I’m so honored that DEADWOOD has made it to the second and final voting round of the 2015 SCBWI Crystal Kite Awards. The SCBWI is the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and I’m in the Atlantic division (Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, Washington DC, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland). The Crystal Kites are member-voted awards, and I’m thankful for the support of my SCBWI peers.
Books for children are the ones most likely to be challenged based on content. If parents are to decide for their children which books are appropriate, that means that “inappropriate” books can and should be published so all parents have that choice.
While everyone in the Northeast is glued to weather reports, it’s the perfect time to announce that my weather-prognosticating picture book will be released in 2016 by Sterling Children’s Books. Here’s the announcement from today’s Publishers Marketplace:
There are no snow storms in my book — Mira Tells the Future is a summery story about a young would-be boardwalk fortuneteller who saves her beach town by using meteorology, instead of clairvoyance, to predict the weather. I’ve had such fun working with my wonderful editor Zaneta Jung on this book, and I can’t wait to see what an illustrator does with it. Thanks always to my agent, Kathleen Rushall, who saw Mira’s potential — I suspect she has a crystal ball of her own.
Think warm thoughts, everyone!
I’m working on a new novel, one that I have outlined in a synopsis but no further. I have a clear creative vision, but not a clear outline. I have novels that have been waylaid in the process of outlining, where I couldn’t solve a plot point and then the whole thing fell apart. As much as outlines have helped me in the past, this time I’m using the Headlight Method, which I first learned of in James Scott Bell’s indispensable reference, Plot & Structure.
E.L. Doctorow is credited with the saying, “Writing is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as the headlights, but you make the whole trip that way.”
Neither pantser nor plotter am I, but something between. I need to see the next step, but if I have to have every detail done, I will never be done.
I spent far too long making a new header illustration for my site. I was aiming for a more flexible design that works for both middle grade and picture book writing. The color palette was inspired by my writer friend Colby Marshall. Colby has color-grapheme synthesia, like the main character of her much-praised new thriller Color Blind. While Dr. Jenna Ramey is a forensic psychiatrist who uses her unique way of interpreting the world to help solve crimes, Colby was kind enough to answer me when I demanded to know what color I am. She said periwinkle, and that color dominated this twilight design.
Note that the trees in the design are still American beeches — the same kind of tree that stars in Deadwood, although these are a little more at peace. Please let me know what you think.
I spent the day cleaning the house. This one:
Earlier this month I visited Tyler Arboretum in Media, PA, and acquired a new hobby. I was with my kids so I spent nearly as much time in the gift shop as in the fabulous treehouses, and I picked up a copy of Big Trees of Pennsylvania. Tyler Arboretum is home to quit a few Champion Trees — the largest of their kind in Pennsylvania, including one of the largest PA trees of any kind — a mammoth tulip poplar (Liriondendron tulipifera) 133 feet tall.
I missed that tree while climbing Tyler’s gorgeous treehouses and coaxing my youngest daughter to keep walking, but now I’m planning to visit and document more of Pennsylvania’s biggest trees, as tracked by PAbigtrees.com.
What makes a Champion Tree? Trees are tracked by species and accrue points as follows:
Trunk circumference: Measured 4.5 feed about the ground level, one point accorded per inch.
Height: One point per foot, measured with a clinometer, hand level, or range finder.
Crown spread: 1/4 point per foot of the average between the smallest and widest crown spread.
It’s hard to recognize a Champion just by looking because they are species-specific. The largest tree in Pennsylvania overall is a Mercersburg American Sycamore (Plantanus occidentalis) with a whopping 529 points, but the largest crabapple is only 84. So I’m not going to be identifying them, unless I get extremely lucky, but looking at them in their environment.
Visit my tree blog, treeandtwig.tumblr.com for:
Sometimes both writers and readers forget that they and their books are not one and the same.
I put a lot of myself into the books I write. The characters come out of my head — the protagonists, antagonists, comic relief, parents good and bad, the passerby on the street who only has one line. But they are not me.
The dialogue comes from my head — philosophizing, wisecracking, both sides of an argument. But it’s not what I would say.
The writing, rewriting, querying, submission, editing, and marketing of a book takes a lot of time, emotion, and thought. There is a lot of my life and myself in my books. I have a creative vision, and it comes out in my books. But they are not me.
Deadwood, my middle-grade mystery, takes place in a diverse town, like communities I based it on and where I’ve always lived. Culture is not central to the story, which is about two seventh graders who must lift a curse on a tree to save their town from growing disaster, but I wanted to include diverse characters to reflect the reality I pictured.
Still, I was intimidated about writing someone from another culture, so I decided to hedge a little. When I began the novel, the main character of Martin had a Puerto Rican dad but was raised by his white mother and grandmother. I thought if he was raised in my own culture, I had the right to write him.
The story is not about the ethnic background, and it’s been said that Martin “just happens to be” Puerto Rican. But it didn’t just happen to him, just as my other main character, Hannah, doesn’t “just happen to be” white. I decided that these would be the characters, and I grew their voices, personalities, and backgrounds. It didn’t just happen.