How to Keep From Being Influenced By Other Writers

Young Writer Writes: How do you end up creating an entirely new idea without basing the story off of any of the other books you have read?

If you steal from one author it's plagiarism; if you steal from many it's research.--Wilson Mizner 

The Writer’s Response: To put it bluntly, you can't. 

 We are all influenced by other writers. I learned most of what I know about writing by reading. Reading is like taking a private workshop with a master of the craft at minimal cost. My best advice is to read widely; that way, you're less likely to steal too much from any one person.

Don’t worry so much about coming up with a brand new idea. It’s been said that there are no new ideas—that all stories fall into a limited number of standard categories. Fear not! If you give two writers the same idea, they will write entirely different stories. Each writer brings to the page her own database of experience. Nobody has the exact same life experience as you do—they’ve not been the places you’ve been, met the people you’ve met. Even if they had, they would not view them through your unique filter. Writers are constantly gathering material for story just by living their lives.

Make each idea your own by incorporating your own experiences into the writing of it.

When I read another writer with a strong voice, that voice tends to leak into my own work. The best defense against that is writing practice. All artists do this--there is no substitute for practice. The more you write, the more likely you are to develop your own voice. Our first novels tend to be derivative; subsequent novels become more and more our own. 

When Readers Hate Your Books

I often get emails from people who like my books. It’s still a thrill, even  with six books in print. Hey, I say to myself, this person isn’t even related to me—in fact, he lives three states away—and he likes my book!

Anyone who takes the time to thank an author deserves a special place in heaven. We are needy people with fragile egos (well, most of us) and sometimes that email from a fan is just what we need to keep going when the muse is slacking and the words won’t come; when we find our books on the clearance table and our agents don't return your calls. Opportunities for humiliation are legion. Kind words are treasured up against those days.

My favorite emails are from those who tell me my books made them into pleasure readers. How cool is that? Because for me the notion of going through life without books is horrifying. Because books changed my life.

Sometimes readers will write to alert me to errors in a book. For example, "I’ve noticed that Leesha has different colored eyes in each book. What gives?" Or—“what’s up with the two Christmases in one year?” If the error is serious enough, my publisher can correct it when the book goes back to print.

Readers email comments about what they especially liked (Han is SO hot!) or concrete suggestions about what I could have done differently, e.g. Why did you kill off my favorite character? (or, conversely, why didn’t you kill off more people?)  Or, Raisa should dump Nightwalker.

They’ll tell me that the love scene at the end of the book should have been a lot longer. Or that I should have put in some dragons.

While I can't go back and change the book in print, specific feedback might give me guidance for future books. Of course, some people tell me just what they think should happen in that next book.

But sometimes I get emails from people who basically say, I read your latest book and it sucked. Or--I liked your old series but I don't like your new series. Or--I read your new series and liked it, but when I went back and read your old series, it sucked.

It would be easier if they at least agreed on which books suck and which don’t.

I’m not talking about reviews. Negative reviews can be painful, but at least they serve a purpose. Reviews are intended to help readers find books they might like and avoid the ones they won’t. A public service of sorts.

I'm never sure what I'm supposed to do with this sort of big-bore, non-specific negative feedback. I don’t expect everyone to like my books, but this is like telling someone her child is ugly and stupid, too.

I mean, it’s not like there’s gonna be a do-over.

Should I say I'm sorry? Promise never to write a crappy book again? Get all defensive and tell them that if they think it's easy to write a book, mr. smarty-pants, they should try it themselves? Look them up on Goodreads to see if they give everyone one-star reviews? Google the sender's name to try to figure out it’s really Harold Gallagher from third grade who always hated you?

Hit delete, eat chocolate and drink hard liquor?

Anyone?

The Secret Lives of Fantasy Writers

Many people think of the lives of writers as glamorous and exciting, flitting from book launch to movie premiere, and traveling to exotic locales for research purposes. We work in our pajamas, while the afternoons away in coffee houses, and hang with A-list folks like bookstore owners, teachers, and librarians.
Maybe you think that’s the reason that your favorite author hasn’t finished the sequel you’ve been dying to read.
Real or not real?
I’m here to tell you that authors work very, very hard. Yes, they do. In the interest of setting the record straight, I thought I would share some of the ways we fantasy authors spend our time.


Keeping up to date on the literature in our chosen genre.

Conducting dangerous field research into the habits of magical creatures.

 Sometimes we interview magically-gifted individuals

Or consult experts in period weaponry

torture devices

and medieval prisons.

(Don’t let that brilliant smile fool you—it was terrifying.)

Sure, from time to time we may stay a few days in a castle,

 but do note that we’re hard at work interviewing the staff to gather real-life stories and authentic gossip, what we novelists call “color.”

We often seek mentorship from other authors, hoping their success might rub off on us.

And engage in secret writerly rituals

like obsessively checking our Amazon ratings and setting fire to books that are more popular than ours.

After all of that effort, sometimes an intervention is necessary. This usually involves festive beverages.

All in all, it's an arduous life!

The New England SCBWI Conference or Why Writing is Like Dying

I spent the weekend at the awesome New England SCBWI conference. Mostly fielding reactions like, “You drove ALL the way from OHIO? Don’t they have conferences in Ohio?” (Typical East Coast attitude.)
It was rather rash. You see, eleven hours in the car didn’t sound so bad three months ago, at registration time. It looked kind of misty and romantic, like a far-away, blurry photograph of yourself. I thought, “Road trip! I’ll be driving through the Berkshires in May; how lovely!” And it IS lovely. But still a long way. Even with the Rent soundtrack blasting through the speakers.
I ran into Paula Kay McLaughlin at the luncheon buffet. She lives in Connecticut, but I first met her at the Central Ohio SCBWI conference, where she was busy explaining why she’d driven all the way from Connecticut to Ohio for a conference. “Don’t they have conferences in Connecticut?”
This is Kindling Words East territory, so of course I saw lot of my writing buds from there, including Kathleen Blasi, Sibby Falk, and Toni Buzzeo. Some of us still smell like woodsmoke. Kathleen and Sibby and I celebrated by getting lost in the twisting roads surrounding the Fitchburg Courtyard by Marriott. As Sibby said, “Lock the doors! I think I hear the banjos starting up.”
Here are Carolyn Scoppettone, Libby, and Kathleen in happier times.

I finally met online friends Jo Knowles and Stacy DeKeyser in person—yay! They were both on faculty for the conference.
Made lots of new friends at dinner Friday night

and rubbed shoulders with Cindy Lord at dinner Saturday night. Maybe some of her Newbury-worthiness will rub off on me.

Lest you think I spent my entire time eating, Cynthia Leitich-Smith’s keynote was incredible. That girl has the Native-American equivalent of chutzpah. She told the story of her journey into print. She was living in Chicago and working as a lawyer when an epiphany hit—she wanted to be a children’s writer. At this point she had absolutely nothing on the page. So she and her husband both quit their jobs and moved to Austin. Two years later, Cynthia published her first book.
Cynthia and I put our heads together after her interview on Sunday. Actually, I was hoping some of her chutzpah would rub off on me.

In Liza Ketcham’s Dialogue workshop, we organized into groups of three and wrote a scene together, each contributing a character that was voiced by another group member. Our group ended up crafting a scene involving a wizard, a gossip girl, and an eleven-year-old boy with a disabled brother. I came away convinced that I am unlikely to survive a collaboration.
I also attended the presentation on school visits offered by Cindy Lord and Toni Buzzeo. Cindy had great suggestions for dealing with teens reluctant to share their work. And Toni’s strategies for managing active children in the classroom were golden. Let me tell you, anyone who acts up in Toni’s workshops has no idea what he’s in for.

When the conference was over, the hotel emptied out quickly. I stayed overnight so I could leave early in the morning. Still resonating from our comingled spirits, I sat in my hotel room and drank wine and wrote. As my husband would say, something I could easily do at home.
And, maybe it was weariness, or the wine, but it occurred to me that writing is like dying—in the end we are always alone with that page. But our writer and illustrator friends are like a choir of angels, singing us into heaven.

Hard Words

This weekend I’m thrilled to be at Kindling Words, a retreat for published authors, illustrators, and editors in Essex Junction, Vt. Nancy Werlin is leader of our author strand, and last night the noted author and illustrator Ashley Bryan was our keynote speaker.
Mr. Bryan read poetry, particularly some pieces by African-American poets. He read a poem by Eloise Greenfield, from her book, Honey I Love and Other Love Poems. I didn’t catch the title, but the gist of the poem was, I bought some candy, and now it’s gone, I built a sand castle, and now it’s gone, I wrote I poem and I still have that!
It reminded me of an epiphany I had recently when we visited the Morse Museum in Winter Park, FL. The Morse houses the country’s largest collection of Tiffany art glass and paintings.
Now, I’ll tell you right now—I’m into gaudy. And I mean gaudy in a good way. Those brilliant, layered, leaded, folded, enameled, iridescent glassworks give me goose-bumps. Not to mention the jewelry that grabs you by the throat and makes you take notice. I also love the idea that everyday objects can and should be beautiful, that all art shouldn’t be sequestered away in museums where you can’t get at it when you need the lift that fabulous art and design can provide.
There were photographs of interiors of homes Tiffany designed and decorated, including commissioned works as well as the family mansion in New York City and his estate, Laurelton, on Long Island. Some of the rooms were too busy to sleep in, but there was extravagant attention to detail.
The sad thing is, most of those buildings have since been burned or demolished. Much of the artwork at the Morse was rescued from torn down homes, churches, and public buildings.
And I was struck by the ephemeral nature of beautiful things, natural and man-made. Of course, there are beautiful natural and man-made wonders thousands and millions of years old. But when beautiful buildings and natural wonders get in the way of what we call “progress,” we tear them down. Hurricanes come through, and knock them down.
We writers deal with intangibles. Most people would consider words to be less substantial, say, than marble pillars. But both words and music are durable. They can be captured and preserved in myriad ways (more ways all the time).
That’s the wonder of great books and beautiful music: they can create beautiful imagery over and over again in the minds and hearts of people around the world. Of all the arts, they are renewable. The summer night or the broken panel of glass can’t be retrieved, but they can be recreated in the mind through music and prose. We can enter the garden any time we want by turning the page.

The Difference Between Writers and Engineers

I recently travelled with my husband to an aerospace meeting in Orlando as an “accompanying person.” This is the new politically correct term for what used to be called “spouses” or even “wives.”
This prompted my agent to ask whether I could be both an “accompanying person” and an “interesting person” (see previous post.) And I said, yes, of course, I’ve always been good at multi-tasking.
I attended the “accompanying person” breakfast, which was also crashed by a few savvy actual meeting participants. I soon became convinced that it is far better to be an “accompanying person” than an participant in the conference. There are none of those pesky meetings to attend nor presentations to deliver. No need to feel guilty about sitting in the hot tub at mid-day. No need to—gasp—put on dressy clothes in the Florida heat.


Workspace Provided for Accompanying Persons

Note to readers, agents and editors: I was, of course, working—writing and revising—the whole entire time.
Disclaimer: The following are my random, unscientific, oversimplified and probably totally skewed observations.

The aerospace meeting had a very different feel from the writers’ conferences I frequent. For one thing, most of the attendees wore shirts and ties and even suits and sports coats. Even the graduate students wore jackets. Fortunately, they were mostly men.
Dress at writers’ conferences is difficult to describe. People who commute from their kitchen tables to their dens are used to being comfortable.
Most neither need nor desire “business attire” nor would they put it on without a gun to their heads. Writer attire varies from Bohemian to bead-and-sequin extravagance, from punk and emo to retro hippie, from cutting-edge fashionable to suburban casual, from sweats and slippers to late thrift shop grunge.
Which is fine with me.
My view: It’s tough enough to be a writer without being required to wear neckties or hosiery.
As noted above, the engineers were mostly men. Writing conference attendees are of mixed gender except that conferences for children’s writers seem to attract a larger share of women.
During the aero conference, the food court at the hotel was packed each morning at 7 a.m. by conference attendees seeking breakfast before the 8 a.m. start time.
My experience has been that writers tend to slope in late, blinking like owls, with gigantic cups of coffee in their hands. So this is what 8 a.m. looks like.
One thing writers and engineers have in common—they tote around notebook computers.
I suspect that most of the engineers have good-paying jobs with benefits. Most writers long for good-paying jobs with benefits. Or spouses/accompanying persons with good paying jobs with benefits.
It might be interesting to plan joint right brain/left brain conferences for writers and engineers, complete with singles mixers for the unattached.

Never Good Enough

When I was in Florida recently, I visited the Charles Hosmer Morse Museum in Winter Park. It houses the largest collection of Tiffany art in the world. My husband is a stained glass artist, and we’ve been fans of Tiffany for years.
There was a display at the Morse focusing on Tiffany the artist and his life. Included in the exhibits was Tiffany’s “sketchbook” from his first visit to Europe in 1865 when he was sixteen. Titled, “My First Visit to Europe,” it contained beautiful pencil sketches of such scenes as “Arab with Reed Instrument,” “The Baths of Caracalla—Rome” and “A Street in Chester, England.”
Let me repeat—the boy was sixteen. Maybe seventeen.
I always get depressed when I see someone else’s finely-crafted journal or scrapbook. I can create images with words—period. And never perfect the first time. If ever.
My mother-in-law used to create these beautiful scrapbooks with photographs and hand-drawings and calligraphy and give them out to family members and friends. My friend Jan is a talented writer, artist, and papermaker, and her journals are exquisite records of her life.
Me, I have journal envy. My handwriting is abysmal, I can’t write in a straight line, and only the advent of computers saved me from a lifetime of working with stencils. (I bet about half of you don’t even know what stencils are).
Jan gave me this beautifully-crafted journal with handmade paper. And I’ve yet to write anything in it. Nothing ever seems good enough. I’ll think, “This is a really beautiful journal, and I don’t want to waste it with inadequate and poorly-chosen words.”
So it never gets written in.
I so have to get over this. I so deserve to write in a beautiful journal, right? Right.
So I went into the museum gift shop, and they had beautiful blank journals with Tiffany’s autumn vine window on the cover. They were carefully hand-stitched, with creamy, thick pages that would soak up the ink. So I bought one, saying to myself, You are going to write in this.

Here is what I would like to say: And that’s just what I did. In fact, the essay you’re reading right now was written in that book I bought at the gift shop.
But, no. I lied. I wrote this on the computer so it’d be easy to edit. Multiple times.

Sigh. Still not good enough…

Resolution 2009

I've never been good about the due diligence involved in having a life. By that I mean those boring, detail-oriented maintenance things that have to be done over and over and that you never get credit for. No one will ever walk into my house and say, “Whoa!! This place is staggeringly clean!” Or check out my desk and say, “How do you keep things so organized and tidy?”

            I have the labeled file folders, I just don’t always put anything into them.

            Here’s another example. I love gardening. I love picking out cool plants at the garden store and shoehorning them into my yard. I plant perennials, which are about as low-maintenance as gardening gets. But I don’t do the lift and divide thing and the thinning out and weeding thing and the clip off the spent blooms thing. So my garden is a chaotic battleground—a survival of the fittest. Usually weeds.

 

See? I have the theory down. I just can’t seem to fit the process into my life. Or don’t want to.

I think of myself as an idea person. I’ve mastered the use of the matrimonial “we.” Like, “Why don’t we plan a trip to Australia?” Or, “Why don’t we invest in an index fund?” Or, “Why don’t we build a sunroom?” And then I wait, hoping that my long-suffering spouse will take on the project. And he usually does.

He’s really good at it, and I know my limitations.

            That said, there are many maintenance tasks that go along with writing. An investment of time can both improve your writing and make your writing life more successful. Examples include reading about craft and the business of writing, planning projects before the launch, developing and honing computer skills, and keeping good records, financial and otherwise. It’s also important to maintain your blog, update your Website in a timely manner and network with other writers, librarians, teachers, and publishing people. Not to mention reading voraciously in the genre you’re working in.

            Mind, sometimes writers use those kinds of maintenance tasks to avoid writing altogether. They are so busy picking out wallpaper for the writing studio, reading books on craft and attending workshops that they never actually get down to business.

Not me, not usually. As soon as I finish one writing project I tend to charge headlong into the next, ready or not. I blame this on habits forged during a lifetime of working two full-time jobs and raising and neglecting children. Have a minute? Write a page or two.

In May I quit my day job. I’m still trying to re-allocate my time, to get over the notion that I have to write every minute.

At Christmas, I received a new Macbook. I have not written anything for an entire week. Not counting this blog. Instead, I have read the manual and attended workshops. Downloaded software. Fondled the keyboard and examined the drop-down menus. I’ve considered how this tool might expand my reach and sharpen my delivery.

 

I have also developed and refined a table of characters, places, and terminology for my new high fantasy trilogy. Redrew a map of the Seven Realms where the action takes place. Written a pre-history for the novels and selected photographs to illustrate setting. I have laid in bed, dreaming on my characters and what they’ll be doing in the next book.

I’ve answered scores of emails (I’m always pretty good about that) but I still have some snail-mail correspondence to catch up with.

My New Year’s Resolution: to develop a system for taking care of those other jobs in order to make my work and my writing life better. This includes making time for dreaming.  

Young Writer Q & A

Q: On your website, it says don’t be a writer unless you have to. I love to write and hope to some day become an author. I was just curious as to why you give that advice. Thank you for your time. Emily.

A: That advice seems odd, I know. It’s targeted especially at those who would like to make a living as a writer, and it’s meant to discourage dabblers. Publishing is such a chancy, random business, and so hard on the ego. Even the best, most successful writers are rejected a million times. It’s definitely not for the faint-hearted. As Red Smith said, “Writing is easy. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” And after you do that, some assistant at a publishing house will respond with a form letter. In the event you are published, one negative review will shade out a dozen positive ones.

So by all means write if you’re compelled to do it. If the process itself is so rewarding that you’d do it even if you’re never published. If writing feeds your soul. If writing is like breathing in and breathing out—essential to life. If putting words together makes you high.

But, if you can do something else, go for it. You’ll have an easier path, and a greater chance for success as others define it.

I feel blessed that I’ve achieved some success with my writing. It has allowed me to write full time. It inhibits that chain of questions that begins with, “You’re a writer, huh?” and ends with, “So what all have you published?”

But I’d write for myself regardless.

Good News

The Warrior Heir has been named to the 2009 Abraham Lincoln Illinois High School Book Awards Master list by the Illinois School Library Media Association (ISLMA). This is a list of finalists who will be voted on by high schoolers in Illinois.

According to the ISLMA Website: “The Abraham Lincoln Award is awarded annually to the author of the book voted as most outstanding by participating students in grades nine through twelve in Illinois. The award is named for Abraham Lincoln, one of Illinois' most famous residents and himself an avid reader and noted author. The award is sponsored by the Illinois School Library Media Association (ISLMA).The Abraham Lincoln Award is designed to encourage high school students to read for personal satisfaction and become familiar with authors of young adult and adult books.”

For more information, visit http://www.islma.org/lincoln.htm


The Wizard Heir has been named to the 2008 New York Public Library’s Books for the Teen Age.

The release date of The Dragon Heir is being moved up from September 9 to late August. Stay tuned for the exact date.

In this photo, find Beth Dunacan’s students at Vista Academy of Visual and Performing Arts in Vista, CA. with advance reading copes of The Dragon Heir. Ms. Duncan’s students review books for Barnes & Noble’s in California.

The Demon King

Wondering how I'm spending my time now that Dragon Heir is in final editing? Am I watching a Lost marathon, scraping sludge from my kitchen floor, or cleaning out my To Be Filed folder?

Oh, no. Get the young ones inside, fill the cistern and bar the doors. I'm writing again.

In a previous post, I mentioned that I'd sold a new 3-book series to Hyperion. Since then, my agents, the wonderful Christopher Schelling, Ralph Vicinanza, and Chris Lotts have sold German, Italian, and Dutch translation rights. So I've been doing the butt-in-chair thing. I'm 300 pages in, and here's a teaser on Book 1.

The Demon King

When 15-year-old Han Alister and his Clan friend Fire Dancer encounter three underage wizards setting fire to the sacred mountain of Hanalea, Han has no idea that this event will precipitate a cascade of disasters that will threaten everything he cares about.
Han takes an amulet from one of the wizards, Micah Bayar, to prevent him from using it against them. Only later does he learn that it has an evil history—it once belonged to the Demon King, the wizard who nearly destroyed the world a millennium ago. And the Bayars will stop at nothing to get it back.
Han’s life is complicated enough. He’s the former streetlord of the Raggers—a street gang in the city of Fellsmarch. His street name, Cuffs, comes from the mysterious silver bracelets he’s worn all his life—cuffs that are impossible to take off.
Now Han’s working odd jobs, helping to support his family, and doing his best to leave his old life behind. Events conspire against him, however. When members of a rival gang start dying, Han naturally gets the blame.
Meanwhile, Princess Raisa ana’Helena has her own battles to fight. As Heir to the throne of the Fells, she’s just spent three years of relative freedom with her father’s family at Demonai Camp—riding, hunting, and working the famous Clan markets. Now court life in Fellsmarch pinches like a pair of too-small shoes.
Wars are raging to the south, and threaten to spread into the high country. After a long period of quiet, the power of the Wizard Council is once again growing. The people of the Fells are starving and close to rebellion. Now more than ever, there’s a need for a strong queen.
But Raisa’s mother Queen Helena is weak and distracted by the handsome Avery Bayar, High Wizard of the Fells. Raisa feels like a cage is closing around her—and an arranged marriage and eroded inheritance is the least of it.
Raisa wants to be more than an ornament in a glittering cage. She aspires to be like Hanalea—the legendary warrior queen who killed the Demon King and saved the world. With the help of her friend, the cadet Amon Byrne, she navigates the treacherous Gray Wolf Court, hoping she can unravel the conspiracy coalescing around her before it’s too late.

Time Management

At a recent school visit, a student asked, “If you weren’t an author, what would you do?”

It was the kind of question kids prepare under threat from teachers. I answered without giving it much thought, which is usually how you find a true answer.

“Well, I said, “I would sleep more. I would watch television now and then, and not just the news. I would finish the project I’ve had on my weaving loom for two years and go back to spinning. I would talk on the phone and make pastry and invite people over for dinner. I would cook things that take longer than half an hour.”

The boy blinked at me, and I knew it was TMI, but I continued to unfurl my mental list.

I would continue researching my family tree. I would read more for pleasure and less to a purpose and go back to my other book club. I would get out in the garden and walk in the woods and daydream in the ether and not on the page.

I would buy better Christmas presents and be fully present with my sons when they tell their stories.

I would volunteer more and get involved with a political campaign again.

None of these things are wasting time. But they are the things that go when a person with a family and a full time job becomes a writer.

I used to teach a time management course to interns. “There will never be enough time for everything,” I declared, “But there will always be enough time for the most important things.”

I’m not so sure.

Kindling Words 2008

I’m leaving Vermont at the end of another Kindling Words. The hugs and kisses have been exchanged, the promises made, the connections that lie between us as writers reinforced, spun into tensile strength. It’s a web that extends from Tucson to Texas to New York City, from Iowa and Chicago to Florida and Atlanta. One of the blessings of the Internet is that we can find our kindred, wherever they are. But sometimes we just have to meet face to face.
For those of you who don’t know, Kindling Words is a conference/retreat for published writers, illustrators, and editors, where the focus is on craft and renewal. It’s a kind of cult ritual, an orgy of fellowship, a revival meeting (complete with spirituals sung about a bonfire) that heals and energizes. And lest you think we spent the whole time singing “Kumbaya,” our goddess presenters were Laurie Halse Anderson, (writers) Vera Williams (illustrators) and Cecile Goyette (editors).
Laurie spoke about the smack-down match between character and plot. We concluded that the relationship between character and plot is less a battle than an erotic, tangled embrace that births story (author fans self rapidly).
Laurie also hosted a lunchtime “white space” session on her “five-year plan,” subtitled (by me) Beyond Romance—How to Keep Body and Soul Together as a Full time Writer. It was practical advice for anyone who wants to make a living as a writer. I was especially impressed by her inclusion of volunteering and what she called “family drama” time in her plan for living.
I’m such a fan girl, and participants in the conference are so generous with their time. I attended Jane Yolen’s informal session on whether and how to find an agent, not because I am looking for an agent (hi, Christopher!), but because I just wanted to hang out in Jane’s room. Of course, I couldn’t help learning a lot from the plain-spoken Jane.
As important as the formal presentations is the opportunity to learn from true peers. They’ve often already solved the problems I’m wrestling with—even something as simple as how to resist the siren call of the Internet when you’re on deadline. Probably one of the most important lessons of KW is that there is no one right way to do things.
Some writers begin the writing process with character. Others with plot. Usually we start with the element we’re most comfortable with.
Some of us revise as we go along. Others of us vomit on the page, writing in a white heat until the bones of the story are down. Some of us love revision. Newbury-winner and keynote speaker Linda Sue Park said that writing is revision.
Speaking of Linda Sue, emblematic of this diversity of technique was the smack-down battle between Laurie and Linda. They disagreed on almost everything—and both are gifted, productive, genius writers.
On Saturday afternoon, the nine editors attending (including my own Arianne Lewin!) graciously answered our questions in a roundtable. More plain speech. As in any kind of therapy, first we have to be honest with each other.
That night, twenty geniuses shared their souls in five-minute increments during the candlelight readings. Themes ranged from incest to faeries to badger parenthood. Formats ranged from brilliant picture book rhymes to Green poetry to YA novel. At one point a choir of dissonant frogs emerged from the audience. It was that kind of night.
And, finally, the bonfire of wishes and dreams. We sang camp songs, folk songs, antiwar ballads, and show tunes. There is something elemental and primitive about assembling around a fire. It forges a connection that can carry us as missionaries into a world that sometimes seems bent on stomping on our souls.
I mean, I sang harmony with Gregory Maguire and actually felt in context.
Finally, we cast our prayers and dreams into the fire, watching the flames exhale them toward the stars, hoping to catch the ear of God.

I could write a whole blog of thank yous. Thank you to the mystic healer Alison James, who streams magic, to the wise Tanya Lee Stone, to Marnie Brooks, who called down blessings from the top of the stairs, to the always generous Nancy Werlin, to wise counselors Martha Levine, Mikki Knudsen, Laurie Calkhoven, and many others unnamed. Thanks to everyone who helped this happen.

Dragon Heir Cover -- Woo-Hoo!

I’m so excited! We finally have a galley cover for Dragon Heir (Hyperion, 9/2008). The illustrator is the genius Larry Rostant, and the book designer is Elizabeth Clark. It may be tweaked a bit more for the final book jacket, but IMHO it’s gorgeous!! What do you think?

Breaking News

Breaking News

I’ve just accepted an offer from Hyperion Books for Children for a new 3-book high fantasy series set in the Fells, a mountainous queendom in the Land Between the Waters. More to come on that.

Students at Smithfield Middle School near Dallas-Fort Worth created a book trailer for The Warrior Heir for a school project. You can view the video on YouTube at http://youtube.com/watch?v=BTSpzjzbDPo

Spanish language and Portuguese translation rights for The Warrior Heir have recently sold to Via Magna in Barcelona and Difusão Cultural do Livro Ltda in Sao Paulo, Brazil, respectively.

We have an official release date for The Dragon Heir. It will be published September 8, 2008.

I’ll be visiting Isaac Newton Middle School in Centennial, CO January 10, 2008. I’ll be appearing at Barnes & Noble, Littleton, CO Wednesday, January 9 at 7 p.m.

Concealed Carry

I like to think of blogging as a kind of literary concealed carry.

Let me explain.

It’s argued by the gun lobby that concealed weapons protect us all. The street thug and carjacker might think twice knowing his prospective victim might whip out a .44. And because it’s concealed, they don’t know who’s armed.

These days, the world of commerce is a haven for thieves and grifters. Only a fool would attempt to navigate those mean streets without a weapon. Blogging empowers the powerless and—um—franchises the disenfranchised.

Let’s say you’re a health insurance company and you turn down an expensive claim from one of your customers—a claim you know full well is legitimate. Hey, you think. Business is business and I gotta think about my bonus. What’s Granny going to do? Threaten me with her cane? She’ll be dead before this gets through the appeals process.

The next thing you know, search engines are turning up hits on Granny’s Blogspot account of her experience. Links are proliferating. There’s even a new Yahoos Group—MegaMutual Ripoffs.

Granny shows off her incision on Good Morning America. Turns out she has a name—Carolyn—and she’s very telegenic. Other news outlets are calling for a quote. Some busybody Senator is convening a committee and your boss wants to meet with you on Friday afternoon.

Who knew Granny was packing?

Predators of the corporate world—consider yourself warned. Maybe you’re selling electronics gear that you know is defective. Maybe you’re marketing toys covered in lead paint. Maybe you’re an airline that routinely cancels flights and dumps passengers onto the tarmac. Maybe you’re a ripoff vanity publisher that feeds off people’s dreams. Whoever you are, whatever you do—consider this:

Do you feel lucky? Punk?

There was just a big debate on a writer’s email list I’m on about author visits. The question was, If I write for children and teens, do I have to do school, bookstore, and library visits?

Some authors love to meet the public, and others don’t. Either way, the potential for humiliation is great. I’ve heard a story about an author who came into a classroom and was asked if she was the substitute teacher. Clearly, the class had not been prepped for her visit!

The travel thing can be grueling and difficult to coordinate with other responsibilities. The hardest thing for me is when I'm being hosted by someone who is embarrassed about a small turnout. They keep apologizing and I'm like, Who can predict these things? I've spoken to groups that consist of the librarian and her sister and others where there are 150 kids (school visit or joint school-library program.)

I’ve had unexpected blessings. I once did a school and library program in this tiny town in southern Ohio. It was so small I had to stay across the river. The town was run by these six powerful sisters-one was a librarian at the county library, one was a librarian at the middle school, one was married to the high school principal, one was the English teacher, the sister in law was the library director. They were the literary and educational aristocracy in that town, and they were powerful. These women pre-sold scads of books, and the entire 6th grade had read my book when I arrived.

I did a writing workshop at a school in San Antonio, and those 6th graders could hardly stay in their seats, they were so excited about writing and sharing what they’d written. And I spoke at a library in Youngstown for Teen Reads Week to a huge crowd of students brought in for the occasion. The library staff made me feel like a celebrity. At a teen book club I spoke to a boy who was so excited about the new fantasy book he’d just read that he wanted to give me his copy so I could read it.

I did a bookstore visit in a nearby small town and a few of my friends showed up and a couple people I didn't even know who saw it in the paper. The store clerk seemed really pleased, so I asked how many people usually show for a booksigning, and she said, "None."

I was a reading nerd when I was a teenager, but I never got to meet an author. I didn’t know where all the authors lived, but I was sure it was nowhere near me. So I do like meeting kids who love books, and who want to write books of their own, because I see my 14-year-old self in every one of them.

Conversations Off the Grid

A week or so ago I left work late on a Friday night after a horrible day. Out in the parking deck, a woman was having trouble getting her car started. The security system kept shutting it down. She asked if she could borrow my cell phone. I dug madly through my purse and handed her my I-phone toy.
“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.
“Um. It’s an I-phone.”
“Hmmph. You going to get that rebate?”

So she called a friend for advice, and after a brief conversation handed back my phone and tried again. No luck. I asked if she needed more help, but she told me she was going back into her office.

A few minutes later, I am out on the road when my phone rings again. I answer.
“So? What happened? Did it start?” the caller demands pugnaciously.
“Well, no,” I said. “Actually, I’m just the person who leant her the cell phone and…”
“Well, where is she?”
“She went back in her office.”
“What do you mean, she went back in her office?”
“That’s what she said she was going to do. I….”
“What’s with you women? You get all these degrees and you still don’t have any common sense. I told her to call back if it wouldn’t start. What don’t you understand about that? Why would she go back in her office?”
“Well, um, maybe you should try her in the office?” and I hung up.

So the next morning I discover my keys are missing. After searching everywhere in a panic, I wonder if I might have dropped them in the parking deck while digging madly for my cell phone. When I get back to school, I call the University Police Lost and Found.

“I believe I lost some keys on campus and wondered if they’d been turned in,” I said.
L&F Lady: “Was this recently?”
Me: “Well, I think it was Friday night. In Schrank Hall south parking deck.”
L&F Lady: “What’d they look like?”
Me: “Well, they were attached to a magic wand.”
L&F Lady: “What did the magic wand look like?” No doubt so she can distinguish it from all the other magic wands turned in at L&F
Me, embarrassed: “Well, it had little sparklies in it that slide around when you turn it.”
L&F Lady: “Mmmpf. What kind of keys were on it?”
Me, after long pause: “Well, there was a Honda key with a thick black base.”
L&F Lady: “Anything else?”
Me, floundering: “Well, some other keys.”
L&F Lady: Were there any…cards, maybe?”
Me: “There was a library card, I guess.”
L&F Lady: “Fine. We have ‘em.”
Me:
L&F Lady: “See, the little sparklies weren’t sliding at first so I wasn’t sure if this was the one.”