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I had two friends send photos of SHAKEN, as displayed at NCTE.
Which was really kind of them.
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Archive for Shaken
Pausing to Breathe: An Excerpt from SHAKEN
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Nelly instructed Kristy to place her hands on her belly
and focus on the rise and fall with each breath.
“Let yourself get big,” Nelly said.
“So many girls today want to shrink their bellies
down to nothing.
Let yourself get big. Develop those diaphragm muscles.
They will serve you well.”
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I’ve been thinking that I’d like to share another scene from Shaken, but which one? I was unsure until, er, recent events forced my hand. Yesterday and today I’ve been seeing a lot of “just breathe” advice. But how, exactly, does one do that?
In this scene, we see Kristy in art therapy practicing that calming strategy.
To write this scene, I called upon a friend, Erin Svare, who teaches yoga and fitness and women’s health. Erin gave me a lot of the language that I put into Nelly’s mouth.
Two certified art therapists were also hugely helpful for those scenes, “helpful” in that I couldn’t have possibly done it without them. They answered questions, read first drafts, offered comments and encouragement. Thanks again, Tracy Gilbert and Maria Lupo, for the important work that you do — and for sharing a small piece of that with me.
SETTING THE SCENE: It is late in the book, Kristy is recovering from post-concussion syndrome, and things are looking up. She meets with Nelly, her art therapist, for their penultimate session, which includes watercolors, breathing exercises, and goldfish.
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It was one of those times with Nelly when it didn’t feel like therapy at all. Truthfully, it rarely did. Maybe that was another one of Nelly’s tricks? Today was their ninth appointment, and next to last. Something about insurance only paying for ten. Nelly gave Kristy a few prompts and Kristy just . . . drew. Painted, actually, with watercolors, which she enjoyed. Nelly didn’t try to interpret the meaning of Kristy’s pictures. She never did. It wasn’t like that. Kristy just felt chill. Relaxed and calm. She found that she liked making art—so long as she didn’t worry if it was “good” or not— and the creative time helped her think about things. Strange how that worked.
Sometimes she talked about those thoughts with Nelly, and other times Kristy just turned them over in her mind: like a spade digging into the moist earth.
“I think you are doing very well,” Nelly said toward the end of the session, bracelets jangling, as she and Kristy put away the art supplies.
Kristy didn’t understand at first. She studied her painting and made a face. “Very well” seemed like a wild exaggeration. Nelly had asked her to draw herself picking apples from a tree. So Kristy did. It wasn’t anything special. In the image, Kristy stood on a ladder, reaching up and collecting the apples that were red and ripe. At the last minute, Kristy included Jimbo in the picture holding the ladder steady, and Binny, who was saying in a word balloon: “I’ll make a pie!”
“I guess it’s okay,” Kristy said. “I’m not very good at people.”
“I don’t mean your artwork—which is beautiful, by the way, and happy—I mean you.”
“I think so, yes,” Kristy agreed. “My headaches have mostly gone away. I still get anxious sometimes.” “That might always be true,” Nelly advised. “This life comes with stress. Tell you what. Let’s practice your breathing.”
“Again?” Kristy asked, but was already eagerly rolling out an exercise mat. She lay down on her back. “Practice makes perfect,” Nelly said.
“Well, actually, no,” Kristy contended, propping herself up on an elbow. “Coach Izzy, my school soccer coach, she’s a stickler for technique. She says that if you practice the wrong way, then you are just hard-wiring those mistakes into your muscle memory. She says, ‘Perfect practice makes perfect.’”
“Ah, gotcha,” Nelly replied. “Coach Izzy sounds like she’s on the ball.”
Nelly instructed Kristy to place her hands on her belly and focus on the rise and fall with each breath. “Let yourself get big,” Nelly said. “So many girls today want to shrink their bellies down to nothing. Let yourself get big. Develop those diaphragm muscles. They will serve you well.”
Nelly continued talking in a soothing tone. “You know that feeling when you can’t catch your breath? When your breathing gets shallow, high in the chest? Those are our emergency breathing muscles.”
“Panic attacks,” Kristy said. “I feel like I’m drowning in air when that happens.”
“It’s a scary feeling,” Nelly said. “That’s why we’re practicing this now. Belly breathing is a tool, Kristy. A tool that is always with us—we just have to remember to use it. Belly breathing calms the nervous system, slows the heartbeat, and primes the body for work. When you feel those anxiety triggers coming along, breathing can help you cope.”
Kristy murmured, relaxed and entranced. Eyes closed, ears listening, heart open.
“We know that great athletes in every sport have an ability to tune out the noise. They eliminate the distractions. They silence the negative self-talk in their own heads,” Nelly said. “I’ve worked with athletes right here in this office. Believe me, it works.”
She reviewed with Kristy a strategy called equal parts breath. “Inhale to the count of four, pause, exhale to the count of four, pause.”
Kristy practiced counting, imagined a box with four numbered corners and a little ball bouncing from corner to corner. “Now move your hands and feel how your rib cage widens and narrows. That’s right, put your hands right there. Your body is settling,” Nelly said. “Later you can lengthen your breath. Work up to a count of six, or eight. After more practice, try to go a little longer on the exhale. In for four, out for six.”
“It’s a nice distraction,” Kristy observed.
“Yes,” Nelly said with a light laugh. “You are focused on counting, being in your body. The outside noise goes away. You are in the present moment. Practice that every day and you are setting yourself up for success. The same way a basketball player practices foul shots. Then during the game, with all that outside pressure, she can calmly knock down those shots. Breathing is a tool you can access when you face stressful situations.”
“I like it,” Kristy said. “Makes sense.”
They moved to the leather chairs and grabbed handfuls of Goldfish from a bowl on the table. The perfect snack food, in Kristy’s opinion. The size, the little hollow part in the middle, the zesty flavor. What more could anyone want?
Kristy’s Concussion: A Scene from My New Novel, SHAKEN: Megan Rapinoe and a Knife
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Here’s a paragraph and then a quick scene that takes place soon after Kristy suffers a concussion while playing soccer. It’s the “inciting event” that propels the novel forward.
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Light breaks through the curtains, bringing with it a sharp pain to her forehead. Kristy imagines a jagged crack running from eyebrow to hairline. She can’t bear to call out her mother’s name. So she waits, eyes squeezed shut, pillow over her face, like an aphid on the underside of a leaf. A black dot of silence. She’ll be better soon. As good as new. Running the field and scoring goals. This is the worst of it. Yes, she tells Megan Rapinoe, who is staring back at Kristy from a soccer poster on the wall, this is the very worst.
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It was the first time Kristy was alone for the day in an empty house. No problem. She’d just take it slow, recover.
That was the word, over and over, recover.
“That’s your job now,” her father advised. “Just get better, a little bit better each day.”
Sure. Okay.
But how do you do that when your head feels like it’s covered with bubble wrap? When your brain doesn’t feel right? When it hurts to think? Every time Kristy turned her head, it took an extra second for her eyes to focus. For a moment, it’s just blur.
Kristy padded softly downstairs, moved into the kitchen, slid two pieces of cinnamon raisin bread into the toaster. The room smelled like coffee and eggs and it turned her stomach. There were a few dishes in the sink and for some reason this unsettled her. But why? Who cares? She stood by the counter holding a knife.
Time passed. She blinked. Looked down.
A knife was in her right hand.
There was a window above the sink overlooking the backyard. Trees, grass, the deck. Leaves beginning to change colors, drop down to the ground. No action at the bird feeder. It was empty, anyway. No seed.
So this was what it was like to stay home on a school day. For two weeks straight. The big echoing house. The world of nothingness outside. A voice in her head asked, Is it empty, or full of nothing?
Oh, how very zen.
Kristy noticed that the faucet was running. She shut it off.
Why was a knife in her right hand?
The smell of cinnamon. And something else—a burnt, bitter aroma. Kristy remembered the toaster, the toast, the butter, and the reason for the knife. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Didn’t bother, even, to remove the blackened bread from the toaster. It could wait. It could all wait. She placed the butter knife on the counter and headed back upstairs. The bed beckoned.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow will be better.
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PUB DAY in the ADKs: “Shaken” Now Available!
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PUB DAY in the ADKs!
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Yes, I’m on vacation with a place on Rainbow Lake for two full weeks. Amazing.
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Today this book sees the world, and here I am reminded that the rocks, the air, the water, and the trees don’t care.
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It is only right that this is so.
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I know I’ve been a lot lately with the publishing news. I promise, this is my last new book of 2024. Thank you to anyone who picks up Kristy’s story, who places it (cover out!) on a bookshelf, hands it to a young person (grades 4-8), reads it — while the world shrugs with benign indifference.
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I think I’ll get out on the water today and count my blessings.
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Good News: The 2nd Review for SHAKEN Is Pretty Fabulous, Too!
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I’m happy with this new review for Shaken from the Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books (BCCB). Here’s a snip, minus the plot outline — Kristy, a 7th grade soccer star, suffers from the effects of a serious concussion — since BCCB asks authors not to post full reviews:
“Preller’s writing is rife with strong metaphors and powerfully realistic characters, making a surprisingly gripping story despite a relatively staid plot that focuses on a girl slowly learning a new way to be healthy. As Kristy works through the pressure that she’s put on herself (and the pressure coming from her parents and older teammates) to excel, she learns how to stand up for her own needs and how to identify which of her skills are good for her, like asking for help without apologies, and which aren’t, like disassociating through difficult times. When she finally returns to the soccer field, it’s alone, to do drills and test her love for the game, which feels even more triumphant than the early scenes in front of cheering fans.”
As a reminder, here’s a snippet from last week’s review from Kirkus:
“Preller’s careful pacing matches the fuzziness and slow healing of Kristy’s brain, introducing readers to the realities of the pain, loss, and feelings of isolation that dedicated athletes experience when they can no longer play. The somber tone of the story is lightened by the presence of two minor characters who bring levity and humor. Strong themes of healing (both physical and emotional), family, and friendship abound. An introspective and realistic coming-of-age story about rediscovering oneself. (Fiction. 9-13)
COMING on SEPTEMBER 10th!
