big deal. Lads: Better lashes at times than the lasses. Usually without Max Factor. Let's draw a veil and move on to YA quirks such as raising the eyebrow (usually the right eyebrow, since that's the only one I can consistently raise), replacing the usage of 'Mom and Dad' with 'Laura and Luke,' and nail/lip/thumb/something biting 'til blood flows. And I'm sure you could list your own idiosyncratic YA traits from your own reading.
There are umpty million clichés in the windy city (or wherever you are - it's pretty breezy over here today), but the one that bugged me just a bit... and then a bit more... was #14 -- the 'cafe au lait' skin tone. The 'coffee and cream' complexion. The African-American-as-caffeinated-beverage cliché. Actually, it's not even limited to African Americans - let's say the half or whole - Pakistani- Bangladeshi- First- Nations- Hispanic- Generic- Brown- Person as caffeinated beverage.
(Note that nobody is ever listed as, say, the color of Coke? Although I have seen root beer colored eyes. Which is to say: um, brown.)
As a person of color, blogging with another person of color... writing novels wherein persons of color live and move and have their being... have I ever committed the faux pas of describing shades of skin tone as a drink? Oh, probably yes. I freely admit to having been a lazy writer in some past life. Is any of the writing where I described persons-as-drinks going to be published? Good grief, I hope not. Not because it isn't an apt enough description -- (although, if I ever see someone with skin the color of a latte, I will, in fact, call for medical assistance -- a latte lacks color depth and looks rather chalky; if I see a person that shade, I'll assume they're about to pass out) -- but because it is ultimately a lazy way of thinking, a lazy way of writing/speaking, and millimeters away from relying on racial tropes, clichés and stereotypes that reflect an unexamined inner life. As Joëlle mentioned,
"...it seems to be a way white authors have of treading lightly around skin color.Yes - the statement makes sense, no, it doesn't make sense to avoid... race.
I haven't noticed this in any books by black authors or about black people.
I notice it in books where all the characters are white and they have one latte colored friend. It's almost like white people are afraid to call someone black. Does that make sense?"
I always love Stephen Colbert's assertion that he doesn't see color (it's just alarming when other people use this statement seriously, isn't it? Do they not realize he speaks in shades of IRONY?), but the truth is that there is a school of thought which seems to require writers to embrace such a depth of PC that they can't even use words anymore. (Not to mention the school of thought that is against actual scientific terms [Ah, scrotum], or the group that objects to sort of made-up descriptors [Happy to be Nappy? - yes, it's a word. Yes, it has a meaning only understood by some. No, it does not threaten you or your child. Moving on.]) It's true that we all want to be sensitive to offending people, but honestly -- Susan Patron didn't wake up one morning in the mood to offend. I doubt Holly Black or e. lockhart, or Maureen Johnson or even The Great JK just said one day, "Hey! Let's offend the East Texas PTA this week!"
So, in a way? I feel like there's no remedy from being offensive. And maybe we should stop trying so hard not to offend...
Others have discussed this before, referencing biracial characters, etc., and have wondered how to delicately set their feet. So, maybe let's all agree to state that there is no need to be delicate, there is only a need for common sense and open-heartedness and a conscious willingness to "do unto others/speak about others." We can't avoid race. We can't pretend that since it's not directly affecting us that we've somehow transcended it, to arrive on a rarefied, colorless plain. That just doesn't happen. So. We've now got to actually engage our brains and think about how we want to express that which we see (or that which we are), and ways to do it that celebrate it, embrace it, or at least don't trivialize it and make it a lazy cliché.
Tall order.
Thanks, Joëlle, for starting the conversation.
Thoughts from anyone else?
What We Did (and Who We Saw), Part II
The following day, we enjoyed hearing Walter Dean Myers, Tamora Pierce, Hot Man of Kidslit Kadir Nelson, and Ellen Wittlinger, and I decided to attend one of the illustrators' workshops, which I've been curious about since I first attended the LA conference two years ago. Now, I primarily do fine art and random design projects—very rarely do I do anything connected with illustration—but I'm naturally curious about the illustration part of the business. I did spend several years, when I was a teenager, wanting to be an illustrator, before I got sucked into the art-for-art's-sake side of things.
Anyway, "Fresh Eyes: A Zen Drawing Workshop" with Anna Grossnickle Hines (a lucky duck who lives in one of the most beautiful spots in California) was a nice change of pace, as was the small-but-lively kidlit blogger lunch attended by Kelly F., Kelly H., Deborah Davis, Carrie Jones, Tracey from Jacketflap (who gave us all cool hats), and a couple of others. So I was relatively refreshed (though still in sleep deficit) by the time of the poolside gala, By the Light of the Silvery Moon. Thanks to Jay Asher, I was sporting a little bling in the form of a disco ball necklace, which was my only real silvery item besides my metallic nail polish and a few sparklies on my dress—I was no competition for some of the excellent costumes, including the Disco Mermaids and a truly terrific and somewhat terrifying Marie Antoinette (click for pictures).
Though I spent the first hour or two of the gala primarily in wandering aimlessly, eating free food, and trying to make a dent in my ample supply of drink tickets (a faculty perk), eventually I did manage to locate a few people—Kelly F., Jay Asher, and all three Gregs (but not all at the same time)—and, by the end of the night, actually found myself in conversation (albeit brief and peripheral) with John Green and his editor Julia Strauss-Gabel. This latter conversation was mainly thanks to Kelly F., who is a formidable and fearless woman. If it were left up to me, I would have probably just stood around shyly, people-watching, feeling obliged to utilize my drink tickets, until I had enough and went home. I'm still afraid that I may have said something weird to John Green, though I'm sure it was a fairly unmemorable exchange…one hopes.
Speaking of John Green, it was fascinating to see him speak on Sunday and Monday. Sunday's highlights also included fellow blogger Lisa Yee and more Tamora Pierce, and Monday's keynote by Kirby Larson was funny and fabulous—it included a short film which she created because, as she said, if celebrities can write picture books, then writers should be able to make movies. (Memorable quote from her speech: "Sometimes when life gives you lemons, it shops at Costco.") John Green's take on contemporary YA novels was quirky and interesting, but even more interesting to me was the array of fellow authors who turned out to see him: Susan Patron, Lisa Yee, Kirby Larson, Carrie Jones, Ellen Wittlinger, and Sara Lewis Holmes, among others.
One overwhelming message that came to me out of all the speakers I saw was that we as writers have a responsibility to our readers, to children and teenagers, to be authentic, to speak the truth, to care and love and teach without being didactic or smothering. This message really resonates and applies equally well to bloggers—our responsibility is NOT to appease our critics or to promote ourselves, but to contribute something unique to a community that is itself unique; to promote a love of reading and writing, and an awareness of quality literature; and to be just as authentic and caring about our readers and fellow bloggers as writers are about their young audiences. My thanks and admiration go out to all my blogging homies. You do this with every post and interview, every link and booklist.
And one more thing, this time totally unrelated to SCBWI - Neil Gaiman on yesterday's Talk of the Nation!
Anyway, "Fresh Eyes: A Zen Drawing Workshop" with Anna Grossnickle Hines (a lucky duck who lives in one of the most beautiful spots in California) was a nice change of pace, as was the small-but-lively kidlit blogger lunch attended by Kelly F., Kelly H., Deborah Davis, Carrie Jones, Tracey from Jacketflap (who gave us all cool hats), and a couple of others. So I was relatively refreshed (though still in sleep deficit) by the time of the poolside gala, By the Light of the Silvery Moon. Thanks to Jay Asher, I was sporting a little bling in the form of a disco ball necklace, which was my only real silvery item besides my metallic nail polish and a few sparklies on my dress—I was no competition for some of the excellent costumes, including the Disco Mermaids and a truly terrific and somewhat terrifying Marie Antoinette (click for pictures).
Though I spent the first hour or two of the gala primarily in wandering aimlessly, eating free food, and trying to make a dent in my ample supply of drink tickets (a faculty perk), eventually I did manage to locate a few people—Kelly F., Jay Asher, and all three Gregs (but not all at the same time)—and, by the end of the night, actually found myself in conversation (albeit brief and peripheral) with John Green and his editor Julia Strauss-Gabel. This latter conversation was mainly thanks to Kelly F., who is a formidable and fearless woman. If it were left up to me, I would have probably just stood around shyly, people-watching, feeling obliged to utilize my drink tickets, until I had enough and went home. I'm still afraid that I may have said something weird to John Green, though I'm sure it was a fairly unmemorable exchange…one hopes.
Speaking of John Green, it was fascinating to see him speak on Sunday and Monday. Sunday's highlights also included fellow blogger Lisa Yee and more Tamora Pierce, and Monday's keynote by Kirby Larson was funny and fabulous—it included a short film which she created because, as she said, if celebrities can write picture books, then writers should be able to make movies. (Memorable quote from her speech: "Sometimes when life gives you lemons, it shops at Costco.") John Green's take on contemporary YA novels was quirky and interesting, but even more interesting to me was the array of fellow authors who turned out to see him: Susan Patron, Lisa Yee, Kirby Larson, Carrie Jones, Ellen Wittlinger, and Sara Lewis Holmes, among others.
One overwhelming message that came to me out of all the speakers I saw was that we as writers have a responsibility to our readers, to children and teenagers, to be authentic, to speak the truth, to care and love and teach without being didactic or smothering. This message really resonates and applies equally well to bloggers—our responsibility is NOT to appease our critics or to promote ourselves, but to contribute something unique to a community that is itself unique; to promote a love of reading and writing, and an awareness of quality literature; and to be just as authentic and caring about our readers and fellow bloggers as writers are about their young audiences. My thanks and admiration go out to all my blogging homies. You do this with every post and interview, every link and booklist.
And one more thing, this time totally unrelated to SCBWI - Neil Gaiman on yesterday's Talk of the Nation!
August 08, 2007
Most Egregious Misuse and More
Hwy 505, just outside of Vacaville: Local Grown Peaches.
Apparently it would have killed them to add the -ly.
Oh! But there's awesome usage news -- via Bookshelves of Doom, I a.) found out about a new grammar site -- and b.) discovered that they have endoresed Junie B. Jones. So huzzah - let all children rejoice - and eventually learn better grammar.
Good reporting from A.F, the social half of the group. I'm still sort of shocked that the Mirrored Disco trio didn't win the silvery award with their blinding getup. Seriously. Did someone go Goldfinger and paint themselves?!
Via Book Moot, we may now be seeing the last Artemis Fowl. What IS it with fun series ending this year!? Why can't they, as Hank Green sang, "last forever?"
Ooh - more books! Check out the Pay It Forward Book Exchange. Fun!
Apparently it would have killed them to add the -ly.
Oh! But there's awesome usage news -- via Bookshelves of Doom, I a.) found out about a new grammar site -- and b.) discovered that they have endoresed Junie B. Jones. So huzzah - let all children rejoice - and eventually learn better grammar.
Good reporting from A.F, the social half of the group. I'm still sort of shocked that the Mirrored Disco trio didn't win the silvery award with their blinding getup. Seriously. Did someone go Goldfinger and paint themselves?!
Via Book Moot, we may now be seeing the last Artemis Fowl. What IS it with fun series ending this year!? Why can't they, as Hank Green sang, "last forever?"
Ooh - more books! Check out the Pay It Forward Book Exchange. Fun!
What We Did (and Who We Saw), Part I
As a follow-up to TadMack's excellent post about What We Said at the SCBWI conference, I also wanted to add a few notes on our other activities besides the panel—including attending a bloggers' get-together and a silvery Saturday-night spectacle.
Thursday evening I ended up being our panel's unofficial representative at the faculty kick-off dinner, which was an interesting experience—as probably the only person present who was not either a published author or illustrator, an about-to-be-published author or illustrator (unless you count that still-forthcoming, date TBA short story), or someone in the publishing industry, I felt a bit out of place, but excited to be part of things.
I was assigned to the same dinner table as non-fiction author Carla McClafferty, Smartwriters.com's Roxyanne Young, graphic novel expert Mac McCool (not his real name), art director (for Henry Holt) Laurent Linn, and Cecil Castellucci, plus a handful of others whose names I didn't quite catch (and if you're reading this, sorry! I'm horrible with names!!). And before the actual dinner, I got to meet four representatives of the Class of 2k7—Disco Mermaid Jay Asher, sweet and funny Carrie Jones, and two Gregs (Neri and Fishbone). I especially owe Carrie, Greg, and Greg for making me feel a whole lot less nervous—and less alone in my remaining nervousness. Other than my having to scuttle, embarrassed, to the bathroom in the middle of Lin Oliver's announcements to the group, it was a fitting start to the weekend.
Much better than the following morning, for which I showed up tardy after being caught in traffic…but then I found myself running late into the building with Cecil Castellucci, who'd also been delayed, so that was an interesting start to the day. Though, as TadMack and Little Willow noted, we had to forgo the first couple of keynote speeches on Friday in favor of…erm…preparing our presentation, we were able to see an excellent breakout session from the inimitable Tamora Pierce, as well as some interesting comments about professional criticism from an array of editors. As it turns out, Arthur Levine (he of the eponymous imprint) is quite a character. An amusing character.
Then, that night, there was a kidlit bloggers' drink night out on the patio, which brought up the VERY interesting problem that nobody knew how to recognize each other in person. Plus, there were non-bloggers there, and it was difficult to tell who was a blogger and who wasn't. We should have all agreed to wear some kind of special symbol or sticker or name tags declaring our blogging identities. So I only ended up talking to a special few folks—Greg of Gotta Book, Kelly F. of Writing and Ruminating, fellow panelist Kelly H. of Big A little a and TEOTF, Sara of Read. Write. Believe., Jay Asher of Disco Mermaids, and relatively new blogger Melissa (sorry, can't find your blog at the moment!!). Still, it was great seeing how many people turned out for the get-together, even if not everyone was a blogger.
Tune in later for the second half of What We Did (and Who We Saw)!
Thursday evening I ended up being our panel's unofficial representative at the faculty kick-off dinner, which was an interesting experience—as probably the only person present who was not either a published author or illustrator, an about-to-be-published author or illustrator (unless you count that still-forthcoming, date TBA short story), or someone in the publishing industry, I felt a bit out of place, but excited to be part of things.
I was assigned to the same dinner table as non-fiction author Carla McClafferty, Smartwriters.com's Roxyanne Young, graphic novel expert Mac McCool (not his real name), art director (for Henry Holt) Laurent Linn, and Cecil Castellucci, plus a handful of others whose names I didn't quite catch (and if you're reading this, sorry! I'm horrible with names!!). And before the actual dinner, I got to meet four representatives of the Class of 2k7—Disco Mermaid Jay Asher, sweet and funny Carrie Jones, and two Gregs (Neri and Fishbone). I especially owe Carrie, Greg, and Greg for making me feel a whole lot less nervous—and less alone in my remaining nervousness. Other than my having to scuttle, embarrassed, to the bathroom in the middle of Lin Oliver's announcements to the group, it was a fitting start to the weekend.
Much better than the following morning, for which I showed up tardy after being caught in traffic…but then I found myself running late into the building with Cecil Castellucci, who'd also been delayed, so that was an interesting start to the day. Though, as TadMack and Little Willow noted, we had to forgo the first couple of keynote speeches on Friday in favor of…erm…preparing our presentation, we were able to see an excellent breakout session from the inimitable Tamora Pierce, as well as some interesting comments about professional criticism from an array of editors. As it turns out, Arthur Levine (he of the eponymous imprint) is quite a character. An amusing character.
Then, that night, there was a kidlit bloggers' drink night out on the patio, which brought up the VERY interesting problem that nobody knew how to recognize each other in person. Plus, there were non-bloggers there, and it was difficult to tell who was a blogger and who wasn't. We should have all agreed to wear some kind of special symbol or sticker or name tags declaring our blogging identities. So I only ended up talking to a special few folks—Greg of Gotta Book, Kelly F. of Writing and Ruminating, fellow panelist Kelly H. of Big A little a and TEOTF, Sara of Read. Write. Believe., Jay Asher of Disco Mermaids, and relatively new blogger Melissa (sorry, can't find your blog at the moment!!). Still, it was great seeing how many people turned out for the get-together, even if not everyone was a blogger.
Tune in later for the second half of What We Did (and Who We Saw)!
August 06, 2007
Briefly
Paper Tigers has an awesome Australian author interview. (A portent of great things to come later this month!) Via the ever-fab Ya Ya Ya's, who have amusing -- and really strange -- news about The Dangerous Book for Boys. And may I just join them in saying "Huh?"
"What's In Their Backpack?" at The Edge of the Forest: Way too cute.
The Guardian's Imogene Russell Williams bemoans the lack of anti-heroes in fiction for girls. Though I'd never heard of the character she mentioned (Flossie Teacakes?!), I doubt we're suffering from a surfeit of sweetness in the kidlit world. Weren't people just complaining about our girl Junie B? Has this woman never met Ramona Quimby?
I think it's possible that the writer may not have read a children's book since sometime in the eighties... when she was a child? (Or else there really is very little cross-over between here and the UK?!) A few people responded to this post, but I know we can come up with more than a few novels which don't feature sickeningly sweet girls - or even girls who long to be eighteen. My list begins with Flora Segunda, how about yours?
"What's In Their Backpack?" at The Edge of the Forest: Way too cute.
The Guardian's Imogene Russell Williams bemoans the lack of anti-heroes in fiction for girls. Though I'd never heard of the character she mentioned (Flossie Teacakes?!), I doubt we're suffering from a surfeit of sweetness in the kidlit world. Weren't people just complaining about our girl Junie B? Has this woman never met Ramona Quimby?
I think it's possible that the writer may not have read a children's book since sometime in the eighties... when she was a child? (Or else there really is very little cross-over between here and the UK?!) A few people responded to this post, but I know we can come up with more than a few novels which don't feature sickeningly sweet girls - or even girls who long to be eighteen. My list begins with Flora Segunda, how about yours?
What We Said About You, II
You may have been surprised at what we said at our Conference chat, but you probably would not have been. We talked about... you.
We mentioned all the great stuff you do -- from Poetry Fridays to 48 Hour Book Challenge to the 7 Imp's weekend 7 Kicks, to La Bloga's multifacted multicultural book coverage to the Longstocking's multi-talented offerings, to the YaYaYa's library-centric themes, to the Chicago Kidlit Conference and onward. We talked about the Carnival of Children's Literature, WBBT, SBBT, Wicked Cool Overlooked Books, the One Shot World Tour (Best Read With Vegemite!) and more. We talked about your sites, your passion for picture books, your secret plans to take over the kidlitosphere (Oops. Did we say that one out loud?), and your place in the world of book reviews (Exactly where you want to be - wherever that is. Front and center, a little to the left the side, wherever.).
We asked a few questions (not enough, as it turns out) of our small audience, and found that a few of them blog (yes! The very sweet and friendly and down-to-earth Cynthia Leitich Smith was in the houuuuse! And Tamora Pierce. Still gobsmacked about that. Still.) and many more want to get into blogging for whatever reason - to promote their books or to interact with authors -- but they haven't figured out how. We issued a genial invitation that some of them just might take up... or not. Do expect people to drop by and say hello and say they heard about you at SCBWI. Especially if you do author interviews (which seem to be a big draw), were involved with the Cybils, or if you're involved with The Edge of the Forest (And pssst! Don't miss the latest issue!).
We did not talk much about our own blogs -- those weren't the point. We had screen shots of ...yours (quite nice ones, too. I'll send you the slideshow if you ask nicely) and in the sliver of time and space we had - (We wish we'd had so much more time to show all of your blogs! And then again... an hour seemed eternity...) - we put you on display. We had only one hour and fifty-four slides (with this fabulous chalkboard background Gina cooked up for us) but we represented you, quoted you, displayed you and praised you as much as possible.
As one woman asked, "What do you people get out of this?"
Um. Nothing. And everything.
People -- you are flippin' awesome.
And what you do for books, YA lit, and the kidlitosphere? Ditto.
We mentioned all the great stuff you do -- from Poetry Fridays to 48 Hour Book Challenge to the 7 Imp's weekend 7 Kicks, to La Bloga's multifacted multicultural book coverage to the Longstocking's multi-talented offerings, to the YaYaYa's library-centric themes, to the Chicago Kidlit Conference and onward. We talked about the Carnival of Children's Literature, WBBT, SBBT, Wicked Cool Overlooked Books, the One Shot World Tour (Best Read With Vegemite!) and more. We talked about your sites, your passion for picture books, your secret plans to take over the kidlitosphere (Oops. Did we say that one out loud?), and your place in the world of book reviews (Exactly where you want to be - wherever that is. Front and center, a little to the left the side, wherever.).We asked a few questions (not enough, as it turns out) of our small audience, and found that a few of them blog (yes! The very sweet and friendly and down-to-earth Cynthia Leitich Smith was in the houuuuse! And Tamora Pierce. Still gobsmacked about that. Still.) and many more want to get into blogging for whatever reason - to promote their books or to interact with authors -- but they haven't figured out how. We issued a genial invitation that some of them just might take up... or not. Do expect people to drop by and say hello and say they heard about you at SCBWI. Especially if you do author interviews (which seem to be a big draw), were involved with the Cybils, or if you're involved with The Edge of the Forest (And pssst! Don't miss the latest issue!).
We did not talk much about our own blogs -- those weren't the point. We had screen shots of ...yours (quite nice ones, too. I'll send you the slideshow if you ask nicely) and in the sliver of time and space we had - (We wish we'd had so much more time to show all of your blogs! And then again... an hour seemed eternity...) - we put you on display. We had only one hour and fifty-four slides (with this fabulous chalkboard background Gina cooked up for us) but we represented you, quoted you, displayed you and praised you as much as possible.
As one woman asked, "What do you people get out of this?"
Um. Nothing. And everything.
People -- you are flippin' awesome.
And what you do for books, YA lit, and the kidlitosphere? Ditto.
Wicked Cool Overlooked Books: Betsy Byars and the Summer of YA
The book, by the time I read it, was probably eleven years old. There had been reams of other YA novels printed, awards awarded, and the author had gone on to many other things.
You have to understand how it was, though. Books -- fiction books -- were for me the rarest gold. I grew up without fairytales, without science fiction (with the notable exception of the original Star Trek reruns on TV. When we were allowed to watch TV.), and certainly without a concept of fiction directed towards my age group. Unless it was a Reader's Digest Condensed Book, or a sort of Guidepost/Chicken Soup/missionary story, I had to find it at school. Of course, at school, there was tons of great non-fiction (Molly Pitcher: Girl Patriot,
copyright 1952 was a favorite), but I never had as much time for curling up and reading plain old stories - wildly fictional, partially true, entirely ridiculous - as I wanted. So, it was with considerable jealousy that I regarded my cousin, Dee Dee.
Three years younger than me, and the girl had everything. I remember it was at a family function -- there were radio-controlled cars, lots of relatives talking and laughing, and the kids all underfoot. I was bored, and eeled my way under a low closet rail in my cousin's gaping closet, where I sat, hidden, and cranky. I looked around at the surfeit of ...frippery that had exploded everywhere, and I found, on the floor, bent and discarded, a paperback book.
It was short. It had a yellowy-greenish sticker on it, which I ignored, and the cover had a picture of a girl, and a little boy, and a massive bird which arched up like a bridge behind them. I opened to the first page, and read.
Somewhere in West Virginia, there was a girl with orange sneakers who hated her ugly this-is-what-we-can-afford shoes, and thought her dad hated her: just like me. I was almost ten.
I considered stealing that book. My father bellowed up the stairs for me, and I had only read the first few chapters. Sara Godfrey's hair wasn't looking good, but something worse was going on -- Charlie thought he'd heard the swans, and had left the house to go after them. Charlie was "retarded," which is the word the book used. I was worried sick, and it was time to go. Indecision! I stood with the book in my hand, and my cousin bounced in.
"Is this your book?" I asked her faintly, trying to summon a feeling of apology.
"Oh, Mom bought that. You want it? You can have it," she said with the cheerful disregard of someone whose mother bought them books all the time. (This is not to say my mother did not. We just didn't have money for books. We went to the library, and were steered toward non-fiction... and Snoopy, God bless him. I think I've read every Peanuts book that exists.)
I probably should have double-checked with an adult, but that wasn't going to happen. I tucked it under my shirt, into my waistband, crossed my arms, and went home. I fell in love with Betsy Byars and The Summer of the Swans. I read that paperback until it disintegrated.
The Newberry Project describes the book's illustrations and references as a little dated, but the story itself as "timeless." And yes - that yellowy green "sticker" was the Newberry Medal, which I disregarded entirely. This book was the very first YA novel I ever read -- and there were many years after in which I dutifully read what well-meaning and ennobling, character-building, intelligence-expanding, and perfectly good nonfiction that was put before me (and it was perfectly good, and I enjoyed it... but you always want what you are told you can't have, don't you?), but this was -- the first feast that led to me sniffing after other book crumbs, other 'truths' that existed devoid of the rigid structure of fact.
What was your first? Do you remember?
Stay tuned for more Wicked Cool Overlooked Books (now with zombies and hillbillies!) around the kidlitosphere!
You have to understand how it was, though. Books -- fiction books -- were for me the rarest gold. I grew up without fairytales, without science fiction (with the notable exception of the original Star Trek reruns on TV. When we were allowed to watch TV.), and certainly without a concept of fiction directed towards my age group. Unless it was a Reader's Digest Condensed Book, or a sort of Guidepost/Chicken Soup/missionary story, I had to find it at school. Of course, at school, there was tons of great non-fiction (Molly Pitcher: Girl Patriot,
copyright 1952 was a favorite), but I never had as much time for curling up and reading plain old stories - wildly fictional, partially true, entirely ridiculous - as I wanted. So, it was with considerable jealousy that I regarded my cousin, Dee Dee.
Three years younger than me, and the girl had everything. I remember it was at a family function -- there were radio-controlled cars, lots of relatives talking and laughing, and the kids all underfoot. I was bored, and eeled my way under a low closet rail in my cousin's gaping closet, where I sat, hidden, and cranky. I looked around at the surfeit of ...frippery that had exploded everywhere, and I found, on the floor, bent and discarded, a paperback book.
It was short. It had a yellowy-greenish sticker on it, which I ignored, and the cover had a picture of a girl, and a little boy, and a massive bird which arched up like a bridge behind them. I opened to the first page, and read.
Somewhere in West Virginia, there was a girl with orange sneakers who hated her ugly this-is-what-we-can-afford shoes, and thought her dad hated her: just like me. I was almost ten.
I considered stealing that book. My father bellowed up the stairs for me, and I had only read the first few chapters. Sara Godfrey's hair wasn't looking good, but something worse was going on -- Charlie thought he'd heard the swans, and had left the house to go after them. Charlie was "retarded," which is the word the book used. I was worried sick, and it was time to go. Indecision! I stood with the book in my hand, and my cousin bounced in.
"Is this your book?" I asked her faintly, trying to summon a feeling of apology.
"Oh, Mom bought that. You want it? You can have it," she said with the cheerful disregard of someone whose mother bought them books all the time. (This is not to say my mother did not. We just didn't have money for books. We went to the library, and were steered toward non-fiction... and Snoopy, God bless him. I think I've read every Peanuts book that exists.)
I probably should have double-checked with an adult, but that wasn't going to happen. I tucked it under my shirt, into my waistband, crossed my arms, and went home. I fell in love with Betsy Byars and The Summer of the Swans. I read that paperback until it disintegrated.
"A picture came into her mind of the laughing, curly-headed man with the broken tooth in the photograph album, and she suddenly saw life as a series of huge, uneven steps, and she saw herself on the steps, standing motionless in her prison shirt, and she had just taken an enormous step up out of the shadows, and she was standing, waiting, and there were other steps in front of her, so that she could go as high as the sky, and she saw Charlie on a flight of small difficult steps, and her father down at the bottom of some steps, just sitting and not trying to go further. She saw everyone she knew on those blinding white steps, and for a moment everything was clearer than it had ever been."
The Newberry Project describes the book's illustrations and references as a little dated, but the story itself as "timeless." And yes - that yellowy green "sticker" was the Newberry Medal, which I disregarded entirely. This book was the very first YA novel I ever read -- and there were many years after in which I dutifully read what well-meaning and ennobling, character-building, intelligence-expanding, and perfectly good nonfiction that was put before me (and it was perfectly good, and I enjoyed it... but you always want what you are told you can't have, don't you?), but this was -- the first feast that led to me sniffing after other book crumbs, other 'truths' that existed devoid of the rigid structure of fact.
What was your first? Do you remember?
Stay tuned for more Wicked Cool Overlooked Books (now with zombies and hillbillies!) around the kidlitosphere!
August 05, 2007
Ten Five Things I Wish We'd Had Time to Cover at SCBWI
Five...four...three...two...one. Anonymity.
Sadly (and yet...) I have to leave the Conference today. No more name tags on a lanyard around my neck to make me cringe as people bend to study them (or, worse, for me to forget, and then wander around Beverly Hills advertising my name like a dork), and no more of the word 'Faculty' reminding me that I should be more helpful and assist people in finding their conference rooms (okay, I'd do that anyway, but this time people actually looked to me. Which was sad, since I actually walked into a dead-end hallway trying to find an exit. Twice.). Probably the nicest thing about being a screen name instead of a real-life person will be the lack of cameras (ahem). I hate to leave early, because there's still so much great stuff, but final revisions for my next novel (!!!!) -- and preparing for a massive garage sale -- beckon.
Since the haze of horror from actually having to speak in public is somewhat fading, I've been analyzing what we said -- and what I dearly wished we'd had a chance to cover... and cover again... and cover again... and repeat (but it was only an hour, thankfully... and alas). These are a few points I would wish anyone wanting to know about the kidlitosphere blogworld to ponder:
1.) There is a difference between we bloggers who are writers, and bloggers who are readers and reviewers and book 'recommenders' - and a difference between booksellers and librarians and parents and teachers. We have different points of view. We introduced ourselves to indicate to you where we came from in our different walks of life. We are not all the same. There is, however, a similarity as well. We. All. Love. Books. That's why the kidlit blogosphere exists.
2.) Our talk was not about what blogging could do for you. Our talk was about what blogging and the kidlitosphere has done for us. There is still time to attend a session by C.L. Smith (or Roxyanne Young or any of the people who list blogging and finance together) and get more of the other angle. Check your Conference schedule.
3.) Our talk was not a how-to of blogging, and we're really sorry if people came to our presentation expecting a network lesson. Do a search on 'how to blog' or check blogger.com for step-by-step details to create your own. We learned by trial and error -- we firmly believe that you can, too.
4.) We never intended to provide marketing assistance to any one population (we're lookin' at YOU, Oz.). We do not presume to have read all the books in the world, including yours, so any confrontational accusation that we haven't reviewed your book? Means... nothing. We still might not review your book. We don't run a review service. However. Many bloggers in the kidlitosphere are contacted regularly by publishers and have books sent to them. We love books, and we're always happy to get more. This does not constitute any kind of agreement to review your book, advertise for you, or ... anything, really. Which leads me to another thought, which is not really a point, but more of a soapbox rant from observing some weird interactions yesterday, so we won't count it:
(Aside:) Blogging is a largely anonymous pursuit. As the moon only shows one face, so do you only know one facet of any blogger you 'think' you know. For instance, Nerdfighter you may know yourself to be, you do not know John Green. Cult of Castellucci? I'm all over it. But you won't see me running up to the poor woman and flinging myself at her. I'm just sayin'.
5.) Our corner of the kidlitosphere is more about dialoguing about children's literature, because that is our area of interest to us, than it is about any particular aspect of our professional careers - developing or promoting ourselves as authors. As authors, we tend to be inward looking, and focus so closely on our own work that we lose sight of the rest of our milieu. Blogging helps me, at least, balance that laser-focus with a view of other worlds, other books and styles I might not encounter, and other people.
*************
Okay, I wanted to rant for ten things? But John Green speaks on All Writing is Rewriting at 9:30, and then there's Tamora Pierce morning workshop, so I'll get back to this...
August 04, 2007
In the Thick of It...
Just a quick greeting at WAY too early in the morning, before I drive in to the SCBWI conference...as TadMack said below, our panel...went, and went pretty well, and we're happy. The biggest trip was, of course, meeting people face-to-face for the first time. It was fun--plus we have this way cool picture with the Disco Mermaids thanks to Kelly H.
Another highlight was the blogger meet-up on the patio in the evening--meeting so many people (and not being sure, always, exactly which bloggers they were...a hazard of not knowing what anybody actually looks like in real life) and getting to talk in person. I'll dish on details later--breakfast calls!
Another highlight was the blogger meet-up on the patio in the evening--meeting so many people (and not being sure, always, exactly which bloggers they were...a hazard of not knowing what anybody actually looks like in real life) and getting to talk in person. I'll dish on details later--breakfast calls!
August 03, 2007
Poetry Friday: Late, But Here!
We're here!
SCBWI is the usual surreal collage of sights and sounds and impressions -- as usual, the weekend is going too fast, and I am a little worried by the number of photographers snapping my non-photogenic self, but our presentation was mostly coherent, the slide projector didn't break, and nobody died. Pretty good for a first year. There was high drama putting almost a thousand people in a low-ceilinged lobby against finding each other -- it more of a challenge than it should have been (someday I must tell you about blogger Big A, little a's ...allegedly black outfit and turquoise sandals which never materialized...), but all's well that ends, right? As for our presentation -- We were REALLY EXCITED when Tamora Pierce dropped by to sit in on our session -- it was all I could do not to point and squeal! But she asked questions about the 48 Hour Book Challenge and we hope to see her 'round the kidlitosphere soon.
Don't miss the Guardian's short piece on Phillip Pullman, and his recent in-depth interview in the UK Literary Review. Pullman talks about the deeper questions of religion in Lyra's story -- his follow up to His Dark Materials will be ...unusual, to say the least.
And now, my short but well-loved poem for Poetry Friday. I won't even bother linking it to everyone else's, since it's so late, but it is a poem best read in a laconic and mildly amused voice, the way it was first read to me.
SCBWI is the usual surreal collage of sights and sounds and impressions -- as usual, the weekend is going too fast, and I am a little worried by the number of photographers snapping my non-photogenic self, but our presentation was mostly coherent, the slide projector didn't break, and nobody died. Pretty good for a first year. There was high drama putting almost a thousand people in a low-ceilinged lobby against finding each other -- it more of a challenge than it should have been (someday I must tell you about blogger Big A, little a's ...allegedly black outfit and turquoise sandals which never materialized...), but all's well that ends, right? As for our presentation -- We were REALLY EXCITED when Tamora Pierce dropped by to sit in on our session -- it was all I could do not to point and squeal! But she asked questions about the 48 Hour Book Challenge and we hope to see her 'round the kidlitosphere soon.
Don't miss the Guardian's short piece on Phillip Pullman, and his recent in-depth interview in the UK Literary Review. Pullman talks about the deeper questions of religion in Lyra's story -- his follow up to His Dark Materials will be ...unusual, to say the least.
And now, my short but well-loved poem for Poetry Friday. I won't even bother linking it to everyone else's, since it's so late, but it is a poem best read in a laconic and mildly amused voice, the way it was first read to me.
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
I have eatenthe plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
-- William Carlos Williams
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