Not sure when I've read a more amazing story than this one of Victoria Ford who grew up in Memphis, part of the political Ford family.

Click on this link to read it in today's New York Times. And there's also a link to one of the poems by the winner of a $10,000 scholarship and a Scholastic Art and Writing Award, an honor previously won by Truman Capote, Joyce Carol Oates and Sylvia Plath.

Here's a bit of her poem. You can read it all here.



To a Restless Little Brother Calling for Mama in His Sleep

You may not understand this now, but she isn’t coming back. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Day after that. And no, she hasn’t left anything behind — a sticky note on the refrigerator door or a quick message for the answering machine, her voice a distant echo calling your name and mine. Nothing.

Summer Reading

What's on your list?


I'm finding a lot of the same books showing up on these "beach reads" lists. So far, I think I'll give Jennifer Haigh's novel, FAITH, a try. Having read The Condition, her previous novel, I think I'll like this one. I know I'll like it better than some of the other oddities on the NYTimes list...

Click right here for a link to the New York Times' Summer Reading List.

Hmm. And I'm not so sure about John Grisham's kids' book listed in the "Old Pros" section. His first in the Theodore Boone series was pretty widely panned.

Maybe I need to make my own Summer Reading List. Recommendations, anyone?

Oh, and Happy Beginning of Summer Memorial Day Weekend!

Learn Something New Every Day

A urinal? Really?

I love to learn new oddball facts. Especially while reading the newspaper.

Like today's New York Times article about a new statue of Pope John Paul II. 

I can't really tell from the photo provided and I'm not sure if I care enough to delve deeper or to join in the "crescendo of outrage," but I do like learning new words and factoids.

Here's my Fact of the Day:

"The starkly spare sculpture by a Rome-based artist, Oliviero Rainaldi, depicts the pope condensed into a massive mantle as if to envelop the faithful. It has been alternately described as a sentry box, a bell and a papal vespasiano, as Romans call a urinal. (Vespasian was the first-century emperor who levied a tax on urine, which was used for tanning leather.)"



Who Knew?
(Or maybe Who Cares?)

Possibly Related Post: Word A Day

Glory Be! COPYEDITS!

 Hooray! Done!

At least I hope they are done. I've been working hard all week on copyedits for GLORY BE. (copyedits? copy edits?)

Here's a pictorial look at my week.

Day 1: I'm optimistic. I have taken over the dining room table. I will not be distracted. I have a neat work space. I'm putting pink stickie notes on places that need my attention. So far the genius copyeditor for Scholastic hasn't forced me into too many unwanted commas. (Okay a few...)
I'm even thinking she may have a Southern granny somewhere in her history. She's getting it!

Day 2: I will especially not be distracted by those binoculars on the side of my workspace. I don't care what kind of bird moseys up to my window...

Day 3: Wow, look at this. Ms. Fab Copyeditor has some questions about my Time Frame. Aha! I have June and July 1964 calendars. Chapters noted. Dates and times. Counting down to July 4, 1964, Glory's birthday.

Day 4: My workspace moved back into my office. (Messy desk, I know.)

I'm inspired by that picture frame that says WORDS-- a gift of a favorite student-- and the cute little girls inside it, and by my rock paperweight made for me by Molli. It says WRITE ON.

Day 5: More mess. But that pile of pink stickies grows smaller with each day that passes. (Note to copyeditor: PURE D is so a word. It's different from PURE... And lightning bugs LIGHT on your hand. They do not ALIGHT. Sorry, Mr. Webster.)

Copyeditor asks if it's really three blocks from the park to Glory's house. In chapter two, I said across the street. GRRRRRR.

This is the map I drew of Hanging Moss, Mississippi. (Don't laugh, Eileen...)

And yes, I corrected the manuscript. Now all the houses, the pool, the Courthouse, the football field are in the right place!


Day 6: I head to the only library in Pinellas County open on Sundays. I've spent a lot of time in quiet rooms at my local libraries this spring.

I do better there than at my neighborhood Starbucks. Though the green tea is nicer at Starbucks. If I don't get to the library early, I may have to share a table. I do not like sharing tables...

(Note the crumpled up Kleenexes and cough drop papers. A good way to be sure nobody tries to sit with me?)

I got a lot done yesterday at the library. Funny, nobody wanted to share my table.

This is the serene view from the big comfy chairs in the library that's open on Sundays. Lots of birds. A lake. Spanish moss.

I do not sit in the big comfy chairs. I sit by myself upstairs in a straight chair at a table facing empty metal shelves.

And that's how I was able to hit the send button this morning.

Yay!

And the Winner Is!

Neighborhood kid doing the drawing.

And the winner is!

Sheila- email me or Facebook message me to let me know who you are and how to send your books!
(gsgood2@hotmail.com)

(I also have a backup winner, in case Sheila doesn't materialize.)

Thanks for entering, everybody. Enjoy the book, Sheila.

Last Chance! Gary Schmidt's new book!

OKAY FOR NOW. Going, going, gone. Check earlier posts for details.

Late tomorrow, I'll track down a neighborhood kid or a friendly pet, stuff all the names in a brown paper sack and draw one of my lucky commenters. Winner announced on Saturday.

Facebook and blog comments- all count!
Good book to read, donate to your library, give as a gift. And I'll include an extra bonus book or two from my ever-growing stack of review books!

Consider it a celebration of Summer Reading.

National Nurses Week

 In celebration of National Nurses Week, I'm celebrating local author, nurse, and researcher Theodora Aggeles' book about the nurses of World War II- ANSWERING THE CALL: Nurses of Post 122 .   
Click here to find the book on Amazon.

And if you're looking for a reading list or a gift suggestion, here's a list of books on nursing and medicine.

Moon Over Manifest

The most recent Newbery Medal was announced in January for a work of historical fiction- Clare Vanderpool won this prestigious award for her debut novel MOON OVER MANIFEST.

Lucky me- I got to interview Clare. My interview and my review are both posted over at The Three R's Reading 'Riting and Research blog.  Click here to go there.

Thanks to Joyce for sharing and to Clare for agreeing to speak to us.

Reading the Paper... OKAY FOR NOW

Today's New York Times Book Review features a special section on children's books. Libba Bray's Beauty Queens, books about cats and dogs, picture books, YA, quite a variety-- including Richard Peck's review of OKAY FOR NOW.  (For those of you who don't care to click over to his review, bottom line--he liked it a lot.)

I think this quote speaks to the only criticism I've heard about any of Gary Schmidt's books-- that he has too much far-fetched activity swirling around his protagonists.

“Okay for Now” is crowded with more incident and empowerment than any eighth-grade year or novel can quite contain. Events stretch credulity. At one point, Doug turns up briefly on the Broadway stage, playing a female role, no less. But Schmidt is a master of the unlikely.

Love that "master of the unlikely" thought!

Next week, I'll be drawing names for a copy of this book. Just leave a comment on this blogpost, or the previous post about OKAY FOR NOW. Or on my Facebook page. Your name will be entered.

You can decide for yourself if Schmidt is a master of the unlikely.

FREE FREE FREE FREE

My first ever giveaway!


I have a hardback, brand new copy, graciously supplied by the publisher, of Gary Schmidt's new novel.

Here's my review, just published on the Christian Science Monitor.

If you leave a comment here or in a comment to this post my facebook page, I'll put your name in a brown paper sack (see cover) and-- in a week or so-- you could be the winner.

Writing Inspiration: A Bit of a Poem

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

from Mary Oliver. "Sometimes"

Related posts: Billy Collins

Mary Oliver

Historical Fiction

 I signed up for the Historical Fiction challenge, following the lead of my fellow blogger and writer of the genre, Joyce Moyer Hostetter.  I knew it wouldn’t be much of a challenge— especially since I wimped out and signed up for the basic requirement: read five books in one year. I can do that.

I love the genre. I read anything I can get my hands on. After picking it up and putting it down for several years, I even tackled Pillars of the Earth last winter, all 973 pages of the paperback version.

So reading five Young Adult or Middle Grade historical fiction won't be hard.

Especially if I keep rereading books I’ve already read. Does that count? I decided it does, if I’m reading them in a completely different light. Which I totally am.

Take A CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE by Baby-Sitters Club writer Ann M. Martin.  When I was a school librarian, this book was one I loved to talk about with fifth graders. Now, I’m tearing it apart like a writer seeking guidance. Great characterization. Physical description that makes you think you are right there—Fred’s Funtime Carnival, Adam’s room, last year’s Summer Cotillion. A story that will break your heart if you let it or make you laugh if you’d rather.

This book is no Baby-Sitters Club. Far from it. But is it really historical fiction? Yes, the setting is 1960. Still, I wonder if every kid who reads the novel even realizes that. Martin says it, right off the bat. In the opening scene, Hattie Owen sits in her living room watching reels of family movies, in black and white. The canisters are marked with dates, and Hattie notes that the one she’s interested in is the summer she turned twelve. The summer her uncle appeared in her life.

But there’s not much mention of life in the 60s. Yes, her family runs a boarding house and the characters who live there are important to the story. But I just read a recent newspaper article about how boarding houses, now often called rooming houses, are making a big comeback. So that’s not exactly a dead giveaway for historical detail.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Unless you are trying to make your goal of reading five historical fiction middle grade or young adult books this year. I’m already up to three and I’m about to begin Black Radishes. And if I could count Pillars of the Earth, I’d be there.

But truly, what is historical anyhow? I'm inclined to go with this straightforward definition from the National Council of Teachers.


I'm intrigued by this line:
In historical fiction, setting is the most important literary element.

So, A Corner of the Universe? I think I'm fudging to count it.

Related post: Historical Fiction

More Tales from the Standby Lane: Baltimore/ Washington

A trip to Washington and my old stomping grounds of Baltimore turned out to be a terrific way to spend the last weekend in April. Lunch plus a moment to share my upcoming book's story with old friends and colleagues (Thanks, Julie!), two museum opportunities, family suppers, and spring flowers.

Here's what a sunny Saturday at Hillwood Gardens, the home of Marjorie Merriweather Post, looked like.

Here is my all-time favorite line spoken all weekend:

One young teen to her younger sister, strolling down the azaleas paths:
"Just wait till you're in 7th grade next year- Shakespeare Rocks!

Now how often do you hear a kid say Shakespeare Rocks? Do you think she knew we'd just celebrated his birthday?

For those of you who aren't familiar with the lingo of my former hometown, Baltimore, Maryland, "Hon" is a term of endearment spoken in certain parts of the city. There's a whole culture around the word. You can read more about this on a previous post, here.

So the bumper sticker seen on Roland Avenue near Eddie's did not surprise me. But it did delight me, especially on a day that the whole world hoped peace wasn't far away.

This trip via the Standby Lane was a good one, even with a bit of a wait at the airport-- Newish manuscript to revise. Kindle book to read. All good.

Although I often seem to pick the most challenging days to travel on an airline pass, Monday's return trip was surprisingly anxiety free.
Southwest, like Shakespeare, rocks.

Another good revision tip...

From an excellent blogpost by Anita Nolan-

Last is most. Check the last sentence in every paragraph. It should be the most important. Check the final word in every sentence, and particularly the last word of the paragraph. The sentence should end with an important or strong word to pull readers forward. (This is tedious work, but becomes automatic the more you do it.)

Tedious but surprisingly fun to do...

Said is NOT Dead

Part 2, a continuation...

You know how once you start noticing something, it seems to be everywhere you look?

That's what happened today with SAID as a dialogue tag. I'd been reading a perfectly good middle grade historical novel. The debut author has received praise and glowing reviews. I actually love the story, so far. But today, I had to put it aside until I get this whole SAID thing out of my head.

Here are a few of her dialogue tags, from a random opening of two consecutive pages:
Instead of said, the (fairly young, I think) author has written

stormed
snorted
cried
murmured

And actually that's just under two pages, because it's the beginning of a chapter.
The funny thing is, I really didn't notice when I picked the book up last week. Today? Couldn't help it.

So maybe that was just those pages. I'll check two more:
explained
went on
asked (ok, that's no big deal)
added
And three saids on those pages.

There are also a lot of LY adverbs. I'm not talking about using these words in description or interior monologue or anything other than pure dialogue tags. Hmm.

Are there editors out there who are suggesting these revisions? Because this book was from a major publisher. So maybe this is the new trend, and not just with school kids. Maybe this young writer went to school in a Said Is Dead school district? They're all over the place. A quick google will turn up a whole boatload of lists, lesson plans, books-- you name it.

Maybe I'm missing something.

He Said, She Said

My fingers tremble as I write this. I'm almost afraid to open this debate. Do I dare?

But, fellow writers, do you know there's a move underfoot to teach young writers the importance of using dialogue tags other than SAID????

Okay, I know there are exceptions to every writing rule. But, especially for young readers, the dialogue tag "said" is mostly best. Not exclusively, perhaps. But mostly.

Characters hissing and pouting and grumpily saying their lines-- this so goes against my grain.

I have Darcy Pattison's book Novel Metamorphosis open in front of me this morning:

"The actual words of the character should already reflect tone, emotion attitude."

In other words, SAID is just fine. Perhaps if used exclusively, it would get boring. Mix it up maybe? But do not overdo the adverbs attached to your SAIDs either.

Pattison goes on: "Also, avoid adverbs and present participles."
ex: She said quaintly.
He said, gently scratching his nose.

(OK, I do that last one a lot, she types, reading along with the book. I'm working on it, but it doesn't bother me so much.)

Pattison goes on to say that these work occasionally but don't let them become a habit.
But I agree it's often better to "omit the action or use a separate sentence with the action more direct or more interesting."

And Anita Nolan, another very wise blogger/ editor, re: revising:

Look at the dialogue tags. Stick to "he/she said" for most tags. Use beats (actions) when possible to eliminate a tag. For example. instead of:
      "Shut the window!" she yelled.
      Try
      "Shut the window!" Her shrill voice ricocheted around the room.       
Or:       
       "Shut the window!" She crossed the room and slammed it closed herself.
 
     •    Eliminate adverbs when possible. Search and destroy "-ly" words.

So, teachers, please. Do not over-emphasize the dialogue tags.
No to HISSED, especially. It's hard to hiss a simple declarative sentence with no ssss sounds in it.

I'm not even bothering to put up a link to this movement: "Said is Dead." But it's out there. Google it and you will get lesson plans, tips, serious attempts to rid the world of SAID. A writer friend tells me she's received letters from students, re-writing her award-winning novels using different verbs for said. 

I envision the next generation of books for kids, written by these very same youngsters studying this movement. They are filled with dialogue that is hissed, spit, sighed, giggled, cried sadly, laughed loudly...

Started Early Took My Dog

  If you want a really terrific, complete review of Scottish writer Kate Atkinson's latest Jackson Brodie mystery, check out this review from last week's New York Times Book Review.

I couldn't say it any better myself so I won't even try.

Besides, the book is overdue at my library and has a zillion others waiting, so I'll make this brief. Check out one of my prior posts here if you don't know these books. Gentle reminder: Read the books in order for maximum enjoyment.



Book 1- Case Histories
Book 2- One Good Turn
Book 3- When Will There Be Good News?





Here are a few places I stickie-noted because they made me laugh and made me sigh. She's such a terrific writer.

(Jackson's observation)

In the half century of his life, a tick on the Doomsday Clock, he had borne witness to the most unbelievable technological advances. He had started off listening to an old Bush valve radio in the corner of the living room and now he had a phone in his hand on which he could pretend to throw a scrunched-up piece of paer into a waste bin. The world had waited a long time for that.

(Tracy describing a scene.)

It took Tracy a second or two to realize that she was trying to flirt with Arkwright. She was deluded. It was like trying to flirt with a wardrobe.

(Jackson and his dog on the run.)
He didn't want to incur the wrath of his hostess for the night by waking her from her beauty sleep. She needed all she could get.

And if you're curious, like I was, the title comes from an Emily Dickinson poem, which you can read in its entirety by clicking here.

What's Nature Got to Do With It?

It's my turn this month over at my group blog: A Good Blog is Hard to Find.

Which, in this case, really isn't. Such talented Southern writers! Many of your favorites. Check them out.

Click right here for my take on using nature in your writing.

And here's a preview of my inspiration!

April is Poetry Month

 

Check it out! (http://www.poets.org/index.php)

 And I almost missed it. (Though I did post this great link, filled with ideas for teachers, from the School Library Journal Blog onto my Facebook status. Does that count?)

Luckily for me Greg Pincus didn't forget that April is Poetry Month. He's been posting a Poem A Day over on his blog. I caught up with a few today.


Click here for one of my favorites.
Who could resist that title?
Here's a taste:

The Playroom Floor Writes a Novel
by
Heidi Mordhorst

Chapter One: A Fine Day for an Outing

a cozy Kleenex box

a stuffed caterpillar

a plastic slice of cucumber

three pennies

and a Spiderman motorcycle

 Go ahead. Click that link up there and keep reading! And Happy Poetry Month everybody.

The Wednesday Wars

Not a new book. But such a great book!
I'm rereading Gary Schmidt's Newbery Honor book from 2007 in anticipation of reviewing his brand new, which he's calling a companion to this one. More on that soon.

If you've a middle-grade kid in your life, rush right out and get your hands on this book. I'm laughing a lot. But there's also the writing- oh the writing!

Let's just start with the main character's name: Holling Hoodhood. Now I'm a sucker for names- the wackier the better. (I recently named, unnamed, and renamed a character Sister Cockersole, but that's another long story...) So right off the bat, I'm crazy about Holling. Then he gets stuck with a teacher, all by himself, in her classroom every Wednesday while the rest of his class is carted off to Hebrew School or the local Catholic Wednesday afternoon Catechism classes. Not Holling; he's a Presbyterian. So what does he do? Or rather, what does the teacher decide he's to do? Shakespeare.

Here's his take on that:
(convinced he's missed a sporting event he really had his heart set on because he's bargained to play a role with the local theater company)

I almost cried. Almost. But I didn't, because if you're in seventh grade and you cry while wearing a blue floral cape and yellow tights with white feathers on the butt, you just have to curl up and die somewhere in a dark alley.

And what he has to say about Much Ado About Nothing? Hilarious!

This is not one of those reviews that gives the story away. Oh, no. The story's much too good for that. Let me just add that it's hard for me not to like a book about Diagramming Sentences. Or a kid whose take on diagramming sentences includes the phrase "No native speaker of the English language could diagram this sentence." Yes. Mrs. Baker is a teacher with complex participle phrases on her mind. For that alone I'd love her.

Great book. Read or reread it. For those of us participating in the Historical Fiction challenge? The Wednesday Wars is set during the Vietnam War era, significantly so. I think surely it qualifies.

SIBA Awards

I always love seeing the OKRA picks (no resemblance to my lunch the other day. Well, maybe.) Great Southern books.

Now SIBA (Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance) has announced the finalists for their 2011 Award. I am so reading these books, as soon as I whittle my Must Read list down a bit. But I've already read a couple, and all of the YA Nominees.  (There were only three, but still.)

Has anyone read Pete the Cat- a picture book my friend Patty loves?  It's on the children's list.

Click here for the complete list.

Here's the Fiction (Includes two of my favs!):

Bloodroot by Amy Greene (Vintage Books)
Burning Bright by Ron Rash (Ecco Press)
Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin (William Morrow)
On Folly Beach by Karen White (New American Library)
Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman (Penguin)

Getting Closer

How appropriate that today's word is Denouement.

That's just where I hope to be very soon. Not yet, but soon. 

As soon as I finish tinkering with the middle, polishing up the climax, then on to the denouement...

And originating from KNOTS? Hmmm.  Also appropriate. Knotty!
(I also like that "thought of the day.")


 Wordsmith.org    The Magic of Words
Apr 12, 2011
This week's theme
Words originating in knots
     
A.Word.A.Day
with Anu Garg

denouement

PRONUNCIATION:
(day-noo-MAHN)
[the final syllable is nasal]
MEANING:
noun: The final resolution of the plot of a story or a complex sequence of events.

ETYMOLOGY:
From French dénouement (outcome or conclusion; literally, untying), from dénouer (to unknot or undo), from de- (from) + nouer (to tie), from Latin nodus (knot). Ultimately from the Indo-European root ned- (to bind), which is also the source of node, noose, annex, connect, ouch, and nettle. Earliest documented use: 1752.

USAGE:
"But in Japan's narrative, the denouement is elusive. This disaster story keeps building, growing worse."
Japan's Crucible; Chicago Tribune (Illinois); Mar 15, 2011.

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these. -George Washington Carver, scientist (1864-1943)

Research!

I find history in the most unexpected places.

Like lunch.





Today we stopped in at one of St. Petersburg's oldest dining establishments: Munch's. I looked at the photo above our booth.

This is the elementary school down the street from the diner.  Lakewood Elementary School, 1964. That little girl in the front row so could be the heroine of my novel. Hello, Glory!

Or maybe this is better. Again, in the front row. Long hair. With her friend Frankie sitting behind her. Except where are his glasses? How about the boy with the Safety Patrol sash? Remember those?

While pondering the pictures, I ordered lunch. Fried green tomatoes --the specialty of the house. Yum. And they were out of french fries so Adele the waitress offered me FRIED OKRA. I thought I'd died and floated to heaven.

 What a perfect culmination of eating and learning.

Certainly okra must be brain food, right?

Just what I need, to revise and polish.

Show Don't Tell!

(Which has nothing to do with Show and Tell)

My editor put a lot of this in her revision notes. I'm really working hard on the Showing thing. Or as my friend Leslie reminded me when I called in a panic from outside my cave in the library-- and I think she said this is straight out of one of my favorite craft books, Self Editing for Fiction Writers-- RUE!

Resist the Urge to Explain.

I'm not even sure how I landed on this blog early this morning. I think I followed a link from the very helpful Writers Knowledge Base. But it's something I'll keep in the back of my brain as I re-write to SHOW and stop this pesky TELLING.

Click here if it's your problem also. Tips and Tricks for editing your novel.
A quick list of words to avoid, red flags that you are about to go into telling mode.
(hint: When, As, Could see, Realized)

Scholastic, NYC. Post #2.

One last post about my fabulous trip to New York, and then I really do need to stop floating, get back to earth, and dig deeper into my final polishing of GLORY BE. (But really, I was at the library at 8:30 this morning, working working working.)

Four of us were invited to be part of the Debut Author luncheon at Scholastic. Our instructions were clear. Talk about ourselves, how we came to write these novels, and do a short reading. 10 minutes max for the entire presentation.

Advice from friends and family included

1. Use your Southern-est voice
2. Be funny
3. Speak slowly and breathe deeply
4. Equate yourself with Eudora Welty.

Yeah, right.

Well, the drawl comes naturally.  ✔ Check.
Funny? Hmmm. And Eudora Welty is my hero, but I'm not about to climb on that high mountain.

Instead, I started out with one of my favorite (non-Southern) writer quotes:

"Let your fiction grow from the land beneath your feet."

(Willa Cather)

Then I talked about my first inspiration- A talk given by Ruby Bridges, ten years ago, while I was still the librarian at the Kent Place School in Summit, NJ.  And my final joy when my agent called to tell me her dream editor Andrea Pinkney wanted to buy the book.

I went on to tell a few true things in the story:
Our streets flooded, often. I was once caught skipping church, playing in the rain, and singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall with Nan and Frank and Beverly.
Robert Kennedy really came to town.
We had an amazing librarian.
My sister and I played Junk Poker, a game of 21/ Blackjack we made up.
My beloved Alice and I read Nancy Drew together.
I've seen Elvis's house in Tupelo, before it was a national shrine.

And some of what was pure fiction, based on historical research (most of the actual plot):
During "Freedom Summer," my hometown never closed the town pools, parks, schools, etc.
My daddy, unlike Glory's, didn't care if my sister and I played poker and bet our Cracker Jack prizes, Doublemint gum, pecans from the back yard, and other valuables.

The highlight of my talk, no doubt, was when I unveiled the Buster Brown shoebox, a la Junk Poker, tied with the beautiful purple ribbon. And revealed my prized possessions inside. ☺

As I said yesterday, it was a drizzly day in New York. This is what I saw from my window. I love the thought, even if it is a beer ad.

 The heavens opened up and the rains poured down, just as I started toward the Scholastic headquarters.

I was so happy to discover I'd brought my fabulous cardinal and straw-colored Spinnaker Purse Snatcher, made by my friend Leslie.

My Junk Poker box and my chapter to read aloud traveled, safe and dry, for their big moment. (And not that I doubted it a minute, Leslie, but the bag is completely waterproof! As promised.)

 After the luncheon, the sun came out. Though no flowers could be seen, the day was beautiful.





Before leaving for the airport, I had a teaparty in the big squishy chairs of the Soho Grand's lobby, with my agent, Linda Pratt. She gave me these precious little notebooks. I adore the quotes.

(Sigh....)

Wow.

What an amazing 30 hours I just had! I'll blog more about content when I've had a chance to process all that excitement. But here's a taste of my time at the Scholastic Spring Sales Luncheon and overnight in Soho.

I arrived early Monday. See that tiny guy holding a sign. That would be my driver, Frank. The sign says SCATTERGOOD. My usual mode of pickup at Newark is Al or Kay or Jay slowing down at the curb outside, so this was quite something.



Sorry about the quality of the photo. I didn't want to appear too geeky so I tried to look like I was just checking my mail on the phone. I think he knew. Turns out the last time J.K. Rowling was in town, Frank picked her up. Big head alert!



My driver immediately asked where I was from and didn't buy either NJ or FL. Turns out he spent a year at Keesler AFB in Biloxi and loves Mississippi. I was already milking my revived southern accent for all it was worth. After all, my novel is set in the totally fictional Hanging Moss, Mississippi, and the next day I needed to be ready for my reading!





The Soho Grand is an amazing hotel! Although the weather drizzled a lot and poured down one day, it didn't stop me from walking all over the place.

I loved this sign. If you look closely, maybe you can see my reflection in the window, taking another picture. I've never felt like a tourist in the city, but this trip I sure did!

Here's my first look at the Scholastic building on Broadway in Soho. It was an easy walk from our hotel.

On Monday night, I had dinner with my amazing brilliant editor, Andrea Pinkney. I ordered what I always do when at an Italian restaurant back in NY/NJ - pasta. We talked for over two hours about my book.

On the walk back to the hotel, we ran into Linda Sue Park. She was there for a different Scholastic event. I adored A Single Shard, her Newbery book. I wanted to tell her that but I was pretty much speechless.

Fortunately, by the next day, I'd regained my ability to speak!

It poured rain later in the morning on Tuesday, but by the time the occasion ended, the sun was peeking out. Alas, I took no photos of the actual event. That would have been way too star-struck! The sales people from all over the country, the publicity folks, 4 editors and their debut authors were there. We had a fabulous luncheon, in a glass atrium at the top of the Scholastic building. I met so many enthusiastic people!

More to come on that.

After a pot of tea and a long overdue visit with my remarkable and fun agent, Linda Pratt, I saw that my driver was waiting. I could so get used to this mode of travel. He whisked me through the Holland Tunnel in record time. I got an early flight home. The sky was beautiful. I was on the left side of the airplane with a phenomenal view of the sunset.

As the plane landed in Tampa, a tiny sliver of a moon was visible from my window. Jay arrived at curbside to pick me up soon after I texted him.

When I asked why he wasn't waiting at baggage claim, holding a sign, he told me to be careful I wasn't getting a big head...

Now, reality sets in. Tweaking and polishing, a lot of hard work still ahead. But for those fabulous 30 hours, I felt like a celebrity. Floating on those beautiful clouds.

Names! (again)

Just in the nick of time, my book has a title!

GLORY BE!

(That's the title, not just me shouting hallelujah.) Glory is my narrator's name. The book just cried out to be titled GLORY BE. I'm so happy!

As much as I dread Titles, I love names. I love place names, character names, street names. I don't even mind Chapter Names.

Here's a name that surfaced in my newspaper and I totally love it. Goliath. I can just picture a boy in a book named Goliath. Our local Goliath is called Go by his friends. Love that also.

A recent church bulletin I tucked away for safe-keeping celebrated the lives of those who'd died in 2010 and those who were born that year. The name comparison says a lot.

Edna Mae, Shirley, Murray, Norma Betty, Doris, Hazel, Glen, Homer.

Kinsley Grace
Connor
Sarah Lucy

Can you tell which are the babies' names?

Come to think of it, maybe the old names are new again. There's also a Lola Marie on that list of babies born in 2010.

Names, names, names. Inspirational. Naming a character so makes me want to write about him.

Picking titles? Not so much. It's good to have help in that department.
Glory Be! I do love it.

Related post: Picking Titles

Things are Better With Dog...

All alone. Quiet house.
I should be writing.
Instead, I'm trying to think of clever captions.

The dog ate my homework?
The dog did it?





I can't figure out your edits. You get to work!

Show Don't Tell!


What are all those red marks anyhow?

OK, enough of this fun. Back to work.

The Dry Grass of August

Today is the official publication date. Already Amazon has a great deal on both the original paperback and the Kindle edition. Scoot right over and get a copy. Or even better, if you don't have an eReader, hustle out to your Independent Bookstore and buy it.

(I have no affiliation with the author or the publisher and knew nothing of the book until I opened it. Just so you know. ☺)

Delta Magazine sent me this book to review. And I loved it.

From what I've read, the author is a first-time novelist who has been writing, revising and starting over again for quite a few years.

Good for her!


Click here for a great interview, up now on Amazon. Or check her website, here, and maybe you'll be lucky enough to hear Mayhew speak about writing the novel in Atlanta, Greenville, Chapel Hill- all over the South. Wow, AJ Mayhew is one busy lady!

Easily compared to Secret Life of Bees and Queen of Palmyra because of the young narrator and the subject matter, The Dry Grass of August is set in the 50s in Charlotte, Pensacola, and South Carolina.

Here's a bit of my review, posted on Amazon and Goodreads:
The narrator's voice is perfect, not so innocent that the events around her are missed. But so much of what happened in that part of the country was just plain hard to figure out for anyone. What at first glance might seem like another "Help" knock-off, is far from it. A lot happens to the family, in deep denial that anything is wrong. A summer trip to the beach has many layers, the characters are so real, the story, ultimately, heartbreaking. I predict you'll want to read this more than once.

Although some of the events are certainly sensational and remarkable, they are never sensationalized. Just a terrifically told story about race, family, first love and so much more, set in troubling times.

One Week and Counting

One week till I fly to NYC (make that Get Flown). One week from tomorrow= My Scholastic Speech.

So I'm getting organized. And all those years of hanging out in elementary schools taught me a thing or two.

Like- Bring props! We only have 5-10 minutes to talk about ourselves and our debut books. I'm going to squeeze in a little Show and Tell. Sharing Time. Visuals.

This is my Buster Brown shoebox (Thanks for the fab purple ribbon, Amanda!). My main character, Glory, and her big sister created a game, basically Blackjack, that they call Junk Poker. Of all the things in my middle-grade novel that are really true, Junk Poker is possibly the truest. My sister and I saved old skate keys, wax lips, bubble gum--all sorts of treasures-- and we bet against each other. My parents did not object. In my novel, Glory's daddy, the preacher, probably would. If he finds out. Which he won't.

Inside this shoebox are true artifacts that Glory might really have had in her Junk Poker box.

Stay tuned! I'll share soon! (hint: Elvis has not left the building.)

Cookin' With the Oldies

Today, for some strange reason, I had an overwhelming desire to pop my iPod into the speakers and listen to Oldies while making my mother's chicken spaghetti casserole. (Aside: in the South, we do NOT call our sauces "gravies"- those are saved for what tops rice, served with fried chicken or country fried steak or pork chops.)

My childhood pasta dishes combined chicken or ground beef, canned pimentos, lots of cheese. Oh, and spaghetti broken into little pieces before cooking. (OK, Lisa, I can see you out there cringing. You the Pasta Purist who warned us not to put pepper on our dishes that night at Rocco's... You were right. I promise I don't pepper the spaghetti or break it up any longer.)

The casserole recipes in my mother's church's cookbook (c. 1969)  mostly call for canned soup--mushroom, celery, etc.-- depending on the cook. But I don't keep that dreaded ingredient in my cupboard these days so I decided to upgrade. Or downgrade, depending on your POV.

Here it is-

Mama's Good-for-You Chicken Spaghetti Casserole.

Cook two chicken breasts, bone-in, in stock until done. Cut in bite-size pieces.

Cook a handful of thin whole wheat spaghetti until al dente, preferably in the leftover stock.

Saute one onion and a couple of small sweet peppers.

Mix the whole thing up, adding stock to keep it moist. Add a can of Rotel tomatoes if you're lucky enough to live where they can easily be found. Throw in some cheddar cheese, if you'd like.

Season to taste.

Put in casserole dish, top with more cheese. Bake till the inside is hot.

That's it!

(These days a lot of my recipes remind me of the first cookbook I ever owned. My grandmother gave me a copy of The I-Hate-To-Cook Cookbook. The grandmother who had no clue how to cook.)

Of course, there's a writing connection to my forthcoming children's novel. Chicken spaghetti makes an appearance at the dinner table, along with this, spoken by the young narrator:

"She'll like your chicken spaghetti. 

Don't all Yankees like spaghetti?"

10 Days and Counting

And yes, I'm counting.

In ten days I'll fly (make that BE FLOWN ) to New York for a presentation to the sales people at Scholastic. My editor and my agent tell me this is a coveted invitation. I'm sure I would have totally coveted it had I known about it. But now that I've been invited, I'm preparing. The theme is "Debut Authors" and I am one of four honored guests. And yes, I'm thrilled and impressed. More on this as we count down ten days.

Here's my first step: New business cards. My old ones looked like ladies' calling cards, circa 1950s. No blog address. Old snail mail address. Would not do.

(This is not a commentary on whether business cards are obsolete, about to be replaced by cellphone info or those little bumping logo things featured in the newspaper last week. For now, let's just say I need a few cards with my current info, okay?)

For these new beauties, I can thank Eileen Harrell of Artline Graphics in Atlanta and my fabulous Living Social offer (meant for the DC market but mistakenly came to me).


Eileen had earlier responded to my worries that my cards were blah and outdated by fiddling around and coming up with something quite spiffy. The problem was, I didn't understand a word she emailed, re: design. Color bleeding? Paper stock? Huh?  So how on earth was I to order new cards on my own? All I told her was that I'd like a design thingey, very lowkey.

She responded that design thingey is not really an art term.

Oh, dear.

Then, as I was cooling my heels waiting for a flight,  a coupon for Vistaprint arrived in my email box. I googled Vistaprint. There were some sketchy remarks. But I shot the email to Eileen and she played around with their website and mastered it completely. Yay for commercial artists!

So we did all this via email and they arrived today and I'm sure I'll be passing them to anyone who asks at the Scholastic luncheon. They are gorgeous. They feel just right. Thanks, Eileen!

Here's her funny emailed comment, when the order seemed to be going swimmingly and computers were actually working as promised.

It is pretty damn cool, when you can DO a business card with a friend from Mississippi in Fla, and NJ while in an airport on a Sunday morning, with a coupon from Washington purchased from Atlanta to be sent to a different address!

On some days, I do love computers.

Doodlebugs?

Yes, there is in fact a doodlebug. And Harvard University documents the usage.

In their terrific, oddly fascinating  Dialect Study.

Complete with map.
Here are all the connections to Mississippi. In case you were wondering.

I needed to be sure my childhood memories of calling doodlebugs from their homes was truth or fiction. Truth!

Now, don't ever ask me whether I'm doing scholarly research. Of course I am. Click that link up there and see if you don't think it's scholarly.
Writing historical fiction for kids requires a lot of research. Promise.

Started Early Took My Dog

Yay! Today's the release day for the latest in this series of mysteries featuring detective Jackson Brodie and very fine writing by Kate Atkinson.
 Janet Maslin reviewed the book last week, but I avoided reading the New York Times review. I prefer to form my own opinions on this one!

As I said in an earlier post here, be sure to start with Book #1.

I've been anticipating this book for over a year. It's been out in England for that long. Can't wait.

FYI: Book 1- Case Histories
        Book 2- One Good Turn
        Book 3- When Will There Be Good News?

Letters of Flannery O’Connor: the Habit of Being

Recently a friend and I wondered together what will happen to the study of history—be it literary or social—with no letters to document what we think of the world. She and I are were letter writers. So it’s probably not much of a stretch for us to bemoan the loss of letters that were a reflection of the times (John and Abigail Adams, etc.) or a commentary on writing.

This conversation sent me right to a fat book sitting on my shelf: the letters of writer Flannery O’Connor. Although there isn’t a lot of mulling on world events, or even local goings-on here, reading about O’Connor’s writing and her editing and submission process makes me think how the more things change, the more they remain the same. (As my grandmother used to say.)

Also noteworthy, Flannery O’Connor was a poor speller, and she knew it. Even if we save our emails forever, there’s not much chance the spelling won’t have beeen corrected. Reading some of this writer’s (and there truly weren’t many) funny, Southern, exaggerated spellings just made her seem like she was somebody you knew well, writing to a friend. And that friend could be you.

So I offer up a few tidbits, written between 1948 up to her death in 1964, back and forth with her agent, publisher, friends, strangers. Straight from O’Connor’s letters:

After submitting her manuscript to a publisher:

“I had a note…asking how the book was coming. This seems to be a question that extends itself over the years.”

Later, upon her publisher re-issuing the novel, asking if there are revisions she’d like to make:

“I can’t even make myself read the thing again. I am just going to say NO there ain’t any. You can’t rewrite something you wrote ten years ago. And there will be no introduction, as I can’t even read the book, I sure can’t write an introduction.”

Remarking on a student’s letter saying she would appreciate it if Miss O’Connor would explain what enlightenment she should get out of the stories assigned by her professor, as she couldn’t read them:

“This is the kind of letter that leaves me beyond exasperation. I finally wrote her a note and said that my expectation of anyone’s getting enlightenment out of them was mighty limited and I’d be glad if she could just enjoy them and not make problems in algebra out of them.”

Of course, the student showed the letter to her professor.

“Apparently they had a big argument about it…I had this same trouble in Texas. Every story is a frog in a bottle to them. I suppose it has to be that way…”

With the absence of TV and internet in my house this week, I’ve been filling my time with reading. I highly recommend this giving up of technology for a few days, though in the interest of full disclosure, I do have an emergency iPhone. I have been checking occasional emails and Facebook posts.

But mostly I’ve been reading and writing. And loving it.

Tales from the Standby Lane

My recent travel adventures have not been noteworthy. No missed flights, no unplanned overnights in exotic locales. Mostly good stories of standing by for flights or pass riding and actually getting where I want to go. It wasn’t always that way. But that’s not this story.

This week’s travel was all good.

My college classmate, letter- (now email) corresponding friend Patty lives in Chicago. Her mother’s delightful abode is in Charlotte, N.C. The perfect halfway point for us. And when an invitation to the Queens University Friends of the Library Book and Author Dinner arrived in Mrs. DeLaney’s mailbox, Patty called.

Our meeting was auspicious on many levels. The 40^th anniversary of an event that Patty’s mom had been instrumental in organizing. Cherry blossoms in bloom for a flower-deprived Chicago dweller. Best of all, a St. Paddy’s Day birthday for one witty, gorgeous, energetic 91-year-old lady!

And the event’s speaker? My Mississippi friend Minrose Gwin, to talk about her novel Queen of Palmyra. Minrose’s book was published last summer to terrific reviews and high praise. Our table mates had all read it, discussed it in book groups, loved it. One said she sat outside the dining room, finishing the last pages before the dinner began because she couldn't put it down. Another felt it was very sad, but so beautifully written she didn't mind. If you've missed this book, this is your reminder: you are missing a real treat!

Before Minrose read (from my favorite part—how did she know?— early in the book, when Florence and her mother make their trip to the bootlegger for two tallboys), she spoke about “voice” in writing. A topic editor Cheryl Klein once remarked is sort of like the air of the story- hard to define, yet necessary. Minrose reflected that voice is located in time and place. So obvious, yet that’s really it, isn’t it.

(That’s why it’s hard to write until you know exactly when and where the tale is set. Something I’m struggling to uncover in a new story. I know where, but when? Harder to pinpoint this time.)

So these Tales from the Standby Lane, are very happy ones.

Unless you count that my seat was 26F, the last seat in front of the lav, in the back. Or that the TSA guy was clueless. And there was no gate available when we landed.

But I’m not complaining. I had my Kindle, my seatmates slept, the flight was on time. And what a treasure waited at the other end!

 Related post: Writing About the 60s

Touch Blue

I love it when a book delivers a little something extra!

I've been following the Story Sleuths' current discussion of Cynthia Lord's book, TOUCH BLUE.  In this this post they write about non-fiction elements in fiction. What the Sleuths are pointing out is how intriguing facts planted seamlessly into a story make a book so much fun that kids don't even realized they've learned something. Unless, of course, they wanted to know that particular fact. Like what are those birds and why do they sit with their wings open to the sun? (Cormorants, drying wings.)

Such a bonus! And such a good thing for a book. And for the lucky kids who read those books.

The Story Sleuths always give me a lot to ponder, as a writer. Like this one, from the author of One Crazy Summer.




Related Post: Cynthia Lord, speaking at the Maryland SCBWI event about the Pluses and Perils of Writing What You Know.
(An event I have very good memories of, since it's where I met my agent!)

Crooked Letter Crooked Letter

I was all set to review this book. I finished it last night, closed it with a big old sigh, remarked to myself-- it was very late at night-- how much I really loved the book. Then this morning, I saw this review:
Tom Franklin: Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter Review :: Books :: Reviews ::


It's really all you need to know about the novel, literary fiction, additional reading choices.
But of course, I'll add my two-cents worth in case you don't feel like doing a lot of clicking and reading.

Most school children should know exactly what the derivation of the title of this book is. That rhyme we all learned: M-i-crooked letter crooked letter- i- crooked letter crooked letter- i- hump back hump back - i.
Right?


So Tom Franklin sets the story in south Mississippi, with such amazingly appropriate characters.
Larry Ott, a sorry character if I ever saw one. Mechanically disinclined.
Larry's automotive-shop owning father, irked by his seat-belt wearing brother-in-law, with his "low sighs, how he'd shut his eyes and shake his head at the idiocy of something. Or someone." Just an all-around unpleasant fellow, in my book.
And of course Silas, the high school jock back in town all these years later. Now a constable with plenty of police work for him to stick his nose in.

Oh, how differently Silas and Larry's story could have turned out. If a mother had made a different choice. If Silas had spoken up. If Larry didn't need a friend, and make all the wrong ones. If I'm making this book sound like a downer, that's wrong. It's a mystery. Detective story. Family saga (though a short one). Southern literary fiction at its best.
Not one unnecessary word in that entire book.
And did I say it's a mystery? Highly recommended.

Now I guess I'll return my copy to the library. But I'll keep my eyes open for something else by Tom Franklin. Great Mississippi writer. Great writer!

Kirkin' o' the Tartans

Now I'll just wager if you saw that in your local newspaper's listing of activities for a Sunday afternoon, you might pass right over it. Or perhaps you'd stop and say Huh? But I'm a bit of a bagpipe freak, so I ripped out the notice and showed up yesterday at the First Presbyterian Church for a kirkin'.

My family has lived in Mississippi for longer than any of us could remember. But as I child, when I asked about our heritage, if the answer wasn't "Virginia," it was Scotch-Irish. I was too young to know or to care what that meant. I assumed it was across an ocean, a country called Scotch-Irish.

Recently, I read Curtis Wilkie's account the history of that immigration, and it cleared things up considerably. In DIXIE, Wilkie theorizes how southerners may have come by their rebellious nature. In Chapter 2, "Natural Rebels," he traces the area's connection to the Scots.

Which is a long way of saying, I now know why I love Scottish bagpipers. It's in my blood.

In fact, there's a clan named for my family: The Russell Clan. We have our own tartan. Who knew? But I saw it on parade yesterday at the Kirkin' or should I say, at the Kirk.
It's that 4th Tartan in line, marching to be Kirked.

Yesterday I learned a Kirk is a church, and the Kirkin' ceremony started during World War II at the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington DC, to honor our comrades in the British Isles.

Here's a clip of these same bagpipers, from a few years ago, at another church. Same music, same ceremony.









And here we all are, among the palm trees, yesterday at the concert they gave outside the church.

Somehow my family must have diverted along the way, married into English, Anglican stock. Because I only know about the Presbyterians and my Scottish connection from what I've read, from friends I attended PYF with because they totally outnumbered us Episcopalians in the tiny towns of the Delta. And their meetings were a lot more fun than ours, though not nearly as much fun as what was going on over at the Baptist or the Methodist youth groups.  But that's another story. And I've digressed, big time, from my love of bagpipes.

If you're a fan, if you've a Scottish bone in your body, maybe you'll happen upon your own bagpipers lining up with tartans, all ready to be Kirked. If so, you're in for a treat.

 (Procession of St. Andrews Pipes and Drums, and tartans, First Presbyterian Church, St. Petersburg, FL)

Related post: A Walk on the Beach