Archive for January 10, 2011

Link: A Poem from Kate Messner

I hope author Kate Messner doesn’t get mad at me for this. She looks mean and tough . . .

and I sure don’t want to tangle with her. Just look at those teeth!

Fierce.

But on her live journal Kate shared a pretty great response to the events today in San Diego, where the ALA hands out all the big awards for the year’s best books.

I’ve always had mixed feelings about the season’s emphasis on winners. Yet I do like the conversations about books that spring from the awards process, the passionate recommendations, the undiscovered titles that are suggested, then devoured, and loved (or hated!). To me, that’s easily the best thing about these awards, that the process helps shine a light on many deserving books. A single winner? Shrug. Give me a Top Ten any day of the week.

Even so: Congratulations, winners. Thanks for writing those books.

To read Kate’s poem, What Happened To Your Book Today,” click here. To be honest, I don’t know much about Kate. She’s not my friend or anything. We’ve never met. But I’ve kept a link to her blog on the trusty blogroll, because I like her spirit, and I’ve had The Brilliant Fall of Gianna Z on my reading list for some time.

Below, here’s just a few sample lines from the poem:

Somewhere, a kid who has never read a whole book on his own

(Really. Not even one.)

picked up yours and turned a page.

And then another.

And then one more.

And it was pretty cool, turns out.

He brought it back – huge smile on his face –

(and I mean huge)

And he read that, too.

Somewhere, a teenager who thought she was alone

Opened your pages and discovered she’s not.

And somewhere, somebody who thought about giving up

will keep on trying,

keep on hoping.

Because of that book you wrote.

It’s Up: The New FATHERS READ Blog

I know that for children’s book lovers, today is all about the ALA Youth Media Awards — and I guess the announcements are coming fast and furious right this moment.

Today is also the day I launched the new Fathers Read blog.

Please check it out. Bookmark it. Spread the word. Thanks.

Fan Mail Wednesday #105 (Thursday Edition)

Here’s one . . .

I replied:

Hey, Kyle.

Thanks for your kind letter. I’m glad that . . .

Wait. You have a favorite condiment? And it’s . . . ketchup?

Really?

I’m worried that you might have rushed into this, Kyle. There’s a lot of condiments to consider. Think about it: Salt! How do you beat salt? Let’s review the basics. According to the Posh Gourmet, a condiment “can be salty, spicy, or savory and may be in the form of a relish, sauce, or mixtures of herbs and spices.”

There’s relish, mayonnaise, croutons, horseradish, baco bits, jalapeno, chutney, and so much more. That’s not counting the various sauces out there, from soy to tabasco to au jus. Or even everyday dressings, like thousand island or tahini. Not to mention the madcap craziness of nutella or vegemite.

No, favorite condiment is a huge decision. Not something you want to take lightly.

I’m not criticizing you, Kyle. I’m sure you’re a decent human being. But ketchup? Please ponder more deeply.

Anyway, I may have possibly gone off on a slight tangent. My apologies. Thanks for your ideas for future books. As you probably know, I like to try different kinds of writing, from picture book to young adult, but so far I haven’t done much of anything with monsters or aliens. That may change — in a peculiar way — with the book I’m currently writing. I’d love to tell you about it, but I have a rule about these things: Don’t talk about books until the first draft is finished.

This might sound strange, but I always worry if I’ve got another book left in me. Even when I start strong — and I usually don’t — I’m never 100% confident that I’ll finish it. That those scribbled words in a composition notebook will actually turn out to become a real book. I think the worst thing I can possibly do is to TALK about a book that isn’t finished; it puts the jinx on it. So though my next book doesn’t have monsters or aliens, there will definitely be a reanimated corpse or two. That’s all I can tell you so far.

Thanks for writing to me. My best,

JP

Advice for Children’s Book Writers

I published my first children’s book in 1986, back when the Mets won their last World Series. So from time to time, perfect strangers will assume that I know my way around the block. They ask for directions, “Do you have any advice for writers?”

It’s a question that’s always stumped me. I don’t feel like Moses coming down from the mountaintop, tablets in hand –- it’s not a role that suits me — and most of the things I have to say are obvious and have already been said. To wit: reading helps, and writing is also essential.

(It is amazing to me, by the way, how many people want to be authors before they become writers.)

Upon reflection, I can point to one practical activity that’s been absolutely critical to my work as a children’s author: I spend time in classrooms. Not as a visiting author, but as an observer. I sit in the back, out of the spotlight, and watch.

So that’s my advice. Contact a local school, explain yourself, try to find a teacher who would be willing to allow you into the classroom. You might find some resistance, but I’ve discovered that in every school there’s going to be a teacher who loves books, and writers, and believes in an open classroom. Most folks are very happy to share their world if you approach them in the right way.

Even if your book is not set within five miles of a classroom, it’s a world worth knowing –- because that’s where kids live, six hours a day, five days a week, ten months of the year.

In the best arrangements, I’ve found teachers who have let me come and go as I pleased. Maybe I won’t show up for three weeks, maybe I’ll come and stay for half an hour, or half a day. I am always respectful that I am in their domain, and aim for invisibility. In short order, the students forget that I am present –- and busily get on with the business of being completely themselves. Children in the wild. Which is exactly what I’m after.

Speaking of that, I’ve also learned that children are more themselves outside of the classroom. It’s beneficial to spend time in the cafeteria, the school bus, or outside during recess. I’ve set many, many scenes out on the playground.

For me, I usually begin with a blank notebook -– figuratively and literally. I’m not looking for anything particular, beyond what’s real for these kids. That’s what writing for children comes down to, I think. You have to know their world.

In recent years, I’ve hung out a bit in fifth-grade classrooms. I noticed the way one girl –- frowning and alone — set herself apart during P.E. There was a red circle on the floor and the teacher asked the kids to sit inside it. Everyone did except for this one girl, who sat down outside it, the tip of her foot just touching the line. I’ve seen the way a teacher’s eyes rolled in her head when, in the middle of a lesson, a boy stood up to sharpen his pencils: Whirrrr, whirrr, whirrrr. I’ve learned how kids are disciplined during recess, where in one school they were forced to stand by “the wall.” The punishment: watching everyone else run and play. All of those observations informed my book, Along Came Spider.  Currently I’m trying to get my foot into the door of a particular Middle School that’s not in my local community. I want something different, with a more diverse population. How is it going to help my next book? No idea. But at the very least, I know it will help get those heavy, dull gears in my head rolling again.

Mostly, it’s been a accumulation of details, little truths, seeds. And what happens for me –- what always happens –- is that I begin to see the possibilities for story. I get inspired. And my blank notebook fills with words.

New Beginnings

I love the idea of a new year, of turning the page and fresh beginnings, old failures pushed away and forgotten, a clean slate, room with space enough for wild new hope to grow.

Happy new year everybody.

I want to post about my 2011 Word of the Year — authentic — but don’t have time to get to it today. But that focus, those thoughts, really do connect to today’s post. I’m writing to share a really tremendous review of Bystander that I found on the blog, Teen Book Discussion . . . All Grown Up. It was almost spooky reading it, in a Twilight Zone kind of way, because it’s as if the reviewer, Brandy, climbed into my head and absolutely understood why I wrote the book the way I did.

It’s just so validating to have someone get out of a book what you, as the author, think you put into it. Click here to read the whole dang review.

The money quote:

This is the most realistic look at middle-school bullying I’ve read. It’s not a flattering portrait, but it is realistic, and I think that’s important. By “realistic,” I mean that the kids mock the “don’t be a bully” assembly; our hero admits that the kid being bullied sort of asks for it, even though that doesn’t make it right; school administration talks a good game but ultimately the bullying persists; in the end, the bully is still a bully, he’s just moved on to different targets. Because of its realism, I think this would make a great book for discussion and I’d love to see it replace the hokey Revealers that’s currently the 7th grade Required Summer Reading book. Unfortunately, because of its realism, I don’t think that will happen — much better to leave kids with the idea that three outcasts can write letters to their classmates about being bullied and not be mercilessly teased for it, or that lots of people sharing their stories of being bullied will make the bullies have this epiphany and suddenly become choir boys. Ahem.