Where the @#%** is it?

I tell my writing students every week how important it is to keep their materials organized. Record bibliographic information when you take notes so that you know where the material came from and don't have to scramble for the info months later. 

Sadly, I am one of those teachers who needs to be more diligent practicing what she preaches.  I am pretty good. Most of the time. But there have been incidences, like yesterday, when I checked my notes and discovered the perfect quote scribbled diagonally across an otherwise blank page with no notation to nail it in time and place.  Aha! I say. Not a problem.  I remember this one.  It was Polly Campbell, a quote on voice, in an article in Writer's Digest.  So.  I go to my file for the chapter on voice.  No copy of Writer's Digest there.  Perhaps I photocopied it. Perhaps not.  Okay.  I flip through the other chapter files with no success.  I empty the large box containing every bit of information that I have collected for this book, but come up empty. 

Now my floor is covered in file folders.  So I look up.  In some bizarre fit of tidiness, did I put the magazine on a shelf?  I am surrounded by more than 500 books stretching up to the ceiling.  I can safely say that the magazine in question would not be on the top two rows.  I would have needed a step stool and I think I would have remembered that.  However, with my mother's memory declining, I have started to doubt myself and carefully scanned each shelf, even the highest ones, for the missing mago. 

I pulled out a few errant Writer's Digests dating back nearly ten years; none of them the one I sought.  I know the quote was on the left hand page in the bottom right corner of the article.  Too bad I can't remember who wrote the @#&& article!

That's it.  I will collect every copy of Writer's Digest currently in my house.  Surely, if that issue exists, it will appear during this thorough manhunt.

Or not. 

By dinner time, I had a stack of old magazines piled on the kitchen counter and the air was cloudy with dust disturbed during my frenzy.  Take a break.  Relax. It will turn up. It's not the end of the world. 

But this morning, I'm thinking, maybe it wasn't Writer's Digest. Maybe it was Poets & Writers!

The search continues!

Career Day Blues

Oakfield-Alabama High School in Oakfield, NY had a career day the first day of school. They asked me to talk about being a writer. Certainly. But what would I tell them? Do you have to go to college? No, not necessarily. Do you have to be an English major? Most writers I know were not. Does it pay well? It depends how hard you work.

So I told them how I fell into my first book contract – another writer dropped the project leaving the editor in the lurch and I filled in. And what I liked most about writing – learning new things everyday, meeting fascinating people, and getting to share what I learn with kids.

I told them the perks – working my own hours, choosing my projects, and having nobody standing over my shoulder.

I described the down side – nobody standing over my shoulder, so that I am responsible for making myself work (which I am not good at).

How could they get into the writing business? I looked at their smooth faces and glazed-over eyes, and realized that they were all having cell phone withdrawal. Then I thought how lucky they were to be growing up in this age of technology. For them it is second nature. They write more now than kids ever did, putting their thoughts and emotions into text. It may be textING, but it is still written. They can create a blog for free, write and hone their style, cozy into their own voice, and develop a following all before they are ever published. No one ever read anything I wrote until it was in print. Now, kids can come to traditional publishing or whatever it morphs into being able to say, “My blog has 500 followers…” which would make any marketing department salivate. I, on the other hand, have to remind myself that I have taken on this challenge to write a short blurb once a week, and then stare at the blank screen wondering what to write about. My world is not as open as theirs is. My world is not as documented. I don’t feel that anyone needs to know or cares about what I'm thinking as asked on Facebook. I envy these kids. My evil side even resents them for how quickly they could surpass me.

After the last session, the teens slogged to their lockers and out the door, each one reaching for their cell phones that had been dormant for too long, to reconnect with the world.

I did too. I sat down and wrote this blog. Just one step ahead.

Tired of Being the Tortoise

Several years ago I wrote a book called Bacteria & Viruses, and while doing the research I came across a curious anecdote. Two Polish doctors fooled the Nazises during WWII using a benign bacteria. The germophobic Germans quarentined whole villages because they thought there was a typhus epidemic when there really wasn't. I photocopied the page and tucked it away in my idea file and went on to finish the Bacteria and Virus book.

A few years went by and other projects came up -- co-write a book on New York State, finish a biography of George Washington. But the story stayed in my head. Occasionally, on a dull day, I would search the Internet for more information about the incident and I even ordered the doctor's book although it was written in Polish. Another year or so went by and I finished another biography (For the Birds: the life of Roger Tory Peterson) and an adult nonfiction title (The Anatomy of Nonfiction: How to write true stories for children). That brings me up to last week.

So I'm sitting at my desk thinking, "What should I do next?" What about that WWII story? So, several years after I first got the idea I finally dug out the information and tracked down the phone number of the daughter of one of the doctors. I called and she answered immediately. She was pleasant and kind. I liked her voice. But then she stopped me in my tracks. She could not talk to me because she was negotiating a contract for the English translation for her father's book and possibly a movie. I thanked her for her time and wished her the best on her projects. Then I hung up the phone and cursed myself for being such a tortoise.

Why hadn't I jumped on the project when I first heard about it? She might have been eager to share with me personal stories, diaries, letters, and memories of her father. Why did I just sit on it? I am always telling students that the story that keeps nagging at you is the one you write. Then why didn't I take my own advice?

The sad thing is this is not the first time I have been usurped. Many years ago I learned of an artist who created the first life-size replicas of dinosaurs, or at least what scientists thought they looked like at the turn of the century. I even had a sister-in-law living in Europe at the time visit the site and take photos for me and collect info. Almost done with my research and half way through the writing Barbara Kerley's book The Dinosaurs of Waterhouse Hawkins came out. The illustrations by David Selznick won it a Caldecott Honor. My project was dead in the water.

What have I learned? I want to be a Hare. I want to jump on ideas, write faster, and query quicker. The adage - so many books, so little time -- is apropo. But from now on, I am going to do my best to even up my odds.

A Summer Break

After sending off the revisions of an adult nonfiction book, I changed gears and worked on fiction this summer. I needed a break from research and fact checking, from bibliographies and interviews. I wanted to go somewhere where I was in total control. I created the characters, invented the setting, made up the dialogue, and carved out my own plot line. But as September nears, I'm ready again to dig into another nonfiction project. I need to learn something, dig up new material, and envision a fresh slant. I can't wait!!

From the shores of Lake Champlain

The view from the balcony blurs in the distance. The Green Mountains just a gray shadow across the blue sky. The water ripples in between cradling islands and sailboats, and it is here that I am trying to revise a novel. My mind is telling me "Fat chance" but I hope I'm wrong. After this evening, the view will no longer hold my gaze and I'll bury my nose where it belongs - in the story I brought to work on during a writer's retreat. Perhaps retreats should be in some inner city warehouse where the windows are so thick with grim that you can't see out or would not even want to if you could. Is a pretty view a good thing in the revision process? I'll let you know later this week.

OZ -- Literally

I had the great pleasure of attending the Empire State Book Festival in Albany, NY last week. When I wasn't sitting on a Children's Nonfiction panel with Alexandra Siy and Karen Beil, I got to listen to other discussions and best of all the keynote speaker Gregory Maguire (Wicked).

One of Maguire's stories really hit home and reminded me of why I write nonfiction. He took the audience back to 1962 and a dusty backyard in Albany, NY. As the oldest, he was in charge of entertainment, and after exercising his veto power over playing church and playing school, he gave out parts for an impromptu production of The Wizard of Oz. The lilac bush was the twister, his sister was Dorothy and his baby brother was the Wicked Witch of the East stuck under the house. But there were more kids than parts so he added Captain Hook and Tinkerbell. When one of the munchkins reminded him that they were not a part of the movie they had all watched the night before, Maguire affirmed that it was okay. This was their version.

And that is the difference.

Fast forward to 1969 and zoom in on me playing Oz in my backyard with my friend Jeannie Doerr. I didn't have enough kids so we double and tripled up on parts. I, of course, got most of the important ones, at least the ones with the best songs. But even at 9, I was a literalist. I could not veer off script. Adding Captain Hook would have capsized the whole production and Tinkerbell would have just been wrong.

Like millions of other kids, Maguire and I were captivated by Oz. He was bold enough to open the gate at the end of the yellow brick road and see what else lay beyond. I, on the other hand, felt a certain reverence for what I saw and put myself inside it. I wrapped myself in the cowardly lion's cape/rug and continued the tradition. I read about Margaret Hamilton and her fake chin and the the original tin man's allergic reaction to the silver makeup. (Buddy Ebsen? What were they thinking?) I had not read the book yet, so to me this was the way Oz was supposed to be. You didn't vary it.

That is still how I feel. The technicolor world outside my door does not need additional made-up characters or fictionalized scenes. It is wonderful and miraculous just the way it is and I hope my nonfiction reflects that.

It did not escape me that as a nonfiction writer I did not sell a single book that day at the Empire State Book Festival (although they only had one of my titles in the shop) and Gregory Maguire got a hand cramp signing nonstop for almost two hours. It also didn't bother me. I was thrilled to get my copy of Wicked signed by one of my favorite storytellers.

Nonfiction Monday - Empire State Book Festival Nonfiction Panel

On Saturday I had the pleasure of sitting on a panel with two other nonfiction authors at the first annual Empire State Book Festival in Albany, NY. Moderated by author Steve Tomecek, Karen Beil (author of FIRE IN THEIR EYES), Alexandra Siy (author of CARS ON MARS and other nonfiction titles) and I discussed our research, photo aquisition, and how we found structure in a true story.

Sitting with dozens of amazing NASA images of Mars, Alexandra explained how she came up with the perfect theme to tie them all together. A long journey from Alaska reminded her that Spirit and the other rover had simply gone on a long road trip so she set up the book to reflect that.

Karen impressed upon the audience how important first person interviews were to bring a fire fighter's experience to a young reader.

And when a physics professor in the audience asked how he could bring his field of study to kids, I suggested that he think about what he would do or say if he were showing a neighbor kid through his lab. As a professional, he knows all the answers. Now he just has to figure out what the questions are. What would kids want to know? How does his work affect or connect with a child's life? Why did he go into that field? What stories can he share?

Thank you to Karen, Alexandra and Steve for a spirited discussion.