When Wishes Come True

Here's what mine looks like:

On Tuesday, September 27, my sister Jen and I drove from Neenah, WI, to Chicago to hear Laini Taylor read from her newest book Daughter of Smoke and Bone.

The trip could have taken 3 1/2 hours, but we did it in 5. :) One tricky exit and several wrong turns swooped us around Oakbrook Center until finally a tollbooth lady saved the day. Grace in a glass box, that's what she was, giving directions to two tired and hungry Wisconsites.

About a dozen folks gathered on the second floor of Barnes and Noble at 7. A beautiful blue-wigged bookseller passed out turquoise-feathered masks to those of us who blogged about books, and then she introduced Laini.

(And this is where I want to gush, but it's probably too much, too weird, too strong, so I'll put it in parentheses to lighten it up. But I absolutely felt like Amy from The Big Bang Theory. Socially inept Amy who girl-crushes on pretty Penny, and badgers her with titles of Bestie and BFF, wishing for sleepovers and hair-brushings. I absolutely wanted to share BFF necklaces with Laini and brush her pink hair. But, you know, I played it cool. Except for when my eyes were shining with I-love-you-so-much tears.) :)

Laini began by telling us where Daughter of Smoke and Bone originated. I think we may remember this, we followers, we familiar to the 'shiny new idea.' (Didn't we call it slutty, too? The delicious idea with that 'come hither' smile?) Hitting walls and grinding dry on a post-apocolyptic novel, Laini gave herself a day of free writing. A scene between a blue-haired daughter and her monster-dad bubbled up, and with it bubbled dozens of questions: Why did this monster raise a human girl? Why is he wearing a wishbone? And why is his shop filled with teeth?

She finished her original novel before returning to her blue-haired heroine. That original novel hasn't been touched since. Writing about Karou and Brimstone totally jazzed her, she shared; blooming their story brough tremendous wish fulfillment for her.We heard her read Akiva's attack on Karou--that important moment of his soulless eyes staring at Karou as she cocked her chin to the side in wonder--that breathless moment of a killer's hesitation.
And then she opened up the floor for questions. One woman asked about how art and illustration influenced her descriptive writing. Another commented on how hard writing a review about DoSaB is since the story is propelled by secrets and timed reveals. Laini talked about illustration for a while, mentioning (I hope these notes of mine are accurate!) not only her original graphic novel with Jim that led her to Prague for research but also a new 8-page graphic novel that Jim designed for the U.K. promotion of DoSaB. I wish they would make that available here! She also agreed that the book is hard to describe. The jacket summary took some serious work for everyone, she told us, to interest readers without giving away too much.

I asked abou Zuzana, my favorite character. ("Ooh cake. I'll take cake. But not pocket cake, because yuck.") Laini shared with us how Zuzana was important for levity and warmth--how stories without those moments of joy were a struggle for readers to return to. My sister Jen whispered "The Hunger Games," and I couldn't help but agree. Luckily, fans of Zuzana can look forward to seeing her again.

And then it was time for book signing and pictures.

And more gushings want to pour out here, and not even parenthetical ones, because it's just such a lovely moment to experience a wish coming true. How I've wished to meet Laini. Stopping short of rubbing my head onto hers, I've wanted to see how I could press some of her creativity and her energy into my own spirit. I've found so much inspiration in her blogs--how much more magic could she pass through smiles and eye-contact, laughs and eyebrow waggles and nods? And of course, words and wisdoms? I've thought of flying to Portland--maybe during CthuluCon?--and sitting at Slappycakes until she and Clementine come by.

But no need to lurk behind delicious pancakes. I've met the loveliest writer, and I've bottled up her magic. I'll mix her inspiration with a dash of my own courage and get back to my writing my own dark, beautiful stories.

When wishes come true, hearts burst with gratitude. My thanks to beautiful Jen for facing rush hour and wilty salads with me on our 12-hour adventure. I know you've fallen in love with Karou, too, and have reminisced your trip to Prague. I'm so glad you're a part of the fan club. :)

Thanks to the dads and grandma who made it possible for us moms to run away for a day. Thank you again, tollbooth worker, who guided us out of neverending I-94. And thank you, Laini, for your gorgeous, elsewhere stories and for sharing them with us in person, and in polka-dots.

Jo's Pink Ribbon

I'm thinking about Jo March tonight. Do you remember in Little Women when Jo first took her manuscript to a magazine editor in New York? Didn't she lovingly wrap her pages in a pink ribbon? I'm fairly sure a ribbon was involved. And I'm fairly sure the whole bundle hit the bottom of a wire trash bin before she had a chance to pull her skirts from the quickly-closing door.

I know. It's so common. The bundle of papers on the editor's floor. Mine joined them again this week and I know this is part of the journey but I couldn't help but wish oh please let this be the right person and I know.

Rejection slip in the mail today, my friends. I'm squinching my nose up as I type because I know the story probably wasn't ready. My March mini-NaNo could use months--years?-- of ripening. However, I met an editor at an SCBWI luncheon last spring, and she had a deadline for us to send one manuscript this fall. I sent it and crossed every finger and toe. But my story wasn't a good fit for her, and I can't help but think that I'm still so new and naive and I wonder when WHEN will my writing not wear a pink ribbon.

That ribbon is naivite, isn't it? It's too much hope, maybe. It's green-apple newness, and not-readiness, and not quite good enough to publish-i-ness.

And although it's best to shake it, shake myself a stiff martini, and get on with making my apple-green story much, much better, I can't help but take tonight to just sniff and sigh. Tonight I'm just sad.

What do you do with rejections? Stick 'em on a nail, like Stephen King? :) I keep them in a binder. Jay hates binders, but I figure binders make everything better. They organize and store and somehow keep old things relevant by having them perch, upright, on the edge of a shelf. My green binder is fat with four unmarked chapters and one new, thin form letter. Blech.

Tomorrow I fill the well, as my friend Sophia so eloquently reminds us. I'm sure cinnamon toast and Santa Claus will clear the blues.

How do you overcome the not-a-good-fit-for-us-best-wishes blues?

Story or Skill?

Hello! Just before Thanksgiving break, one of my NaNoing 6th graders asked a question that I've been mulling on all week. She asked, "What do you think is more important? The plot, or the writing?"

! ! ! ! !

I love this question. Lydia answered herself quickly enough. "I think it's the plot," she said. "I mean, think about it. Why would you pick a book up anyway? Because you read the back and think it sounds good."

And Lydia's absolutely right: a good story is crucial. But exceptions abound, don't they? What draws us to books, what keeps us in them once we've started? What do we value as readers? Can we finish a book even if it has a lame plot? Does crappy writing make us chuck unfinished stories across the room? I've been trying to compile a list of awesome story/awesome skill titles, and I'm falling woefully short. I thought I'd at least start the list here and ask you all to pile on it with me. :)

Awesome Plot, Awesome Writing

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins has to lead this catagory simply because I just finished it. I'm totally traumatized, of course, and will never shake Cato out of my memory. However its plot is wildly imaginative (as well as horrifying), and the prose is so tight, I almost cried. After reading the first two pages, I shook my head and wondered how I ever thought I could write a novel.

Awesome Plot, Not-so-awesome Writing

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Killer story! Brilliantly eerie concepts of the monsters we create with our own hands. Love how Mary is the monster and her dad inspired the character of the cold-hearted Dr. Frankenstein. Love how she wrote the beginnings of the tale in a Swiss chateau with her hubby Percy and their bff, Lord Byron on a cold summer night, sharing scary stories. Do NOT love the writing. It's stuffy and overwrought. It meanders and moralizes. It clouds things I want clear and illuminates bits I could care less about. But it's a classic. Hmm. Do I just not know good writing when I read it, or could plot maybe weigh in heavier than clean, concise prose? :)

Not-so-awesome Plot, Awesome Writing

The Little Stranger by Sara Waters. I waited years for this latest of Waters' books, and I was woefully disappointed when reading it. Her writing is gorgeous--when I'm in her books, I feel the cramp and cold of old cars, see the late-summer sun glint off of high windows, sigh with the sadness of a mother's slumped shoulder, shield my eyes at gaudily decorated rooms and aristocratic women. But the story wasn't good enough! I know, I know--who am I to say so? But I do say so. A cranky doctor spends 500 pages terrorizing a small family out of their fine home.
Not enough! I did finish the story, but I felt grumpy and let down most of the way through. And I jumped to the end to see 'whodunit.' So, maybe no matter how gorgeous my writing grows to be after decades of practice, I will not rely on style to tell a stale tale.

Not-so-awesome Plot, Not-so-awesome Writing

Pretty Little Liars. I want to simultaneously give this series a frat-boy high-five and a wicked-twisty snake bite. You know the kind where you make your frenemy's forearm burn? Because I think the plots are ridiculous and the writing made my eyes feel coated in bubblegum: "she watched his tight-from-running ass" and "taut-from-swimming abs." Seriously? But I finished the whole first book. So well done, Sara Shepard. I mean, holy cow--debuting as a best-seller? Nabbing a TV series? Seriously--high five!

I waded through over 300 pages of teenage sex, drugs, stealing, drinking, lying, and blackmail. Why? Because no matter how much it drove me crazy, I wanted to know who was sending the mysterious texts. Is that a good plot? I don't think so. I think it's a brilliant gimmick. Especially since we don't find out the texter's identity until book four. :)

So, the cynic in me raises an eyebrow and wonders, is gimmick even more important than plot and writing style?

No, no, no. Of course it isn't.

But is it?

No.

Well--?

Stop it.

Tell me what you think!

NaNo Love

NaNo is in full swing here in midwest Wisconsin! :) Some highlights from our first week:

Team Dracula has been writing with a vengence. My 7th grade students have already upped their word count goal. By the fourth day, they both neared their initial target of 2000 words. Harper Madeline bumped her goal up to 5000, and Alexsis Rocks is shooting for 4500.

Alexsis flopped down yesterday and said, "I'm kind of sick of writing." I told her how normal that was and asked what I could do to help her along.

"Well, I could use some candy," she said. Oh! Missed opportunity! I'm not that teacher with the glass bowl of candy on her desk! But of course I love candy. Of course we need candy to help get us through. Left-over Halloween bowl . . . here I come. :)

With no sugar to boost her mood, I asked Alexsis if she wanted to be done with her story. She thought for a minute, then said, "No. I don't want to just give up on it. That's lame." She decided to get to the "blood and stuff because that's interesting." I totally agreed.

Not only is Team Dracula flying along, but my four sixth graders heard about our novel project and asked to get in on it. Absolutely! They deferred registering online; they weren't interested in word counts. They're just on fire to write these stories that bump and spin in their brains. One girl plans to write a full-length novel modeling the Percy Jackson series. Another is inspired by Twilight, but wants her werewolves and vampires to fall in love. Another girl is working on a WWIII dystopian romance. What a gift of a job I have! To sit with these girls each day, hacking away at scenes; working out dialogue and punctuation; planning action sequences and twisty endings. I am daily inspired and encouraged by them all.

We spent time last week haunting author websites. They pored over blogs and sites of Rick Riordan, Derek Landy, Terry Deary, Scott Westerfeld, J.K. Rowling, Jeff Kinney . . . . Some of the students are writing letters to the authors, and to read their first drafts was so touching:

"I'm writing a novel too."
"Do you have any advice?"
"I LOVE your books!"
"I want to write a book like yours."
"I'd really like to hear back from you."

I love, love, love watching young hearts fall in love with authors and their stories. There's really no greater romance, in my mind.

As for me and my NaNo? I'm plugging away, but I'm woefully behind. Since I'm registered on the Young Writers site, I can't seem to buddy-up with you grown-up NaNoers. I'm at something like 6500 words today. I'm very proud of those words. :) No sense in beating myself up, right? It's all about the ride. And who knows? I may get swept up in a wildfire of writing over Thanksgiving break. Here's crossing my fingers!

Here's a funny anecdote to end: A fifth grader asked me about my story. Now, my story is a YA book touching on all sorts themes not appropriate for fifth grade boys. I hemmed and said, "Oh, you know, it's about friendship."

"But, like, what happens?"

"Oh, it just covers this one night when all these friends get together."

He just looked at me, clearly disappointed. "So, your story doesn't really have a plot?"

Oh, ouch! Could this be wisdom from the mouth of babes? It took me days to recover. No, my story has a plot. It has a subtle plot, a Catcher-in-the-Rye plot, I tell myself. Not a Deltora Quest plot (and more's the pity for me! Deltora Quest is awesome! Where in the world do you come up with your ideas, Ms. Ridda?)

But our conversation didn't end there. He asked the title of my story. I told him the working title was Cinnamon Blue.

"Does it have any cinnamon in it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, buddy. It doesn't." I don't know if I've ever let down a student with so loud a thud in all my life.

;)

NaNo for Two or Three

My seventh graders and I are going to novel together through National Novel Writing Month. I teach English at a small international school, so when I say 'my seventh graders,' I mean both of them. :)


I've registered all three of us on the NaNoWriMo site under Team Dracula. We've been reading Dracula this month, and they're learning how to craft a really killer horror story. They're both prepping characters: good ones, bad ones, expendable ones. They're describing monsters, devising brutal murders and impossible supernatural powers. They're facing the reality that I'm actually going to ask them to write every day next month.


They both looked at me today. One said, "This will be hard." The other immediately said, "This will be fun." I smiled and said, "It will be both."

Their stories will be between 2000-5000 words. With just the two of them for company, I don't know that we'll be able to sludge our way through the murky sloughs of writer's block. It will absolutely be hard, and I'm worried I won't have the skill to quietly encourage them through.


But, oh, if they make it---and if they learn how to work through a tough scene, and if they feel a character pull them in a whole new direction, and if they hear dialogue faster than they can record it---what fun it will be! And what an honor it will be to join them on their journey.


And I? Am I ready to write 50,000 words? Oh, man. I don't know that I am. Life and sickness and then more sickness knocked me out of the writing scene this summer, and I got all cramped and un-muscle-y and resigned. Can I really jump into this ridiculously challenging marathon? This is going to be hard. ;)

What's your plan? How many words a day? How many weekend retreats from family and laundry? And what is the treat you will give yourself at the end?

I'll keep you posted on our class progress. I believe I will find tremendous inspiration in the efforts of my two sweet girls. Learning from them, expanding my own heart and mind as they open themselves to a new challenge--that is going to be the most fun.

Birthday Wishes

I recently had a birthday. Though I packed my tiara away the second I turned 30, and I've inexplicably soured toward streamers, I found myself celebrating richly.

So much can be accounted for among those flickering candles; so much can be hoped for in their wisps of smoke. I held so many wishes in my heart for this new year that I heard them tumble over themselves as I blew. Who knows what the universe heard. Who knows what may be granted, what may be denied, what may be a surprise to me, a bungling of my heart cry or a wry game of the Fates. Who knows.

But I know I wish for more writing. For more friendships with writers. For more risk and strength and barbaric-yawp bravery. And I wish for health for my loved ones. And I wish for calm. And I wish, and I wish, and I wish . . .

And I wish to hear from you. :)

On my birthday, with my Snow child, looking forward to all good things together.

Gardening Pains

Ways Gardening Has Sort of Kicked my A**

1. Rain has rotted my roses.

2. Slugs have devoured my pansies. I poured salt on the slugs--like the leaches in "Stand By Me"--but salt actually just blanches and dries pansies. didn't know that.

3. Rabbits and chipmunks have severed my morning glories.

4. They have also devoured two pumpkin vines, one squash vine, two rows of lettuce, radishes, and an entire tomato plant.

5. Three planters filled with nasturtium, zinnias, and kitchen herbs actually didn't have drain holes, so rain has rotted their roots. Their leaves sag brown or blow away like transparent gray paper.

6. Rabbits have eaten half of my sedum and also half of the marigolds I planted around the sedum to protect it from the rabbits.

7. A storm whipped off a branch from my ash tree, and the branch landed on my potted impatiens.

8. I planted the ferns too late and in too much sun. They have withered into brown crumbs.

But! Ah, but! The potatoes and one tomato plant have not only survived but are enormous, are imposing, are promising far more harvest than I would have hoped. And rows of onion flourish despite our hardships.

So I have learned that gardening is far more about defensive tactics than about healthy soil and organic seeds--at least in my world. Gardening is about strong fences, wise research, careful evaluation of tools and goods. It's about protecting roots from rain and leaves from hot sun and from black-hearted, hungry critters.

And life is no different. And if these very real, very annoying gardening stories could be read as metaphors for our last several weeks, then I would say the lessons are the same. I must build strong fences to protect what's within. Research carefully to know what I face. Evaluate the tools I use, and improve them if they are not doing the job.

And celebrate what is flourishing.

The rains have hit us hard, and my god but those a**hole bunnies won't leave us alone. :) But we'll harvest some good crops next month, I am sure.