I will be moderating the following authors this weekend, March 9th-10th, at the Tucson Festival of Books: Elise Broach, Maxwell Eaton, Jennifer Holm, Nancy Krulik, Joanne Levy, Stephan Pastis, Adam Rex, R.L.Stine, and Linda Urban.

Aren’t I lucky? If you have questions you would like me to ask them, please let me know by commenting.

Add a Comment

I wasn’t sure I would like e-reading. Give up on paper and ink books? As if it were an all or nothing decision.

It isn’t. Really, it’s just another way to read.

But anyway, I had run out of bookshelves*, and also, I read a lot**, and when I travel, I don’t want to check my suitcase because when you do that you risk it being lost and showing up a day late when you are staying on an island and then you don’t have a bathing suit***. And so I could either pack clothes or books in the carry-on suitcase…

I would have mostly chosen books, but I’ve noticed that people object if you wear the same clothes over and over and over.

I still prefer real paper and ink books, but my e-reader works out great when I’m traveling. Right now I’m in Los Angeles, having flown out to see my daughter direct the musical “Little Shop of Horrors” at Caltech.****

After months of testing and reading Consumer Reports, I bought a Nook Simple Touch, which was also the cheapest e-reader. I called it the Nook Complicated Touch for awhile, because it seemed like it was idiot proof, but it wasn’t. I had to go back to the store to get it to take my email and password. And then, my husband had to find and download a software patch so that I could use it with our home WiFi. It took him almost three hours to figure out, and believe me, he is no idiot.

All the Nook Simple Touch does is let me read books on a black and white screen. No checking email, no playing games (not that I do that anymore). I check out some of the books from the library, but the library doesn’t have enough e-copies of books, in my opinion. So I judiciously buy some books before I go on a trip, preloading it. And I can always buy more, as long as I’m not in the Australian outback.****

I wish the Nook Simple Touch had a built-in English/Spanish dictionary. When I was reading The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Urrea, I wanted to look up the Spanish words. I could guess at their meaning, but I wanted to know for sure. They seemed like useful insults.

You know what? Maybe I should buy an English/Spanish dictionary for my Nook Simple Touch.

Sometimes I amaze myself with my ingenuity.

* Seriously, and my husband says I can’t have more bookshelves. Meanie.

** I have six (6!) library cards

*** Always pack the essentials in your carry-on. This message brought to you by United. Motto: “We always lose your luggage!”

**** It shows next weekend, too, Friday at 8:00 pm and Saturday at 2:30 pm in Ramo Auditorium. Please call the Caltech Ticket Office at 626 395-4652 to purchase tickets. Wonderful creepy fun!

*****Actually, you can buy books in the Australian outback. You just need an internet connection.

Add a Comment

On Saturday, I head to Los Angeles to catch the production of “Little Shop of Horrors,” the musical my daughter Miranda is directing at Caltech. It’s a fun show, featuring a man-eating plant. Most productions rent the plant, but Caltech students built theirs, and you know it’s going to be awesome. The musical has a great score and lots of laughs. It runs this weekend and next. Ticket information here.

This same daughter became engaged on Valentine’s Day. My future son-in-law had a little help from actor and writer Stephen Fry playing Cupid. Stephen had auctioned a tweet for the Elephant Family, which protects Asian elephants and their habitat. You can see the sweet tweet here.

Add a Comment

There are a few days left to register for Saturday’s 5K Fun Run/Walk, which benefits MAKE WAY FOR BOOKS and the Pima County Public Library. Register here. Rumor has it that The Cat in The Hat will make an appearance, as well as other beloved children’s characters.

The Tucson Area Reading Council is running a poetry contest for kids, called Blooming Poets. Learn more here. The deadline is March 15th.

In the coming weeks, I will be heading out to present at Sycamore Elementary School, the Arizona Young Authors Conference, Painted Sky Elementary School, Pueblo Del Sol Elementary School, St. Michael’s Parish Day School, and Santa Clara Elementary School. I’ll also be Skyping with the students of R.A. Mitchell Elementary School in Alabama!

The Tucson Festival of Books is coming March 9th and 10th! I won’t be presenting, but I will be moderating two stellar panels this year, the first on Saturday with Jennifer Holm, Maxwell Eaton III, and Nancy Krulik. The second is on Sunday with R.L. Stine, Adam Rex, and Stephan Pastis!

Add a Comment

"You are like one of the best writers I have known."

Possibly, I am the only writer you have met, but I’ll take it.

"I like when your parents gave you the newspaper and you ate it."

Did you know that newspapers are printed with special ink made of crushed up vitamins?

"I liked when you said that you improved your writing when you got older."

I hope I will always improve. I know I'll always try to... The thing about writing is you don’t have to retire, ever.

"I enjoyed when you read us the story. I think you did a good job."

Thank you. I practiced by reading out loud to my dog.

"I like books that you write. You make me like to write books. I hope you could write more fun books."

Aw! You're so sweet!

What would you have done if you weren’t an author?

This is a hard question, because my life would be quite different if I hadn’t chosen writing, and it’s hard to imagine that different life. But I suppose I can, because making things up is sort of a requirement for being a writer. I like children, and I like helping others, so I would guess that if I couldn’t be a writer, I would have been a teacher or a children’s librarian. Maybe even an astronaut if I can trade in my near-sighted eyes. Can we arrange that?

It’s a funny thing how writing can change your life. I used to be quite shy, and I didn’t say much in school. I’ve met so many interesting people because I became a writer, and I’ve done so many things that I couldn’t have pictured myself doing when I was younger—like volunteering in Nepal.

Writing has made me brave.

Best wishes,
Jennifer J. Stewart

Add a Comment

Swamplandia! by Karen Russell was so perfect, that I had to start rereading it. You go read it, too. I have her other books—short story collections—on reserve at the library.

I also read another novel set in Florida, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was the only book mentioned in Amy Hill Hearth’s Miss Dreamsville and the Collier County Women’s Literary Society that I hadn’t read. If you haven’t read Zora Neale Hurston, there is a hole in your life that this book will fill.

If you’re in Tucson, you might like to sign up for Altrusa’s Laps for Literacy 5K Fun Run/Walk. Rumor has it a certain children’s author will be dressed as The Cat in the Hat… I don’t know who that would be. I don’t know any children’s author who loves dressing up in costume.***

Another Tucson event—I’m attending the keynote tomorrow—is a three day FREE conference, Victory Over Violence.

I released If That Breathes Fire, We’re Toast! as an e-book, joining Close Encounters of a Third-World Kind. You can buy them at Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. Bestselling author Rhody Cohon did the formatting for me.

Finally, my daughter Miranda is blogging! If you’ve ever wondered what the life of an aspiring director/model/actor is like, she’ll tell you.

***I am a big fat liar.

Add a Comment

I used to hate to shop for clothes. They may be featured in magazines on skyscraper tall models, but the clothing in stores usually doesn’t fit the lankier frame, i.e. one like mine. I’m an inch shy of being a six-footer. Two of my three daughters are six footers, and the youngest is not so shrimpy; she’s five foot nine.

But now I love to shop, because it’s fun! The four of us have discovered thrift stores and consignment shops. Prowling these outlets becomes a treasure hunt, except you don’t really know what the treasure is going to be until you lay your hands on it.

Rarely do I go into a store with a goal in mind; I flip through the racks, usually going up and down a size. Women’s sizing is not standard, and one maker’s size 8 will be another’s 10. The cut of the garment also matters.

Something I’ve noticed is that the more expensive clothes—that is, they were expensive to begin with—are more likely to fit me. I’m not sure why this is, but I’ll take it. Especially if the original tags are still on the garment, which happens more often than you might think.

Some recent acquisitions:
BCBG Max Azria dress, perfect for two holiday parties
Louis Feraud red dress, perfect for a fancy holiday party
Calvin Klein blue cotton dress, which will be great when the weather warms up
Vince Camuto striped silk dress, just for fun
Talbot’s jacket, woven with my favorite blues and greens, good with nice jeans
Lauren Ralph Lauren jacket, black and white herringbone
Lucy workout top
White House / Black Market shrug—not sure what I’ll wear this over yet

And what’s wonderful is if you try on the dress or the shirt or the sweater at home and notice something off-putting about it, that you didn’t notice in the store, well, there is scant remorse, considering the price you paid. You return it, or you donate it back to the thrift store—most of them are operated for charity, after all, so this is what I prefer to do.

If you bought something with a tag that says “Dry Clean Only,” because you did not pay a pretty penny for it, you can take a risk and hand-wash it. I haven’t ruined anything yet by ignoring that label.

These are my favorite haunts in Tucson: Assistance League, Casa de Los Niños, Goodwill (Tanque Verde location), The Green Monkey, Salvation Army (Tanque Verde location), and The Teal Saguaro (new!).

I still have to buy shoes and most jeans and pants new, but on-line, because I have big feet and need a longer inseam. I’ve rarely gotten lucky with pants.

P.S. In case you are wondering, I buy most of my books new, or check them out at the library.

Add a Comment

So, it’s the second day of 2013, and I’m blowing the dust off this blog. *Cough* I’m not sure I have any readers left, because I haven’t been reading other blogs or commenting on them, or obviously writing in this journal. I know I set up a way to aggregate all the blogs I was following (perhaps in google reader, I think?), and then promptly forgot about it. Well, actually I hurt myself running, and pain has a way of making you drop some of the balls you're juggling. I’m better now, but my physical therapy regimen keeps me busy.

Okay, it was that kind of year, a recuperating kind, because I had elective surgery in the summer. But for others, it was much worse, and I am blessed in comparison, and I have absolutely nada to complain about.

Anyway… there’s always a bit of an organizational frenzy going on in the early days of a shiny new year. I’ve been rearranging my office, hauling books to the library where they can find a new home or be sold to benefit the Friends, totaling up my business mileage for 2012 (most of it driving to and from the library), and eyeing the tax form I need to fill out for book sales (not actually filling it out, mind, just letting it sit there and taunt me). Tomorrow seems like a good time to tackle it.

I don’t really have any resolutions for 2013. I know I intend to read more. Recent favorites include The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Urrea, Sacred Hearts by Sarah Dunant, The Truth About Style by Stacy London, and Where’d You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple. I’m currently rereading Football for Dummies because the Broncos are in the Play-Offs!

On the nightstand are Elizabeth George’s first young adult novel, The Edge of Nowhere, Miss Dreamsville and the Collier County Women’s Literary Society by Amy Hill Hearth, and Swamplandia! by Karen Russell.

It looks like it’s going to be a good year. I hope yours will be, too.

Add a Comment

I am looking forward to a new project, which will almost certainly be a novel, once I finish revising the current one. So the back of my mind is noodling about what that could be, but I won’t allow the front of my mind to think too hard about it. Yet.

Because right now, I’m in the middle. Or is that in the muddle? Of revision. I’m figuring out what to keep, what to dump, using as my filter this question: Is it advancing my story or not? Is the theme/hook front and center? And the whole thing about making sure I have one.

P.S. For anyone who fancies herself or himself a patron of the arts, my oldest daughter will be directing an indie movie next year, if the funding needed for production costs comes through kickstarter. I was privileged to read the screenplay by Benjamin Klema, and it’s a wonderful, character-driven story.
P.P.S. If you’ve been watching SyFy’s Face Off series, my daughter is one of the models. Check her out in the "Pirate Treasure" episode. She’s the one with anemones in her hair and daggers stuck through her rib cage.

Add a Comment

It has been a long hot summer. Okay, it’s Arizona, so that’s pretty much a given.

It’s also been a waiting summer. In June, I had surgery on my leg, and I waited to recover. Waited longer than I wanted to. Complained about it a lot. Watched Bollywood movies. Read until I got tired of reading.

And I’m still waiting, actually, because I’m not completely back to normal, but now I ignore the discomfort and go to the gym. I have a feeling the discomfort will be with me now.

Anyway, turns out that if you don’t go to the gym for a month, you lose ground. So, to make up for that, I am doing a beginners running workout, which I found in the Australian edition of SHAPE magazine. In eight weeks, I might be able to run non-stop for 30 minutes. But first, I have to be patient. During the first week of workouts, I walked for three minutes, and ran for two, repeating until it added up to 30 minutes. Second week, I will progress to two minutes of walking, three minutes of running. And rinse and repeat.

I feel a lot of things are conspiring to teach me patience. In the children’s book business, there is a lot of waiting, and I have a tendency to go squirrelly while waiting. I wish I didn’t, but there it is.

Then the dog showed up, a few days before the 4th of July. He hung out in our front yard, in the desert to the east of our driveway, and I could see him from my kitchen window. He was big and so skinny you could count every rib. I put out water for him. He ran off into the desert. I put out food—cat food, I didn’t think he would care—and he ran off into the desert. But later, from the kitchen window, I watched him come back and eat it.

His den is under a hackberry bush. A few feet away, he keeps a slowly decomposing foreleg of a deer, as far as I can tell, his only nourishment unless he gets lucky with roadkill. Maybe he took deer leg from a mountain lion kill.

So I began feeding the dog, morning and night, and talking to him softly, telling him what a good boy he is, and that he didn’t need to be frightened of me. And little by little, he started trusting me.

Now, in the evening I sit on a sun-warmed stone and offer the dog treats. And after some careful circling, Hobo will come and eat them from my hand.

He won’t let me touch him yet, although he touches my hand with his mouth, and once he licked my palm.

Hobo teaches me patience, and maybe, I am finally learning. I don’t really call him “my dog” yet, although tomorrow it will be September. Maybe when he lets me stroke his ears… they look soft.

I just have to be—you guessed it.

Add a Comment

Getting your driver's license is a rite of passage, a laminated ticket proving that someone at the DMV trusts you to operate a moving vehicle. You press pedal to the metal and speed off all by yourself, feeling sexy and free, even if it's only your parents' Toyota Corolla you're driving.

Getting behind the wheel of a minivan is a rite of motherhood, and there is nothing sexy about it. Mine was a 1996 Plymouth Voyager. It was a big white box for transporting children, and I nicknamed her "Lurch." That first morning, when I backed her out of the driveway, all three small daughters in their own individual seats, not able to touch each other, I knew peace. Until the youngest, who had begged to be allowed to drink from a juice box, gagged on the straw and threw up grape juice all over herself and the new upholstery.

Labor day Weekend, my husband and I loaded up Lurch and went camping, listening to Pippi Longstocking on the way to the Chiricahua National Monument. My youngest and I flew back in a helicopter, after that Swedish minx suggested it was okay to eat mushrooms you found in forests.

Fast forward a few years, and I caught my daughter drawing on the walls. "You can't draw inside," I told her, "but you may decorate Lurch's outside." I handed over the bathtub crayons. She drew colorful winged cats, fairies, skulls, and whatever caught her fancy. When I tired of the designs, 409 would take them off, and she would have a fresh canvas. For years, I would notice strangers eyeing me at stoplights, but it was really the zebra on my minivan they were admiring.

Piano lessons, riding lessons, horse shows, gymnastics class, play rehearsals—there was nowhere Lurch wouldn't go. And as I waited for whichever daughter to be done with whatever activity, I wrote three novels, sitting in the back seat, which still smelled faintly grape.

The children grew, they learned to drive, and finally the last one left for college in the fall. She wanted a car, and I said she couldn't have one, unless she wanted the minivan. She declined. She had graduated from painting Lurch's panels to painting murals around town, ones no one takes 409 to.

Over the years, Lurch racked up the miles, 186,894, to be exact. And she began failing, bit by expensive bit. First the packrat chewed her wiring. My husband backed her into a pole. The A/C sucked Freon and was single-handedly destroying the ozone layer. Finally, the ABS could not be fixed, the windows wouldn't roll down, the radiator leaked. I couldn't trust Lurch more than five miles from home. I knew it was time.

I arranged for her to be donated, with auction proceeds going to Habitat for Humanity. It seemed appropriate. That is what she had been for us, our home away from home.

Farewell, Lurch. You've hauled precious cargo.

Rust in pieces.

Add a Comment

I’ll be at the Hollywood Fringe Festival this weekend, catching two new one act plays, “A Part” and “Funeral Party.”

My daughter, Miranda Stewart, is directing!

Details here, if you live in or near Los Angeles.

Add a Comment

I always have to have a book to read. And I’ve been reading some good ones lately:

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins—Okay, this is one of those classics I always meant to read, but never got around to until now. Collins’s The Woman in White was eminently readable, and so is this, and so much funnier. The first narrator, Betteredge, is a devotee of the novel Robinson Crusoe, and given to reading from a random page when he is flustered. This novel was the first detective story ever written, and the characters really do leap off the page.

One for The Murphys by Lynda Mullaly Hunt—I fell in love with this book on the first page, when Carley is leaving the hospital with her social worker, who has told her to quit messing with the car door lock. And Carley thinks,

I love it when people use the word please but they sound like they want to remove your face.

This middle grade novel will make you laugh and cry, and sometimes both at the same time.

Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher—Carrie Fisher is funny, a poster child for Bipolar disease, descended from Hollywood royalty, and not afraid to dish the dirt on her somewhat effed-up life. This is a quick read which will leave you laughing.

The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save your Life and Our World by John Robbins—I heard Robbins speak recently, and if his name sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because he was heir to the Baskin-Robbins ice cream fortune, until he walked away to devote himself to bigger social, ecological, and political issues. The hunger chapter really opened my eyes.

Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World by Lisa Bloom—Lisa Bloom is passionate about taking a stand in the world, and to do that you need to free up your time to be book-smart, then get around to changing the world. I admit that since I read her book, I've visited the New York Times on-line, and am thinking about a subscription, since you only get 10 free articles a month.

The next book on my nightstand is Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Against Wind and Tide: Letters and Journals, 1947-1986, edited by her daughter Reeve Lindbergh. On the flap copy, the title is attributed to Harriet Beecher Stowe, “who claimed that writing, for a wife and mother, is ‘rowing against wind and tide.’”

In my CD player for gym use is Stephen King's 11/22/63, which should keep me going on the elliptical machine and the treadmill. It will probably help me lift weights, too.

Add a Comment

It’s lovely to go on vacation and loll around reading—I don’t get to do it often enough, meaning I don’t get to devote four hours a day to it normally. Obviously, I read every day. Here are some of the books I enjoyed recently:

Believing the Lie by Elizabeth George—Lynley and Havers—what more could you want? If you love mysteries, this is the one series you have to read.

Deaf Sentence by David Lodge—He hits the proverbial nail on the head when he writes that blindness is tragedy, while deafness is comedy (“Smoke Gets in Your Ears” anyone?), although really, it’s no less heart breaking. It’s a wonderful book to savor, and you will understand what it is really like to become hard of hearing. Lucky Jim grown up.

Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler, illustrations by Maira Kalman—I didn’t want to break up with these characters. I demand a sequel. Pretty please? This is the kind of book that makes me not want to start reading another book, because it probably won’t live up to this one. I know I will, but still.

I need to choose a book to read for my next Book Club season. Any literary suggestions? The other members kind of object to 900 page novels, although I’ve done it before.

Add a Comment

I was reading this article in O Magazine’s March issue, and was dismayed to recognize myself. Yes, dear reader, it appears I am a book hoarder. In Walsh’s terms, that makes me a knowledge hoarder.

If I had an e-reader, it wouldn’t be as obvious that I have an overflowing bookshelves problem, I suppose. I could still collect books, just in a teeny tiny format. But they wouldn’t add to the R-value of my walls. Books work as insulation, don’t they?

But they do take up a lot of room in my suitcase, as I am recently back from vacation. While I was away, I read Elizabeth George’s latest Lynley and Havers novel (Believing the Lie). Her novel could be used as an actual door stopper, not that I would ever ill-use a book so. I think I have seen the light—the actual lightening up—of bringing along an e-reader when traveling.

Also, carry-ons have shrunk, which makes me think I should shrink my traveling books.

Add a Comment

When you are noodling around, trying to come up with an idea for a new writing project, you get a lot done at home. I am frequently the Mistress of Disorganization, but not this week. Here are some of the things I got accomplished. Go, me!

Recycling—Magazines, begone! Catalogs, begone! And I even removed all the staples with the stapler eater. However, I think I now might have carpal thumb syndrome.

Catalog Choice—I got added to many mailing lists when I subscribed to magazines when I redeemed expiring airline miles. Also, my late mother, who did not have a computer or really understand what everyone was doing on the internet, received every catalog known to womankind. Because I forwarded her mail, now they all come to my house. Anyway, Catalog Choice is a wonderful site that will take you off mailing lists. So, farewell Appleseed’s and your old lady clothes, Auf Wiedersehen Brookstone, bye bye Chasing Fireflies, goodnight Garnet Hill (you should make clothing in tall sizes), don’t darken my doorstep anymore Norm Thompson and your old lady clothes, and aloha Title Nine (you should also make clothing in tall sizes).

Cleaned my house—La la, I hired a cleaning gentleman to do it for me.

Found the top of my desk—After much excavation and filing, it appeared. It would be nice if the universe would arrange a book deal for me, so that I can donate the successive drafts taking up space in my filing cabinet.

Add a Comment

Me: “I don’t want to work on this book anymore. I’ve gone through 10 chapters.”

Conscience (aka janni):“You have 45 minutes until your meeting. Just do 10 more pages.”

Me: “But I printed them single-spaced!”

janni: “Okay, do five pages.”

[Not feeling it…thinking about a cookie instead, except secret writers and illustrators hangout has stopped carrying snickerdoodles... for which they suck... because I could totally have done five more pages if they had my favorite cookie...]

Me: “I know—I can blog!”

Add a Comment

Well, you had to be there! I was, for the fourth year in a row, not a presenter this go round, but a VERY enthusiastic attendee. Plus, I got to moderate the presentation by Mac Barnett and Adam Rex about their picture book, Chloe and the Lion, so how lucky am I? Except, they did not do anything to cause me to blow my incredibly loud referee's whistle... Okay, I am a little disappointed about that.

I came home with books autographed by Mac Barnett, Phil Bildner, Jack Gantos (yes, with a shiny Newbery sticker!), Kadir Nelson, Adam Rex, and Cynthia Leitich Smith. Somehow Megan McDonald and Larry Dane Brimner managed to escape me. Well, I know where Larry D.B. lives.

P.S. Before the festival began, I completed my second unfinished novel, and pushed SEND to my secret agent to get her thoughts, which earned me gelato, courtesy of Janni Lee Simner. Today is catch up day, and mulling over what to write next.

Add a Comment

It’s a bright shiny new year, and I am ready to tackle the second unfinished novel I have had sitting on my desk. It is dated February 24, 2011.

I didn’t know it then, but that day was the day before my mother died unexpectedly, followed by two more unexpected deaths—my developmentally delayed aunt and my cousin—in April and May. I even lost my funny sweet dog to cancer.

It was a hard year, and I rejoice that it is over.

So yesterday I read the manuscript, and the comments my husband made, and I inked in a few notes myself. It’s going to get another reading, so it’s thoroughly ensconced in my brain, and then—wait for it—well, I’m going to finish it.

I think that will be the first gift of 2012.

Add a Comment

Okay, it only feels like I'm going to die when I do my taxes. You would think that someone who has an MBA would not sweat the small stuff--the transaction privilege tax form for the state of Arizona--but I do. However, thanks to my beloved husband of many years, I have a spreadsheet, which conjures all the numbers for me to plug into the form (yes, I say "conjures," because it feels like magic). Said beloved husband also watched over my shoulder as I inked in all the figures.

And so I am done! And it didn't take all afternoon, either. Hurray!

Add a Comment

On February 18th, in Tucson, Altrusa International, Inc. of Tucson is sponsoring “Laps for Literacy,” a 5K Fun Run/Walk at Reid Park to benefit MAKE WAY FOR BOOKS and The Pima County Library Foundation, to assist them in putting on their annual Story Town event. You can register by clicking here.

There is no registration fee, but if you can raise $100, you will get a souvenir Laps for Literacy T-shirt!

P.S. There is a rumor going around that a certain children’s author will be dressed as The Cat in the Hat…

Add a Comment

No, it isn't a medieval one. I'm having lunch with a writing friend today, and afterwards, perusing the shelves of the bookstore. I have a feeling I'll come home with a book or two or three...

Add some writing, and that's pretty much a perfect day for me, actually. What's yours?

Add a Comment

No, it has nothing to do with Valentine's Day being yesterday.

In between all the revising, rewriting, and general tearing out my hair I've been doing, all to get my novel ready to be seen, I've been reading. And just one of my favorite laugh out loud moments comes from Stephen Fry's The Fry Chronicles: An Autobiography. I had read his earlier volume, Moab Is My Washpot, which covers his childhood and extended adolescence, so I was eager to get my hands on this one.

Here's the passage, which is found on page 248:

I worried that I was going to have to be primarily a writer. Why worry, you ask? Well, although it is true that one feels fantastic when one has finished a writing task, it is mostly horrible while one is doing it. You will see therefore that writing, ghastly at the time but great afterwards, is exactly the opposite of sex. All that keeps one going is the knowledge that one will feel good when it's over.

There is something very Oscar Wilde and very true about that quote.

Add a Comment

Now that Season 2 of Downton Abbey is over, I suspect I will have more time to read, and perhaps less time to obsess over the fate of Lady Mary and Matthew. Although I still have a novel to finish, I’m happy to report that I may have fixed the plot-holes yesterday afternoon. It required ingesting lots of fudge that my husband made me for Valentine’s Day, because chocolate helps my neurons fire. Or so I tell myself. My plot-hole patches aren’t neat-looking, so that’s what comes next, to smooth them out. So I suspect that the novel and the keynote speech I need to write for the Arizona Young Authors Conference in Casa Grande on Saturday, on going to duke it out this afternoon.

Here’s what I have been reading lately:

Chloe and the Lion by Mac Barnett, illustrations by Adam Rex—Yes, it isn’t out yet, but I have connections, and this is my favorite book of the year (and not just because Adam dedicated it to me). It is so funny and you have to read it. I will reveal no more, except that I think that this author and illustrator could team up to write Solar Bear: The Polar Bear Who Wanted a Tan and make it work.

Extra Yarn by Mac Barnett, illustrations by Jon Klassen—From the first line, you know it’s going to be good, and it stays that way right up until the perfect ending.

To Be Sung Underwater by Tom McNeal—I found this (grown-up) novel through my book club. It’s a rare male author who manages to depict a teenage girl and a grown woman (the same character) without anything ringing false, but McNeal does it. And it’s a fantastic love story as well.

Wonder Struck by Brian Selznick—Quieter and not as flashy as The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Selnick’s best known book, but amazing on its own and no less intricate. As soon as I finished it, I began reading it again from the beginning, because I didn’t want it to end.

Add a Comment

On Saturday, I got up at 4:45 in the morning, and headed for Casa Grande. I was to give the keynote speech at the Arizona Young Authors Conference, and then lead three groups of schoolchildren in a writing workshop on description. My fellow presenters were Lynne Avril, Sigmund Boloz, Rhody Cohon, Marianne Mitchell, and Conrad Storad.

I had obsessed over my speech, and even written out note cards to go along with each of my PowerPoint slides, but when it came down to it, I didn’t even look at them. It appears that I am like one of those dolls, that when you pull the string in her back, she starts talking. So that was fine.

Then came the workshops. To really get into writing description, I had come prepared with seashells, three bags full, which my small and medium-sized relatives had collected for me on the beach. My sister-in-law had warned me I should wash them, and give them a bit of a bleach bath. Probably I should have done this when I first got them. But I let them sit on my backyard picnic table for seven weeks until Friday morning, when I thought, oh, I guess I should wash them. Only, it turns out, that when you wash seashells, and then you close them up in bags, perhaps not being completely dried out, that when you open those bags, there is a truly horrible smell.

Yes, dear reader, I reconstituted the stink. I found myself apologizing to the kids and their educator-handlers, but then I said, you know, this will make your descriptions even better. I got words and phrases like this: smelly, stinky, smells like feet, smells like shrimp on ice at the Fish Market. So the stink was not all bad.

Well, okay, it was *really* bad.

I also showed the kids this quotation from Oscar Wilde: “I am a ship without a rudder in a night without a star.” Once they had guessed what Oscar W. was getting at, I challenged them to come up with something similar, but they couldn’t use the word “lost,” anything to do with boats, or the nighttime. Not easy for some of them at first, but I got lots of interesting metaphors, and one girl came up with “I am a book without a reader.”

Perfect.

I really hope the kids remember to set their shells outside, and don’t leave them sealed in their backpacks.

Add a Comment