Judy is blogging about In the Unlikely Event, her latest book, throughout the summer of 2016.  She'll tell you stories about writing the book — of what's real and what isn't — and share more about the early 1950s including pictures, music and even a playlist.

Click here to read Judy's separate blog about In the Unlikely Event.

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I’m lucky to have a loving, supportive partner in life (husband George) who has been fantastic, accompanying me to every doctor’s appointment, keeping me amused, making sure I’m well fed, and reassuring me every step of the way. I'm grateful to him and the rest of my loving family.

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Not long after Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret was published I got a call asking me to write a new edition of a booklet called Growing Up and Liking It. This was to be an educational booklet, preparing girls for the big day when they, too, would get their periods. I was offered $5,000 to write it. A small fortune to me in the early 70's. Five times as much as my advance for the book!

I didn't have a clue how to make this booklet fun without making fun of it, but I took my assignment seriously. I came up with the idea of three friends, Patty, Donna, and Ginny, who write letters to each other. (Any of you remember?) I gave one of them gerbils to add interest to the story but, alas, gerbils were vetoed by the male execs (or so I was told) for being too rodent-like. They strongly suggested changing gerbils to kittens. Also, they didn't want anything icky about periods. The ick factor was not acceptable.

Bless my first agents, who made sure my name would never appear on the booklet or in any connection with the booklets. But, recently, when I came across a website from the Museum of Menstruation featuring covers from the various editions of Growing Up and Liking It I decided it was time to come clean.

I was especially tickled by an editor of the website who says of the booklet:

I thought it was a wooden version of Judy Blume's famous book Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.... but I think the writer(s) had a tin ear for what passes between girls of that age - at least that is how it appears to this non-expert in girls' conversation.
Oops! I guess this proves I can't write to order.


I've never endorsed any product (though, personally, I loved those modess....because ads -- pictured left --so elegant!) But recently I've been getting invitations to write something on the subject of menopause, featuring Margaret and her friends forty years later. Margaret, menopausal? I don't think so. Maybe Patty, Donna, and Ginny are menopausal now, but to me Margaret will always be 12.

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Why Margaret Gave Up Those Bulky Pads and Belts and Opted for a More Modern Solution

Are You There God? It's Me Margaret was published in 1970. Just months after the book came out sanitary belts became obsolete when adhesive strip pads hit the market, leaving poor Margaret behind to struggle through the age old question: belts with pins or belts with hooks? Here she was, a modern girl of the early 70's trapped into using the same equipment I used growing up in
the 50's. A few years later a smart editor in the UK suggested that Margaret trade in those belts and pads for the new, more friendly Feminine Products. Until then I'd never guessed it was possible to revisit this issue once a book was published. But from that moment on, it was Go For It, Margaret! I made the few changes myself then approached my US editor, who readily agreed it was a good idea.

Some of my readers who grew up with the earliest editions of the book get angry when they find out Margaret isn't using sanitary belts anymore. (I think it's been at least 25 years since she has.) They feel cheated, as if my publishers are messing with a classic. I appreciate their concern - really, I do -- but in this case I disagree. We're not talking about historical fiction. We're talking about the millions of girls who have read the book since then, and continue to read it today, thinking of Margaret as their contemporary. For the purists among you, I'm writing a novel now that takes place in the early 50's and you can be sure some of my characters will struggle with belts and pins.

This is Part One of a two part blog. Stay tuned --

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Key West -- I bought the purple jacket back in early April on a rare trip to Miami. I went to the only Mall I know in a city of malls (I've come to hate shopping, though I'm not opposed to having pretty things. I just want them to magically appear in my closet with no effort on my part, when I need them). Alas, that's not how it works. So I walked into a snazzy department store where I seemed to be the only shopper on a sunny Sunday afternoon and explained that I was looking for a jacket - dressy but not formal - and not black. Oh, and it had to fit really well.

As I walked around with Jane, the salesperson, I spotted the purple jacket. I have a thing for purple. (Yes, still!) Jane pointed out that it went with a dress but could be sold separately. Can't remember the last time I wore a dress. And a purple dress topped by a purple jacket would be too much even for me. But I slipped on the jacket and voila - it fit perfectly. And even in my cargo pants, t-shirt, and Mephistos I knew it looked good. Nevermind that it was way more than I'd normally spend -- with George asleep on the grass outside the store, and a long ride ahead of us back to Key West, I figured if ever there was a time for fast, but pricey, this was it.

I had no idea at the time I'd wear the purple jacket three times during the month of May, starting with the New Jersey Hall of Fame, then to the Authors Guild gala, and finally, to the White House. Yes, that White House. Had no idea why we were invited to this reception. The invitation said something about celebrating Jewish American Heritage Month. Who even knew there was a Jewish American Heritage month?

But any chance to go to this White House was a chance I wasn't going to miss. I was once invited for dinner during the Clinton administration, and, in my Good Girl Judy mode, sent regrets because I was expected on the west coast that day where a series of meetings had already been set up. When my son heard he was beside himself. Don't you know an invitation to the White House takes precedence over everything else? Okay. Now I know.

It was seriously hot and humid in Washington on Thursday afternoon (May 27). Too hot for the purple jacket. But I wore it anyway. We arrived just before three. Who knew we'd be standing on line sweltering in the hot afternoon sun waiting to get through security? But once we were inside, it was so worth it. We didn't expect to enjoy ourselves (expected only to enjoy the experience) but we did!

Abigail Pogrebin got it just right in this piece.


We met so many fascinating people, doing all sorts of interesting things. And the smart, spunky Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz from Broward County, FL was there (someone I'd wanted to meet since I'd seen her on TV almost every night during the presidential primaries). I'd read that this celebration was her idea. Thanks, Debbie!

For a humorous take on the afternoon check this out: Heeb Magazine

But wait a minute, Josh -- we didn't see any food. Not a cookie, not a cracker, or a strawberry dipped in chocolate, let alone London Broil. We thought that was one of the jokes of the afternoon. What do you feed several hundred Jews? Champagne!


While I know the First Lady was in the ballroom, as was the Vice Prez, I didn't lay eyes on them. Can't even tell you what Michelle was wearing. Those in the know gathered outside the ballroom doors early, waiting for them to open, and got the up front seats. By the time we entered the only seats left were in the back. We did see Obama but that's because he was at the raised podium and Danny Schayes (7 feet tall) finally sat down.

The absolute best part of the afternoon -- Regina Spektor played and sang for us. If you don't know her music check it out now. She is amazing. It was a thrill to meet her and find out my books helped her to learn English when she emigrated from Russia as a child.


Regina -- I am your fan for life!

And that's it for the merry month of May and the posts that tell the story.
Thanks for checking in.
xx Judy

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Key West -- During our three week whirlwind visit to New York and Boston, where we packed in more than I can even blog about, one of the most memorable events was being inducted into the Harvard Lampoon.

I am now officially a Vixen. And that's about all I'm permitted to say because it's all very secret.

When I paddle around this summer in a kayak that was christened Vixen back when Summer Sisters was published (remember Caitlin and Vix who called themselves Cassandra and Vixen?) I'll be thinking secretly, Hey, I'm a Vixen, too.

I can tell you this -- it was a dark and stormy night. For real. Buckets of rain and cold wind (so Boston). George and I were staying with Randy and when she saw the robin's egg blue leather jacket I was planning to wear, with the open work in back, she said, Kind of Michael Jackson for you, isn't it, Mother? Was it? Hmm... Wish I had a photo of the back of the jacket. I admit, it's outre, but fun to wear.

Both Randy and George came with me with the Lampoon's permission. They also were sworn to secrecy once we entered the castle. No kidding, the Lampoon is housed in its own castle on the Harvard campus. (Randy and George weren't with me for the official induction so only I know what really happened and I'll never tell except that it was dark and mysterious...)

For months I'd been emailing with Damilare, who extended the invitation on behalf of the Lampoon. I'd imagined a tall, exotic, female student. The truth hit me when I asked if the evening was to be festive or casual dress. Whatever you feel like wearing. It really doesn't matter, was Damilare's reply. Suddenly, I knew Damilare was a guy! No woman would say that to another woman.

And what a good sport he was when I told him my story. I love that this big, handsome guy grew up reading my books, already has book ideas of his own, and is part of the Lampoon. I think it's okay to say (at least I hope it is) that Courtney's parents met when both were on the Lampoon staff. I'll bet there were a lot of laughs around their dinner table.



Here's my official medal. So cool!



Thanks, everyone on the Lampoon staff, especially Damilare and Courtney.
xx Judy

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Key West -- 'Tis the season for graduations and this year I got to celebrate, too.





My commencement was at Rutgers and I got to wear a regal crimson gown and black velvet hat. I loved parading around in it.

George now calls me Dr. J. It's not my first honorary degree. That was at Mount Holyoke College -- see my commencement blog of Friday, May 29, 2009 titled SAT (For Better or Worse). But because I grew up in New Jersey, being honored by Rutgers has special meaning.

I have Susan Wilson to thank for this. Susie was my champion. She's the one who sparked my interest in Answer and Sexetc. Because of her I serve on the Advisory Board of this important organization which is part of the Center for Applied Psychology at Rutgers. Thanks, Susie!

But back to Rutgers and my memories of spending weekends there, bunking with students at Douglas College (Rutgers' sister school in the days when the two schools were segregated by sex), and going to fraternity parties with boys. I never learned to like the taste of beer but not drinking didn't stop me from having fun. (I'm sure I had more fun than the kids who got drunk and sick. Ugh!)

Who would have imagined then, that fifty years later I'd be back for an honorary degree? For anyone interested, below is a video.



And you know what the best thing about it was? I didn't have to give a commencement address. So I could relax, enjoy, and listen while Eleanor Smeal, former president of NOW spoke. She focused on the fiftieth anniversary of The Pill and how it changed the lives of women. Can you believe it's been fifty years?

I have no idea who gave the commencement address at my high school graduation in 1956, nor do I remember a thing he/she said. I remember only clutching the hand of my best friend, Mary Sullivan (lucky for us we were seated next to each other, connected by the alphabet - Sullivan and Sussman). Her hand was clammy. I think we wore white. I have no memory of receiving my diploma. And four years later, when I graduated from NYU, I skipped commencement. My diploma arrived by mail. I was married with a baby by then. I felt too grown up for graduation. Little did I know! Which is why, I think, all these graduations mean so much to me.

So congratulations graduates everywhere -- you made it! And now, another beginning. I wish you all the best.
Love,
Judy

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New York -- day 12 of our whirlwind visit to the city. But let's start at the beginning. The Miss New Jersey contest -- oh, wait! -- that's what George called it, but really it was the New Jersey Hall of Fame. What a night, what a hoot!

First there was the heat. The temperature outside was 90 plus that afternoon. The car picked us up at 3:30. The air conditioning worked for about 5 minutes then cut off. I don't even like air conditioning. I'm a person who rarely sweats. And I like to sweat, at the gym, or in my tap class --but not when I'm wearing my new purple jacket and an hour's worth of "natural" looking makeup, professionally applied. By the time we reached the NJ Performing Arts Center in Newark I was ready for a swim. Instead, it was red carpet time -- directly from the car -- no chance to use the restroom first. And if I thought it was hot inside the car, the red carpet with all those lights made it feel like a sweat lodge.

George denies he's the guy with me here -- says it must be my bodyguard. But we know better.

Soon Frankie Valli arrived and the crowd went wild. At the end of my final TV spot I sang to him.



Can't believe I did that in public!

Then, bliss -- the cool air of the lobby of the theater, and a glorious theater it is. An opera house that seats 2,000. I headed for the Womens Room where I stripped down, spritzed myself with water, and paper towel dried, praying my deodorant was still working. It was -- whew! I mean, Miss New Jersey with smelly armpits?! But this is probably more than you want to know.

Each honoree was assigned a "minder" (that's what they call them in the UK) -- someone to make sure you get to where you need to be when you need to be there. Only problem was, our minders weren't properly informed (no fault of theirs) so mine didn't know there was a dressing room for me, or a green room with snacks and drinks where the official photo of this year's Class was taken. I made it just in time. Beautiful Susan Sarandon, who was there, isn't in this photo. Maybe her minder didn't know either. That's Michael Graves in a Segway chair. Thrilling to meet him.

And not bad, being seated between Jack Nicholson and Frankie Valli, with Carl Lewis behind us, and one of my favorites, Danny DeVito, next to Frankie. I was disappointed that Philip Roth didn't make it. He is surely one of America's finest novelists. Not to mention that our mothers went to high school in Elizabeth together.

Each of us was introduced by a video.



OMG -- was I ever that young and earnest? And how about David Letterman and Tom Brokaw in 1980? But that narrator's voice! Makes everyone's life sound so, well, lifeless.


I was lucky to have the fabulously smart and funny Judy Gold as my presenter.

We met when I went to her play 25 Questions for a Jewish Mother.


Most moving moment of the evening -- widow of a police officer who was shot and killed on duty in Jersey City. He was acknowledged as a NJ hero. With three small kids, the youngest just a year old when her husband was killed, I'd say she's pretty heroic herself.

Funniest -- The Boss introducing Danny DeVito, then DeVito himself!

Four hours after it began the show ended. Even the Academy Awards don't last that long! As Jack Nicholson said at about 9:30 -- It's hard to give an after dinner speech when you still haven't had your dinner.

Something I've been thinking about -- from age 12 on I dreamed about living on the other side of the Hudson, which I finally managed when I went to NYU. For a long time I hated to be asked where I was from (wanting to be seen as someone more exotic?) though I never denied my Jersey roots. After all, N.J. was, and continues to be, an inspiration - so many of my books are set there, including the one I'm just starting. But lately, when someone asks where I'm from, I say proudly -- Hey, I'm a Jersey Girl! Ya wanna make something of it?

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Key West -- this adorable chick(en) in New Hampshire has been given my name, with my blessing. She's going to visit classrooms to promote reading.

This is what Wendy Thomas-- (as heard on NH public Radio and seen on WMUR Channel 9, Wendy has also been a guest on the Chicken Whisperer’s radio show and has been featured in Parenting NH, Backyard Poultry, Woman’s Day, and Reader’s Digest for her chicken stories and adventures in thrift) wrote to me:

When it came time to choose our “Judy Blume” chick, there was no discussion. The answer was obvious. Remember the smallest little Amberlink chick who got sick after one of her sisters died? The one that we put into a chick ICU box to keep her safe and warm? The little girl I held warm to my chest clucking to her softly, giving her encouragement to continue?

This is the chick that beat the odds and survived.

She is still the smallest of all her sisters but this little chick has spirit, pluck, and a heart bigger than all of the White Mountains in her new state. She’s independent, clever, strong, and still likes to snuggle down while you cluck gentle endearments into her ear.

Really, was there any other chick that would do?

It is with great honor and joy that I introduce to you the newest named addition to our flock: “Judy Blume”.

Here are the "Good Egg" questions Wendy asks before you get a chick named for you, with my answers.

Good Egg Judy Blume’s Interview

What is the best advice an older relative or family member gave you?

My father told me to live life to the fullest, to make every day count. I try to remember that.

If you were given one wish to use anyway you wanted, what would you wish for?

A decent life for kids everywhere, where they have hope for the future and can dream about what they want to be when they grow up, knowing that anything is possible.

If you were allowed the use of a large billboard over a well traveled road, what would you put on the billboard?

Reading will change your life!

What’s the passion that drives you to get up every morning?

My work — knowing that today could be the day it all comes together. Unless it’s a Friday — then it’s tap dance class.

What is your ideal dinner? What would you eat and with whom would you share it?

Pasta with fresh veggies, a crunchy green salad, and a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery (in NY) — served at home in Key West under a starry sky, with my husband George for company, and Ella playing in the background.

Do you have any favorite chicken stories or memories?

Since I live in Key West, where chickens roam freely and are protected by law – I have more than one chicken story. My favorite is the day my husband was at the Post Office. When he returned to our Jeep and opened the door he found a newly laid egg in the driver’s seat. He brought it home, cooked it and ate it! Everyone who lives here can tell you a chicken story. We’re probably the most chicken friendly town in the US.

Thanks for being such a Good Egg Judy!

Jodi Picoult and Chris Bohjalian, bestselling authors, also have chickens named for them. Wendy's chickens are egg producers. They will never be eaten. She promises they'll live the good life in rural New Hampshire. Well, they may have to go to school but they won't have to worry about their grades.

They'll just promote reading (and maybe egg laying?)


Speaking of class visits, I was able to visit two schools last week without leaving my desk, thanks to Skype. I love to meet my readers but when you have a hectic schedule and live in faraway Key West (and don't like to fly) Skype makes it possible. I spent time with a lively 4th grade class in Birmingham, Michigan, and with the students at an elementary school outside Louisville, Kentucky. All the kids had questions for me.

As more teachers get used to the technology I expect to make more classroom visits via Skype. We had some technical difficulties for sure. For a while all I could see of the Kentucky school was the ceiling in the cafeteria. And when I saw the video of the Michigan visit I found out there was a delay in my response to their questions. But it was still a very fun morning. And inspiring. Well worth the effort on all our parts.

Tomorrow we leave for almost a month in New York. I'm getting anxious -- not about leaving but about the last minute packing up and the event filled schedule that will keep me hopping. Stay tuned and I'll let you know about:

The New Jersey Hall of Fame
The Children's Choice Awards - there's still time to vote for your favorites
The Harvard Lampoon (where I'm being "lampooned")
Receiving an honorary degree at Rutgers University
Most Important of All -- Elliot's Graduation from High School!

Plus catching up with friends, seeing editor and agent, and taking advantage of all the city has to offer. Whew! I'm tired just thinking about it all.

Will try to post blogs along the way -- or at least tweets. Enjoy the merry month of May!

Love,
Judy

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Key West -- While I've been waiting for that How I Spent My Birthday video to come in, another month has gone by. So I will wait no longer to tell you I celebrated my birthday by tap dancing on stage with my class and our fabulous teacher, Bruce Moore (center). The other handsome fellow is Bobby Nesbitt, star of Key West's Lyrics & Lyricists series. The rest of us are -- well, you can see for yourselves -- a game group of new and/or former tappers. We rehearsed until we dropped (okay, not quite) and performed at the invitation of Randy Roberts, another Key West treasure, during his show at the Tennessee Williams Theater. And what a great show -- what an experience!


George kept reminding me, it's not how well you do it, it's that you do it at all -- but to me, it's about doing it well, thank you very much (we are not, after all, dancing bears). So I tap-tap-tapped out onto the stage, took my position, and froze! No kidding. I think I smiled and moved my arms but I realized during those first few time steps I wasn't actually tapping. I remember saying to myself, ohmygod, Judy, you're not dancing! I must have danced eventually but truly, I have no memory of it. Randy Roberts, who has seen the video, swears I was dancing but I have performance amnesia. Imagine that -- after all these years of giving speeches on stage. It was fear of forgetting the sequence of steps, I think, that gave me such anxiety. At one point I thought of writing the sequence down on my hand -- but once Sarah Palin wrote notes on her hand -- you were not going to catch me doing the same thing. No way. Next time I have the chance to dance on stage I'm going to remember it!

I'm celebrating today, the first day of the rest of my life, because Larry and I finally sent in the "polish" on the Tiger Eyes screenplay. Never, ever, have I wanted to be done with a writing project the way I wanted to be done with this one. We've worked for eight months, sending the script back and forth. But, I have to admit, with each draft it improved. And when I read the final draft I liked it (unheard of -- usually I'm so sick of what I've written by the time I send it to my editor I'm convinced it's the worst piece of drek ever!) I even cried at the end. Let's hope this movie actually gets made. After a break it will be time to get back to the novel I started a year ago. A year! I'm almost afraid to look at my research and notes.

Other thoughts --
Those of you waiting to hear from colleges have heard by now. I hope you taped your letters of admission to your wall and congratulated yourselves. I hope, if there was disappointment, you're over it. Rejection hurts. Always. But moving on feels good! And you're going to be happy wherever you go. There's no such thing as only one "right" school.


A note of caution --
Don't let senioritis make you crazy. I know it's tempting to feel like cutting loose now. (I have a grandson about to graduate, remember?) But when I was in high school a group of the smartest boys, all college bound, got caught up in a scandal that brought them and their families nothing but grief. One of them worked in the school office where he got his hands on the final exam (can't remember which subject). He made a copy, then shared it with his friends. Not sure how they were found out, but they were. The colleges who had already admitted them were notified, and most reneged. And how stupid was it for them to cheat, anyway?! These guys would have gotten their usual good grades on their own and would have gone off to their chosen colleges -- except for their failure to think of the consequences of their behavior. So have fun, sure! Enjoy your last weeks of high school. Just don't give up on thinking, okay?

And to everyone else, Happy Spring!
Love,
Judy

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Key West - they're at it again and this time right in my backyard at the Sugarloaf School, on Sugarloaf Key, about 20 miles from Key West on US 1. That's right -- a parent has challenged Forever, charging that distributing the book to minors is a felony under Florida law and that it also constitutes sexual harassment. Huh? She doesn't believe in censorship, she says, but she wants the book removed anyway. She's holding the librarian responsible, as a student checked the book out of the school library, then read aloud passages from it on a school bus.

And now, today, comes news from Riverside, CA that there's been a challenge to the dictionary for including the words oral sex. They're considering removing all the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionaries from classrooms. Gee, Forever doesn't even include those words. When I wrote the book in 1975 oral sex wasn't winning any Teens Choice award. No rainbow parties for Katherine and Michael. Katherine and Michael were in love, they acted responsibly, and now they're being bashed for it.

Update: The committee at the Sugarloaf School voted to retain Forever in its YA collection. Thank you to everyone on that committee who stood up for the students. And thank you to Joan Bertin and the NCAC for their thoughtful letter.

And can you believe this one? Barnes&Noble online has contracted with an organization called Common Sense to rate books for parents who have concerns about contents. Read a great post about this on Salon.com.

Margaret got the green light for kids 14 and up! Readers younger than 14 received the yellow light -- proceed with caution. Most kids are reading Margaret at 10. I can't imagine a 14 year old reading it for the first time. I wish parents could make these decisions for themselves, not depend on some rating system. Common sense is the tool every parent needs. Not an organization calling itself Common Sense.

Some people think the Common Sense website is fundamentally misguided, in creating categories that essentially label certain kinds of content “inappropriate” for kids under a specific age. I will have to check further but at this point I agree. And this isn't about only my books. Your favorite books might get a yellow or red light, too. It's all about fear, about not trusting your own judgment, and certainly not trusting your young readers to choose the books they want to read.

When my daughter was 12 she wanted to read Portnoy's Complaint, recently published and endlessly discussed in our family. She was a reader and she was curious. I suggested she wait a few years when it might make more sense to her but she really, really wanted to read it now. What to do? I gulped and told her okay, but to please come to me with her questions. She took it from the shelf and ran off with it to her bedroom. Ten minutes later she was back. Bor-ing! she said, putting the book back on the shelf. I knew what that meant -- there's something in this book that makes me uncomfortable. I don't want to read it.

Meg Cabot has also blogged about Common Sense and BN.com. Meg is the one who alerted me to the situation.

If it's true that BN.com has removed or revised the Common (Non)Sense info
for parents, as the Salon story suggests, then Yay! And thanks to all the writers who got involved (Sarah Dessen, Rachel Vail, Meg Cabot are three I know who took a stand). And thanks to Kate Harding at Salon.com. And to the librarians who've spoken out on behalf of young readers everywhere.

Next post -- soon, I hope! How I Spent My Birthday. And no, it wasn't blowing out all those candles on a cake.
xx Judy

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That's Happy Freezing New Year!

Yes, it's true. We're freezing in Key West. I know...I know...this is nothing compared to the rest of the country but we're setting some kind of record here. If not the lowest temps ever recorded it's certainly a record number of brrrrr days. You should see us -- everyone is in as many layers as they can come up with (and tank tops don't count). There's not a space heater to be had. Who knew my study had no heat? Who cared until now? So George has moved my computer to the kitchen counter (feels like the old days when I wrote my first books at the kitchen table on my college typewriter).The thing about cold weather in the southernmost city is that it's so unexpected. We don't know how to deal with it. I drive a '99 Jeep Wrangler and we took out the windows so long ago we don't even know where they are. Also, we just discovered, the heater isn't working -- not that heat would help much in an open car -- but still.

My only other source of transportation is my bike and I'm still riding it but pedaling into that north wind takes my breath away (literally). Please don't take any of this as a complaint -- I know better -- and probably in another week we'll be living in our tropical paradise again (please!) if not for our sake, for the manatees, who are suffering.

We had a lovely holiday with Randy, Elliot, and Larry. Amanda and Jim couldn't make it this year and we missed them. Here we are at breakfast at Sarabeth's the morning after Christmas. (Note: it's still warm!)


Randy prepared homemade pizza for New Year's Eve. Yum! Then she and I played Scrabble with the set she gave us and later we saw a movie. Larry went back to New York on the 30th and Elliot was especially sad until a friend with two granddaughters visiting heard he was in town and invited him to join them (here they are with their grandpa) to ring in the New Year watching Sushi drop in her red shoe from a building on Duval Street. He had a great time! As usual, CNN was there to capture it all.


Randy made a delicious fritatta for New Year's brunch, with homebaked buttermilk biscuits.

Elliot still had one essay to go on his final college application but managed to make the deadline -- midnight on January 1. Now it's nail biting time until April, though I don't think he's as nervous about it as his Mom.

They left on January 2 and that night six old friends of ours arrived in town. They're not staying with us but while they're here we want to see as much of them as possible.

We spent a week together in Mexico about 15 years ago and performed our version of an Esther Williams water ballet. I'm the only one without a bathing suit -- forgot mine and had to jump in the pool in my underwear. I'm also the only one with white goo on my lips to prevent a sun blister. What fun we had! Our Key West reunion is bittersweet because we've lost two of those beautiful women, both from lung cancer. But the rest of us are still kicking.

And last night, the Literary Seminar kicked off with Take a Poet to Dinner. This year the KWLS celebrates poetry, and especially the poetry of Richard Wilbur who lived here for many years. He'll be speaking on Saturday night. Can't wait to hear him. My poet for last night's dinner was Maxine Kumin , who had just arrived in town. She said Key West felt about as cold as New Hampshire. Now that's something! I'm sad for the poets and the 400 members of the audience who looked forward to a warm, sunny get-a-way.

As for work -- Larry and I are still slogging away at the screenplay (but not, I'm happy to say, slugging each other). I have to admit, it's frustrating. But I have the feeling it will come together eventually. Or maybe I'm just being optimistic. In any case, I'm longing to get back to the novel I started last spring.

Wishing all of you a Happy and Healthy New Year. Keep warm!
Love,
Judy

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Key West -- okay, so I'm not exactly Miss New Jersey. But I've just found out I'm in the 2010 Class of the New Jersey Hall of Fame. Does that count?

This is how I heard the news -- an early morning phone call from Bill Yankee, my friend and personal trainer in Key West --who always wanted to be the first, he said, to congratulate someone who'd made it into the NJ Hall of Fame. He found this wildly funny. You know, all those New Jersey jokes. (Bill is from Cleveland so plenty of opportunities to get back at him.) Hey, I'm in good company -- Philip Roth (our mothers went to high school together) and many others, including Jack Nicholson and Susan Sarandon (who knew they, too, were raised in the Garden State?).

Good thing I've never denied my roots. And why would I? I spent my first 37 years living in New Jersey. And my next book will take place in Elizabeth (my home town) in the 1950's.

(Here I am in 1956 with my sister editors of High Spots, Battin High school's paper. From left: Joanne, Judy, Mary, and Ellen. Mary and I were co-feature editors.)

But will I ever get back to that book? Since my last blog, and even before it, I've been working long hours on the screenplay for Tiger Eyes. Larry (my son) and I are collaborating on this project. We had a three day working session in Key West a few weeks ago, where we were joined by our UK producer. After presenting our first draft to her, Ilene had some good and very welcome ideas for us (kind of like working with a creative book editor). I'd already filled four notebooks with various drafts -- and that was before the official first draft.

I'm about to go into hiding again to tackle the next draft. Then it will go back to Larry for his input, and finally, to Ilene. You'd think this would be easier -- after all, I wrote the book, I know the characters, I like to write dialogue -- but it's not easy. So much of screen writing is about structure. Larry is good at structure. So is Ilene. I'm more about character. But all three of us want to see the best scenes, the scenes that tell the story on the screen -- and it's such an emotional story. A get-out-your-hanky kind of story. So we're fighting to keep the schmaltz out of it. I dislike emotionally manipulative movies, the ones that tell you how and when to feel. But I'm not opposed to a good cry, as long as it comes naturally, from the characters and their story. I'm thankful for Jason, Davey's little brother, who brings in some much needed humor.

So you'll understand, I hope, if I don't get to post another blog between now and the holidays, though I'll try.

George and I had Thanksgiving dinner with friends in Key West (Randy, Larry, and Elliot were together in Boston, and Amanda and Jim were in New Mexico) then drove up to Miami for a long weekend -- stayed in a hotel in South Beach and celebrated our 30th anniversary. Nice. Romantic. Seems like yesterday that we met in Santa Fe.

(Here we are 30 years ago)

Hope you were all able to enjoy your Thanksgiving weekends, too. I've discovered this year how much I love sweet potatoes.

Not the icky sweetened, marshmallowed recipes, but a simply baked sweet potato, cubed and tossed with whole wheat pasta, olive oil, parsley (lots of it) basil, and parmesan cheese. I'm not much of a cook but this is my latest favorite meal. Yum! And did you know, sweet potatoes are one of the best foods you can eat?

It's been ages since the NCAC event in New York in October but I promised I'd post photos and a video of some of our special performers. To see it all ncac.org.

Whew! That's a lot of catching up.

One more thing -- get well soon to SCBWI's beloved Lin Oliver who had emergency surgery a few weeks ago. If I know Lin, she'll be racing around before we know it.
Love,
Judy

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Yet Norma loved the simple life -- gardening, writing, family. She once told me she was giving her grandchildren old fashioned packages of clay for the holidays. She bemoaned the fact that modern children didn't know the joys of making things on their own, of creating from very little. I'd forgotten until then how much I'd enjoyed using clay of different colors as a child. How I would play for hours, pretending to be a butcher, lining up chickens and briskets and hot dogs all made from clay. Norma never forgot.


Norma was a no bullshit person. She was herself - always. When I heard over the summer that she was gravely ill, I didn't want to believe it. I wanted her to stay the same so that next time our paths crossed we'd wave to each other and she would smile that smile and we'd make a plan to spend time together yakking about everything. How sad that the chance for catching up is gone.


Goodbye, old friend.

Read the obituary below.

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New York -- The big event is approaching.

Monday night (October 19th) at City Winery in New York, the 35th Anniversary Celebration of the National Coalition Against Censorship with a show featuring fabulous actors, comics, musicians, reading from and riffing on my books. Am I anxious? You know I am. I've put away everything else on my plate to concentrate on finding the best passages to read, the funniest anecdotes and one liners from letters. And who knows what surprises the standups will have? So come one, come all! If you're desperate to attend but can't afford a ticket you can come just for the show. Go to citywinery.com for details. And if you can't manage that (it's a benefit after all and for a great cause) send me an email and I'll see what I can do. But no promises.

Check out Ayelet Waldman's email blast about the event.

If you can't be there in person I promise to tell you all about it.
Love,
Judy

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New York -- tell me it's not true! Tell me summer isn't over!

In case you're thinking Judy must have had the greatest time because she hasn't blogged in two months, think again. In my last blog I told you about a producer who was coming to the Vineyard to talk about a screen adaptation based on Tiger Eyes. Our meeting went well and the next day Larry and I sat down to talk about the screenplay and how we were going to collaborate. Flash forward two drafts -- and weeks of 12 hour working days -- and there's still a lot of work to do. Stay tuned...

Oh, did I mention stress? And how I got Shingles -- yes, that dreaded condition often associated with stress? I couldn't believe it. Thought it was a spider bite. Went to the walk-in clinic where a doc told me, Unequivocally, this is not shingles. Guess what? He was wrong. Luckily, I was seen by another doc the following day and got on the meds in time. I had just enough discomfort/pain to understand what a bad case could be like. Not fun. I'm telling all my friends (of a certain age) to get the vaccine. I meant to get it last spring. So much for good intentions.

Every winter in Key West I accept professional invitations for the following fall. I feel it's my obligation to my publishers and my readers -- you know, Get out there and show them you're still kicking! But this fall it's out of hand. Some people can handle all this easily. I find I can't - not anymore - and especially not when it involves writing talks, even five minute talks. This is crazy, because I've given a million talks. But it's stressing me out.
On Sunday George took a look at me (well, I was lying on the floor then, after a long day at the computer) and he ordered me to get dressed. The sun was shining and we were going to the park. Here we are in a rowboat. $12 and I felt I was in heaven. The greatest mini-vacation ever. Thank you, George! You're the best.

Yesterday I was at Yale, doing a "Master's Tea." This was fun. I like meeting with/talking with college students. I like an informal Q&A. And the students who came to the tea were a lively, interesting group -- mainly young women but a handful of guys, too. Last time I spoke at Yale was right after 9-11, a really tough time for all of us. But Yale has had a tough beginning to a new school year with the murder of a graduate student. Even though it wasn't a campus crime, even though it could have happened anywhere, it was shocking, painful, and unbearably sad. Especially hard on the freshmen, I think, who've just come to college, just started classes. But I know they're going to get through this. They'll be okay.

On Thursday George and I will head down to Washington for the National Book Festival. When I accepted this invitation I thought, Oh good -- a big party celebrating books! Well, yes - it will be that. But it will also be three days of interviews, signings, and talks. Every moment is scheduled. My first talk will be Friday night at the opening ceremonies. I'm honored to be one of five writers who'll speak at this event. President and Mrs. Obama are the co-chairs of the festival. I wonder if they'll be there in person? I hope so! If you're in the area, join us on the Mall! If not, I'll let you know how it goes.

Coming up on October 4 -- I'll be at Symphony Space in NY. It will be a family day celebrating books and readers and I'll be reading from Friend or Fiend?, the latest in my Pain&Great One Series.

The biggest event of the season for me -- a celebration of the 35th Anniversary of the National Coalition Against Censorship on October 19 in New York. There will be a show called Judy Blume & Friends, a night of comedy. We've got great talent lined up. Actors, stand up comics, musicians. If you're going to be in the city try to come. It's a benefit so tickets are pricier than say, seeing a movie, but what a good cause.

Banned Books Week begins on Saturday! Check out my last year's post, Don't Read That Book, of October 5. And READ a banned book. Support your local teachers, librarians, students and writers when a book comes under fire. Those who would censor rarely read the whole book. They take words out of context and try to scare the rest of us. Don't let them scare you!

Is this a great poster or what?

xx Judy

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Or, I could be reading in the hammock (I'm in the middle of a charming novel - Family Man - by Elinor Lipman.) And no, I've not been lolling about just relaxing. Remind me, how do you do that again? And I haven't been entertaining guests because so far we haven't had any -- unless you count family.

Let's see -- Larry's in residence (he works all day but he prefers doing it here). Randy comes every weekend after work. Elliot's been living here and working at The FARM Institute, baling hay and weed whacking and doing other things that require muscles, preferably young muscles. When he's not working he's off on the college tour.

Two days ago we took him to Providence, to see Brown. He liked it. He'll apply, along with 25,000 others. Can you believe that? 25,000 kids apply to Brown for 1500 places in the freshman class? Maybe it's that way at all the schools he's visiting. No wonder high school seniors are stressed. There was one mother on our tour who didn't stop asking questions. Our tour guide made a comment, she had a question. By the end of the tour I wanted to -- let's just say, shake her. I felt for her son who moved farther and farther away from her. Some parents ask about safety. I think it's mainly parents with daughters. We heard this at Columbia, too. I guess it has to do with fear of the city -- any city.

I find this all very interesting. It's especially interesting how the students don't talk to one another on these tours or at the info sessions. Most don't talk with their parents (or in our case, grandparents) either. I have to be careful. Randy told me to stand in the back of the tour group and warned me not to ask questions. The tour is supposed to be for the students. But I haven't heard any of the students asking questions. Of course everything they could possibly want to know is online and those who have done their homework have read up on each school he/she is visiting. Then there's the info session, where a college admission officer (at Brown she was young, enthusiastic, adorable, a cheerleader for the school) tells you everything you already heard on the tour, or are about to hear on the tour. She saves the admissions process and how they reach their decisions until the end, maybe the last three minutes. That's when she tells you about the 25,000 other kids who are applying with you.

Still, I had never seen Brown or spent any time in Providence. We got to have lunch with an old friend who teaches history there. He's the husband of a young writer friend of mine. They actually met when they were students at Brown. Sweet, as Elliot would say. I find myself saying this all the time now. I also find myself saying That was easy! because a friend of Larry's gave him that push-the-red-button gadget from Staples and when you do, a deep voice says, That was easy! George and I can't help ourselves. It's the perfect answer to everything. Except maybe being accepted to college.

George is in Key West this week to oversee the construction process of the 4th screening room at the Tropic Cinema. He was down two weeks ago, too. He's more than excited. He loves what he's doing. He wishes he were in Key West for the summer. I joke, "I'll see you in October." But I know he'll be back at the end of this week. Then we'll say, That was easy!

Tomorrow Larry and I will be meeting with a producer who's coming to the Vineyard to talk about adapting Tiger Eyes for the screen. Larry has always wanted to direct a movie version of Tiger Eyes. And of all my books I think it could work well. This would mean we'd have to write a screenplay over the summer (and as I've already pointed out, summer is almost half over). Because of this I haven't looked at the novel I was researching and starting to write before we left Key West. Earlier I thought it would be a productive summer -- that I'd be sitting in my little cabin working away -- that I'd even have a good start on a first draft by summer's end. But a month has gone by and here I sit (in my writing cabin, mostly answering e-mail). This is starting to depress me. Not seriously. But a little. If we're going to write the screenplay, then let's get to it! Okay, I'll know more tomorrow after our meeting, right?

Did I say that I flew to Chicago for the annual ALA convention? And I didn't get sick. Imagine that! Flying around in the summer is easier on your sinuses. Fewer colds and coughs. Plus Randy has taught me to carry Chlorox (or any other brand) wipes with me and to use them to clean my tray table, arm rests, even headrest. I know this sounds anal or something but if you saw what came off (the amount of dirt, etc) you'd do it, too.

The new modern wing of the Chicago Art Institute was the setting for the gala dinner honoring Judith Krug (see my April 14, 2009 blog). A bittersweet night. Judith would rather have been there than be memorialized. In presenting the award to her posthumously I told the story of the jacket and how, now, thanks to her family, that jacket hangs in my closet. I got almost to the end before I broke down. Judith would not have liked that. Or maybe under these circumstances she'd have been okay with it. Who can possibly fill her shoes? There's no one like her.

I also got the chance to meet Florence Parry Heide at the Random House dinner. She was celebrating her 90th birthday with a new book coming out. (She wrote The Shrinking of Treehorn, a deliciously funny book that my kids enjoyed, and many many kids since then). I asked her if writers ever get to retire. She looked at me and said, Never! And I hope you never think about it again. I had a million questions for her but there was no time to ask them. She was as lovely, clear-eyed, and witty as I imagine she's always been.


And that brings me to tonight's dinner. What shall I make for Elliot? Maybe pasta. Then I can push the red button and hear That was easy!


Hope you're having, if not an easy summer, at least a good one.
xx Judy

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MVY -- We spent three weeks in New York between Key West and Martha's Vineyard. The weather may have been dreary but the city certainly wasn't. Arrived at our apt (after a weekend in Baltimore) on a damp Saturday night. Took me half an hour to realize my travel purse was missing. It contained my wallet with driver's license, credit cards, iPhone, a couple of prescription meds, a can of Simply Saline, a tube of Polysporin ointment and whatever else I'd managed to stuff into its many zippered compartments. I was also carrying a black shoulder purse, a garment bag, and had a small wheelie in the trunk of the cab.



I remembered the story a caterer once told me - of how she'd left a beatifully decorated platter of crudites in the trunk of a taxi. At the time I'd thought, What a ditz!

George dialed my cell phone and left a message while I called the taxi commission to report my missing travel purse. They gave me two phone numbers where taxi drivers can turn in packages/purses/etc. They reminded me always to ask for a receipt when getting out of a cab, or at least to make a note of the taxi number, listed on the back of the front seat for all passengers to see. You'd think this was my first time in the city.

I called the train station, thinking I could have left my purse on the train, because George was with me and he paid for the taxi, which means I wouldn't have needed my wallet so wouldn't have noticed my travel purse was missing. But the very nice woman on the other end of the phone said the train I'd traveled on had already been sent to the yard for cleaning and wouldn't be available for a search until Monday morning.

By now more than an hour had gone by. We were about to cancel my credit cards when the phone rang and a guy asked if we were missing a gray purse. He said he'd found one exactly where the taxi had dropped us off. He was coming off work at a neighboring building and there it was, in the street. He took it with him on the subway to Queens and when he got off he saw that a recent call had been made to my iPhone so he called back. He offered to return the purse the next morning at 11am in front of the Barnes&Noble (how fitting is that?) on 68th St and Broadway, near the subway stop. George told him there would be a reward and asked for his name. Bernard, he answered.

Was this for real? We went out for breakfast the next morning, stopped at the ATM for reward money, then planted ourselves in front of B&N. I expected a guy wearing my bag over his shoulder for easy identification. But the young man who approached us was carrying an Abercrombie shopping bag. He recognized me from my photo ID. He gave me my purse. I hugged him and gave him the reward. He explained the purse must have been run over because the can of Simply Saline had exploded so he'd thrown it out before it soaked everything. We chatted for a while about his summer job, working in one of the big apartment houses right near mine. I said I'd like to write a letter to the board of the building where he was working, commending him.


Later I told my story to one of the doormen at our building who said he knew everyone working at the building where Bernard was working for the summer. The next day he reported there was no one named Bernard working there. Either way, and wherever he works, Bernard is my hero and I'd give him a reference any day. Thanks, Bernard!

This should be the end of the story, right? But ten days later I did it again. This time I was carrying the small black purse in the photo above, getting out of a taxi at exactly the same place. Got up to our apt and realized I had no key, which meant - oh no - I had no purse!

When I was about 14 I lost my key so many times my father (who'd had enough of me coming home and ringing the bell after he and my mother were asleep) punched a hole in the corner of my wallet and attached my key. Since then I've hardly lost anything. Really. And I've never forgotten anything in a cab. Well, maybe a cheapie umbrella, but who hasn't?

I was tired, embarrassed, and angry at myself when I called George at the office and told him I'd done it again. But George actually sounded pleased because he'd just signed up for an iPhone tracking system and now he could try it out. He dialed it up while I was still on the line. Aha! It's in midtown, on 48th St. But wait...now it's.... And that's when he clicked the fatal button. It not only ended the tracking program, it "wiped my phone"(meaning no data and totally dead).

This time we knew I was cooked. I'd had my Florida driver's license with me but just one credit card which George promptly cancelled. Yes, my key was in the purse but there was no NY address or phone number. That was good. It meant we wouldn't have to call a locksmith to re-key our apartment. By now I had a headache and I lay down to rest.

An hour later the phone rang. It was my literary agent's assistant asking if I'd lost my purse. What?! She gave me a phone number and the name of a guy to call. When I asked how he'd tracked me down he said he'd found my driver's license, googled me, went to my website, found my agent's name and number and called her. This guy was as good as Nancy Drew! I told him I'd come to his place (he lived on the Upper East Side) to retrieve my purse, but he volunteered to drop it off at my building since he had a meeting in my neighborhood (Upper West).

My headache lifted. Things like this just don't happen, do they? Twice in three weeks?

I waited outside while the doormen guessed what kind of car he'd be driving. We were all surprised when a vintage red Porsche pulled up in front of the building with a cute dog in the passenger seat. (Okay, I admit I didn't know it was a vintage Porsche.)He got out of the car. I almost knocked him down with a big hug (actually, he was a lot bigger than me and there was no chance of me knocking him down). He pulled my purse out of the car. He'd found it in the street on 39th St as he was boarding a bus. He'd tried my iPhone but couldn't get it to work (thanks to -- ta da! --the "wipe" button). We chatted for a while. He refused any reward but accepted a signed book for his 19 year old daughter.

Another hero! What a city! Am I lucky or what?

On the Vineyard I bought myself a summer bag, one that practically screams to be noticed. George says it's the ugliest purse he's ever seen. He says if he has to look at that all summer he'll be nauseous until Labor Day. I said I'd get another and give this away if he feels that strongly about it.


It's been a couple of days now and I don't see any signs that he's feeling sick. His appetite is just fine. He ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich for lunch.

I have to travel to Chicago next week. The ugly bag won't be going with me. A friend suggests I pin my purse to my underwear instead. Stay tuned....
xx Judy

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Key West -- It's that time of year for those of you who will be applying to college in the fall. You have to take them. You have no choice (well, almost no choice). But look at it this way. You can't possibly do as poorly as I did. (More about that in a minute.)

A few years ago I was asked to give the commencement address at Mount Holyoke College. Usually I think long and hard about accepting such an invitation. But not this time. From the moment their invitation reached me I didn’t think twice. They had no way of knowing this, but they'd given me a second chance.

To explain I have to take you back to 1956 when I was a senior at Battin High school in Elizabeth, NJ, the only all girls public high school in the state. When it came time to apply to colleges I knew next to nothing about the different schools, though I’d heard there were a lot of boys in Boston and boys were high on my list (but that's another story). I knew very little about the College Boards (SAT) either, except you had to take them. We didn’t have Kaplan courses or coaches to prepare us then, and our teachers never mentioned them.

I can still remember that sunny Saturday morning in May when my mother dropped me off at the Pingry School, site of the dreaded test. I remember opening the booklet and reading the first paragraph of the first essay. I remember it not making any sense to me. I read it again, or tried to, but by then my heart was pounding, my mouth, dry. The words on the page began to blur together. I had a fantasy of getting up from my seat and calmly walking out of the building, calmly walking away from Elizabeth, NJ.

Instead, I flipped through the test, the panic inside me rising – then I picked up my number 2 pencil and filled in all the little circles at random. No kidding. I really did that. When the test results came in my high school guidance counselor, who had never spoken to me before, called me into her office.

“You have to take the College Boards again,” she told me. “You’ve got the grades. You’ve got the activities. But I want you to go to Mount Holyoke and you’ll never get in with this score.” (I think it was something like 350 -- that's probably as low a score as you can get -- which is why I don't recommend random answers.)

The only thing I knew about Mount Holyoke was they required the Afternoon Boards. (That's what we called the achievement tests) so I told the guidance counselor, “Never – I’m never taking any of those tests again.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

Cut to that invitation from Mount Holyoke. When I read they had the funding to try a different way of identifying students who might do well there -- that for three years they weren't going to require standardized test scores -- I knew I was going to give that commencement speech. And when I did I told them why that day meant so much to me. It wasn't just that I was there at last – it was that today I might even be accepted as a freshman. I thanked them for that on behalf of all of us whose minds work differently. I got my honorary degree and that day remains a highlight of my life.

I've been arguing against judging prospective students by their SAT scores for years. Doesn't test creativity, doesn't prove how well a student will do at college or at life.

So why am I kvelling (beaming, swelling with pride) that my grandson has just received his SAT scores and they hit the top? (He would not be happy if I told you his actual scores.) Partly because it's amazing to me that anyone with at least some of my genes could come up with scores like these. Especially in math! He actually likes standarized tests.

My husband says -- "You, of all people, Judy -- who've railed against these tests for years -- how can you be so impressed?" Sorry, George -- can't help it. I know it doesn't predict how you're going to do at real life. I mean, Amanda hated the SAT almost as much as I did. She graduated from U New Mexico and guess what? She's a huge success at life and has a thriving career as a political consultant. Much in demand. Nobody ever stops to ask how she did in her SAT.

I cut a story by Sara Rimer out of the New York Times on Monday, September 29, 2008. The headline reads:

Study of Standardized Admissions Tests Is Big Draw at College Conference

5,500 college admissions officials and high school guidance counselors gathered in Seattle at the annual conference of the National Association for College Admission Counseling. The main event was William R. Fitzsimmons's first public presentation of the findings of the Study of the Use of Standardized Tests in Undergraduate Admission. Basically, after he said the SAT had many advantages, he affirmed that they and other standardized admissions tests are "incredibly imprecise" when it comes to measuring academic ability and how well students will perform in college.

I'm sure the debate will go on for years. I have to thank NYU for accepting me as a student despite my dismal scores (and Boston U, and Syracuse). I was a good student. So is Elliot and I know he'll do well wherever he goes. Those scores of his may mean he has more options and it's always good to have more options. While test results don't tell the whole story (and he knows that) I'm a grandparent first, so I'm entitled to celebrate, right?

Which brings me back to the SAT. A stressful time for many of you, I know, especially today when everything might depend on financial aid. But try not to worry. If you want to go to college, if you're determined, you will. And you'll enjoy it, wherever you go. Wishing you well.
xx Judy

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Key West -- I still think of Mother's Day as a holiday celebrating my mother, my grandmother, and my Aunt Frances. When I was young all three would get orchid corsages and and we'd go to dinner at the Tavern Restaurant in Newark, where my father knew the owner. (Actually, everyone knew the owner, but I was just a kid and didn't know that.) It's funny, because I'm writing about the Tavern now, in the novel I've just started. As for orchids, they grow everywhere in Key West (which doesn't make them any less magical). When they're done blooming in a pot, just snip off the stem at the fourth joint, tie them to a tree, and they'll bloom for seasons to come.

I realize my children and grandson have different ideas of Mother's Day. Randy likes to shop and I don't -- or let's just say I like pretty things but I don't like going into stores, so unless it's easy to find, forget it. This is why Randy sends me something to wear each year. On Friday her package arrived with a lovely and delicate summer sweater. I talked to all four of my dear ones on Sunday (well, maybe talked is the wrong way of putting it because I have total laryngitis -- can't make a sound -- not fun, though I don't feel at all sick).

Larry told me he was sending a donation to Planned Parenthood this year because he'd seen the fund raising letter I'd signed suggesting that this would be a good way to honor your mother. (I've pasted a copy of the letter.)

How did such a gentle letter become the major brouhaha it did? Ask the vocal anti-choice crowd. I shouldn't have been surprised when the hateful e-mails flooded our office computer the next day saying things like....

You're killing off your customers.

You'll burn in hell.

You are a baby killer.

Then there's this argument in various forms:

-- I was a great fan of your books, growing up. They meant a lot to me but now that I know you support Planned Parenthood I would never let my childen read them. I'm going to tell our school principal, the librarian, and the teachers they should boycott your books, or burn them.

I want to ask these parents if they check to make sure all the books their children are reading are written by people wh0 support only those organizations and charities that they personally support. But I don't. I don't respond to hate mail.

It might have stopped there if Planned Parenthood hadn't sent out a second e-mail blast -- letting their supporters know I was under siege. They meant well, I know, and I'm the one who gave them permission, not stopping to think that this would fan the flames.

The next day, another story appeared in the anti-choice online zine, and along with another round of hate emails, came hundreds of supportive messages from those who believe in Planned Parenthood. Somehow word got out that I'd received death threats and the media jumped all over the story. The bloggers and twitterers were all abuzz. To set the record straight, I didn't get any serious death threats. Sure, there were emails reminding me what happened at this or that abortion clinic -- but this isn't the first time I was a target of the extreme right.

Despite what some people think, Planned Parenthood isn’t an abortion clinic. It is a health center that provides people with the proper tools to make the best, most informed decisions for them. It’s a place that offers breast cancer screenings, pelvic exams, pregnancy testing and planning, affordable birth control, STD testing, HPV vaccines, testicular cancer screenings for men, as well as issues of male infertility, education for all, and, yes, choice. Sometimes that means abortions.

May also is Teen Pregnancy Prevention Month. Surely the best way to avoid abortion, and reduce the numbers of unwanted babies born to teen mothers, is through sexuality education. But to those opposed to anything but abstinence education Planned Parenthood is well, evil.

As a college junior, about to be married, I asked my family doctor who to call to get information about birth control. He suggested Planned Parenthood, although it had a different name in 1959. I trembled as I made that call and ultimately hung up before I'd set up an appointment. I'd had a bad experience with a gynecologist at 14. At 21, I was still a virgin -- fear of pregnancy kept many of us virgins in those days. We had other ways of being sexual but we avoided intercourse, knowing if you got pregnant you were going to have the baby, like at least three of my high school classmates, smart girls who nevertheless found themselves pregnant before graduation. Abortion was illegal then. They were forced into hasty marriages and while the rest of us went off to college, they became parents before they were ready.

Ultimately I went to a doctor in NJ who knew my family doctor. He fitted me for a diaphragm and I went off on my honeymoon without the fear that I would become pregnant before we were ready to have children. There are many reasons I wish I'd gone to Planned Parenthood and not to that sexist doctor, who, it turns out, was a religious fanatic himself. Reasons I won't go into here. I wish I'd known then that at Planned Parenthood women are treated with respect.

When I read the Planned Parenthood online teen Q&A I feel glad that today's young women and men have a place to go to get information. I wish it had been there for me.

So Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers out there, and grandmothers, and special aunts, and thanks to all of you who sent messages of support. There are times when you have to stand up for what you believe in. It means a lot that so many of you stood with me.

xx Judy

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Key West -- Starting today (and for the next two weeks) I'll be answering questions and responding to comments on Randombuzzers.com Join me there if you can. I'm looking forward to it. It should be fun. Of course I won't be there 24/7 because I've started to actually write my new book. For a month or more I've been doing research, a process I've enjoyed. The real writing part isn't that enjoyable. At least not yet. Right now I'm wishing I'd never started. I'd forgotten how impossible first drafts are for me. George tells me I say this every time I start a new book. Maybe. I find myself thinking, thinking, thinking about my characters all day -- except for tap class (which is Friday and Saturday mornings). In tap class I'm always trying to make my feet do what my mind wants them to do. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm never sure what sounds my feet will make until Bruce, our teacher, calls on us individually.



I'm forcing myself to sit at my desk for a couple of hours every day, even if all I do is scribble in my notebook. Scribbling is how I get my best ideas. I think I have the voice of my first main character. There will be three characters telling this story -- at least that's what I think. I don't know much more than that. Stay tuned...

Did I mention I was bitten in the leg by a friend's small dog two weekends ago? The dog didn't like me twirling around the dance floor with his master, or do we say mistress if the master is a woman? Or do we say human or person? He bit right through my stretch capris. It was a very small bite and has healed nicely. And the night before that I was hit in the face by a flying nut from a walnut tree. I know -- it sounds funny -- but it didn't feel funny. My grandmother would have said, "Bad things happen in threes." (And it's true, I did turn my ankle on a balance box at the gym the next day.) Which takes me back to the subject of my book where bad things actually do happen in threes.

I'm thrilled to hear that Summer Sisters has just been published in the UK and so far the reviews and comments have been really good. I have to remind myself how many times I wanted to quit while I was writing that book. And how glad I am now that I didn't. The one to the left is the UK cover. The one on the right is the US cover.


Key West is totally gorgeous right now. At night you can catch the scent of jasmine. I love to sit outside listening to music for an hour after dinner. How lucky am I to spend 7 months a year here! See you on Randombuzzers, I hope.
xx Judy

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Friends of intellectual freedom have lost a dynamic leader. Judith Krug, director of the American Library Association's Office of Intellectual Freedom since 1967, and one of the founders of the Freedom to Read Foundation, was my hero. When I saw her in Chicago last September, she said, "Don't worry about me. I'm too mean to die." That was her fierce warrior persona. That was her let's laugh about this and talk about something else way of dealing with her illness. She had had surgery and chemo for stomach cancer but there she was, cheering us on -- a group of writers gathered to commemorate Banned Books Week, an event started by Judith in 1982. There she was, fighting for the rights of young readers as enthusiastically as ever. I teased her for wearing what I called a "Sarah Palin" jacket (actually, a jacket I coveted and even tried on in NY before realizing that all the jackets in my favorite sportswear section of my favorite department store were the very jackets Sarah was sporting on the campaign trail). Judy begged forgiveness explaining that she really wanted that jacket and we laughed together.

We met in Atlanta in 1982 at a Fred Friendly Seminar moderated by Benno Schmidt, then a colleague of George's at Columbia Law School. I was nervous. Out of my element. I felt as if I were back in 4th grade praying the teacher wouldn't call on me. Benno did call on me and I stumbled through a couple of answers then watched in awe as the articulate speaker on the opposite side of the table said exactly what I was thinking, only so much better. I remember thinking, Wow, she's brilliant! She can speak on my behalf anytime. That was my introduction to Judy Krug, and the beginning of a long friendship, both professional, and personal. It was hard to say "no" to Judy when she asked you to do something, even if you didn't want to fly to Chicago in September because you were trying to write a book. Because Judy would always be there for you if you needed her.

This is the woman who defended what we wrote, who defended the librarians who selected our books for their collections, and most importantly, who defended the rights of our young readers. For four decades she used her abundant energy and knowledge to protect the Constitutional rights of citizens granted under the First Amendment. She raced around the country speaking out wherever and whenever she was needed. Let's just call her amazing, because she was.

"We're the only country in the world where everybody has access to the library and everything in it," she told The Washington Post in 1994. "If you don't like something, okay, tell your kids you don't want them to read it. That works. It really works. Every once in a while, the kids are going to defy you. But so what?" That quote is so Judith! It's part of why I loved her. Like Madeline, my first literary heroine, Judy Krug showed no fear.

The loss to our community of writers, librarians, and readers everywhere is too great to contemplate. The loss to her husband, children, and grandchildren is even greater.

On Sunday, July 12, at the annual ALA convention in Chicago, Judy will be posthumously awarded the William J. Brennan Award during the 40th anniversary celebration of the Freedom to Read Foundation at the Chicago Museum of Art. Judy hoped she'd be there to accept her award in person. I hoped so, too, and not only because I'll be presenting that award to her. If you can, join us in this tribute to a true freedom fighter.

Goodbye, old friend. I'll miss you.
Judy

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Key West -- it's good to be back! Isn't that half the reason we go away -- so we can appreciate how good it feels to be home again?

This is how lucky we were --just missed some brutal spring storms in New Orleans. And those of you who know me know I'm phobic about thunderstorms. Like a frightened dog, I need to be in a small space and low to the floor. We didn't have a dog at our hotel in New Orleans but we did have Clarice, the hotel cat.

We were there to see old friends, Richard and Annie, and what a good visit we had. Annie gave us a tour of the city, focusing on the areas that were hardest hit by Katrina. After our tour we sat down at Cafe du Monde to try a New Orleans beignet. At first I was skeptical. After all, they're made of fried dough -- but as George pointed out, I love doughnuts (yes, but am always sorry after indulging) -- but these were something else -- light and incredibly delicious, topped with powdered sugar.

From New Orleans we drove to Hattiesburg and Southern Miss (for those who don't know, as I didn't until a few days ago, that's what the locals call the University of Southern Mississippi) for the Fay B. Kaigler Children's Book Festival. George and I were invited to stay at the President's house and now I understand what southern hospitality really means. Dr. Saunders and her staff couldn't have been more generous and welcoming. Plus I got to spend time with Pat Scales, uber librarian, and defender of intellectual freedom.


Also enjoyed being with Arthur Yorinks, who's as witty in person as he is in his books. Check out Hey, Al, and you'll see what I mean.



You want more luck when it comes to weather, how's this? On Thursday, the day of the medallion presentation (I joined an impressive list of former winners for lifelong contributions to the field of children's literature, some of whom inspired me when I was starting out, so was really thrilled and very appreciative) -- but back to stormy weather -- the radar showed two major storms, one on each side of Hattiesburg. Each time George checked, the storms were moving closer and closer. We heard that schools were dismissing students at noon, adults were scurrying for cover, and as we pulled up to the theater where I'd be speaking, the sky turned black. You think I was nervous about my speech? Not compared to what was happening with Mother Nature. I imagined stepping up to the mic just as the power went out. I'd be alone on stage in darkness, lightning flashing all around and...and....

But the presentation went as scheduled, I received my medallion from Southern Miss Provost Bob Lyman. I'd sent a smiling photo for the engraver but teeth weren't his specialty, so he artistically closed my mouth. When I had to come up with an idea for the reverse side of the medal I thought about my most autobiographical book, Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, which takes place in Miami Beach, and how, these days, when I sit at my desk in Key West I look out at my tropical garden. So palm trees made sense.

I not only survived my talk, I even enjoyed myself. And when we left the building an hour later, the sky was blue. The storms had converged north of Hattiesburg. Can't tell you how relieved I was! Off we went to the book signing at the campus B&N. Signed for the next two hours.

After a party that night, we packed up, and the next morning at 7:30 left for the airport (a two hour drive to New Orleans) but with Pat Scales along for company it felt more like 15 minutes. Pat and I will be together again at ALA in Chicago in July. Children's book people are a friendly group. It's good to hang out with them -- makes you proud to be a part of their world.
xx Judy

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Key West -- What a week!

Meg Cabot and I did a gig for the Friends of the Library. We decided we'd ask each other questions on stage, so we went to lunch a few weeks ago and made a list, but didn't tell each other the answers. We wanted to be surprised along with the audience. Meg was a great interviewer. She jumped in and asked almost all the questions. After I answered I'd turn to her and say, What about you? Then she'd say a line or two and ask the next question. Mostly, we talked about our journeys as writers, and our process. When Meg asked, Are you a plotter or a seat-of-your-pants-er? I admitted I'm definitely a seat-of-your-pants-er. That is, I don't carefully plot my story first. As I write I get to know my characters. I can count on them to lead me the rest of the way. The best part of writing for me is the surprise -- and my characters always surprise me. Meg said it's pretty much the same with her. We had a great audience who had their own questions to ask.

And in the first row of the audience was my grandson, Elliot and his girlfriend, Emily. They'd just arrived to spend spring break with us. Since Elliot loves Meg and Benjamin we all went out to dinner together after the event. That was SO much fun!

The next day George and I took Elliot and Emily on the Danger (that's the name of the sailboat, not the event). We went kayaking, snorkeling (them, not me -- I don't like putting my face in the water).


At the end of the week Elliot said it was the best vacation he'd ever had. Hey...that's high praise coming from a grandson. Okay, so it wasn't because of me ( as you can see) but still... We all enjoyed ourselves and each other.
















On the day Elliot and Emily left, part of the Cooper clan from Baltimore arrived for two nights. They got to play tourist during the day but we all had a yummy dinner at Blue Heaven. (Save me from their Key Lime pie!)



Before they left Matthew and Jessica, with the help of Levi and Reed, finished the 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle Emily and Elliot started but didn't have time to finish.















In case you're wondering what I've been doing since then -- (no, I haven't taken to my bed although it was a tempting idea) -- I've been preparing my talk for U. Southern Miss next Thursday. They're giving me a medal and I'm giving them the story of my life as a writer (more or less). Will let you know how it goes.

Tomorrow George and I leave for New Orleans, where I've never been! Three nights there, then Hattiesburg (and Southern Miss) another place I've never been. Really looking forward to this break before I settle in to work on my new book idea.
xx Judy

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