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My friend June English once wrote a book about the world’s most dangerous jobs. Not surprising, writer and editor were not on the list. I always figured these were jobs I could do my whole life with no threat of occupational injury, except maybe from my adventures as an intrepid researcher. But lo-and-behold, I had surgery last Friday for a threesome of injuries that were very much the result of my years at the computer: carpal tunnel syndrome, tendonitis, and trigger thumb.

As surgery goes, it wasn’t so bad. Half an hour in the O.R., followed by a few days of fatigue, and 10 days with a bandaged hand that I’m supposed to keep dry and use gingerly. There’s only fleeting pain when I move my hand the wrong way, but hopefully that will disappear once the incisions have healed. Likely to be more long-lasting is my diminished sense of invincibility. Suddenly I’m human just like everyone else. Despite 15 years of steady gym workouts, my 50+-year-old body is beginning to need tune-ups and replacement parts.

My hand really started bothering me in February, after I painted my dining room and spent hours polishing the long-ignored brass light fixture, but I’d been experiencing numbness and weakness in my grip for years. Once the problems were diagnosed, I invited my friend Robyn over to examine my work station. Robyn is an occupational safety and health expert who spends her career educating people about how to avoid work-related injuries. She took one look at me seated at my desk and shook her head. “This is all wrong,” she said. “The keyboard should be lower. The monitor should be higher. When you sit in your desk chair, you should sit up straight with your spine against the back of the chair. You need to change your set-up or the carpal tunnel will come back.”

It was a traumatic visit. I wrote close to a dozen books at my stylish oak and brass desk, but there’s no way it could be fitted with a computer tray and therefore, no way it would be up to Robyn’s standards. So I went shopping. I bought a Herman Miller ergonomic Mirra chair and an L-shaped desk with an articulating keyboard/mouse shelf. The Mirra does encourage me to sit up straight and fits me much better than my previous large, cushioned chair, though I’m almost sure it won’t be as comfortable to fall asleep in. The desk just came yesterday, so I haven’t tested it yet for comfort and functionality. My folks, who helped pick it out, certainly have high hopes. My mom already told me that with such a nice, new, large, expensive desk, I should be able to win a Newbery. (I told her a Sibert might be a more appropriate goal.) In the meantime, I just hope I can continue to write without re-injuring my hand. But just in case my new, ergonomic desk is more practical than inspirational, I’m hanging onto my old desk as well. It sits across the room, relegated to holding my fax machine and copier, a symbol of the reckless days of my youth.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for the Summer Olympics to get underway next Friday. Of course, I may have more invested in them than the average fan. I’ve written two books on the Olympic Games (Swifter, Higher, Stronger, about the Summer Games, and Freeze Frame, about the Winter Games), and most of my books focus on sports. But it’s not just the athletic competitions that fascinate me. It’s also the personal stories of the athletes, the stories that exemplify the interaction of sports and society and the impact of the Olympics beyond scores and finishing times.

One such story that already has surfaced involves Dana Hussein Abdul-Razzaq, an Iraqi sprinter who seemed to lose her opportunity to race when the International Olympic Committee (IOC) suspended Iraq’s National Olympic Committee due to interference by the Iraqi government. A Shiite athlete with a Sunni coach, Hussein is a symbol of unity in a divided land. As the only woman on the Iraqi team, she is also an example of the triumph of drive and dedication over a society’s oppressive rules and unsettled political climate. Fortunately, negotiations last Tuesday between Iraq and the IOC cleared the way for Hussein and one teammate to compete in Beijing. The truce came too late for five other Iraqi athletes in sports whose registration deadlines already had passed.

You can bet I’ll be watching the women’s sprints to see how Hussein does. I’ll also be watching swimmer Michael Phelps, who most certainly will break the record for the highest cumulative total of gold medals won at the Summer Games, which is nine. He already has six from 2004. Phelps also has a shot at beating Mark Spitz’s record for the most gold medals at a single Games, which is seven. His teammate, Dara Torres, has a golden opportunity to make a splash by winning a gold medal at the ripe old age of 41. She wouldn’t be the oldest female gold medalist—that was 53-year-old Sybil “Queenie” Newall of Great Britain, who took the gold in archery in 1908. But Torres already has nine Olympic medals (four gold, one silver, and four bronze). Adding anything to that total would be icing on the cake for her and an inspiration to all of us over-40 (and over-50) gym rats.

Each of these athletes would be a terrific subject for a kids' biography that explores the factors which drove them to excel. A different kind of book could be written about one of my favorite Olympians, the perennial silver medalist Shirley Babashoff. A swimmer at the 1972 and 1976 Olympics, Babashoff netted a total of two gold medals and six silvers. In 1976 alone, she came in second four times to East German women. To Babashoff, the extraordinary improvement in the Germans’ times, added to their surprisingly masculine appearance, suggested that they were enhancing their performances with steroids. And she said so to anyone who would listen. Her complaints earned Babashoff a nickname—“Surly Shirley”—and no end of criticism in the press. Years later, when the Berlin Wall fell and the records of East Germany’s widespread doping became public, Babashoff was vindicated. But the IOC never stripped the East Germans of their medals and Babashoff never received upgrades in the races she should have won. Her story would be a great jumping-off point for a book on doping in sports.

I'm looking forward to seeing what other interesting developments will materialize in Beijing this month.

When I started out writing for kids on Scholastic’s magazines, I used to dream of finding one subject that I could claim as my own. I wanted something I could sink my teeth into, gathering research and interviews and finally, writing an original book that reflected my intimate knowledge and my passion for the topic. It was a dream that came true. After a few false starts, I found my subject on pages 131-132 of a book called First of All: Significant “Firsts” by American Women, by Joan McCullough. The short write-up highlighted “The 1^st women’s baseball leagues,” focusing primarily on the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL) started by Philip K. Wrigley in 1943. As a long-time baseball fan and women’s history major, I was astonished that I had never heard of the league. The day after I found that notation, I got on a bus and headed to the college library closest to my home (at Jersey City State) to start collecting everything I could find about the league.

That was in 1981, and after writing articles about the AAGPBL throughout the 80s, I finally finished my book, A Whole New Ball Game, in 1993. By then Penny Marshall’s 1992 movie, A League of Their Own, had piqued the public’s curiosity about the All-American, and teachers and their students in particular embraced the chance to learn the true story of these pioneering women. After 15 years, the paperback edition of the book is still in print, and the kids’ volumes on the subject could fill the better part of a library shelf. I’m proud that there’s now a literature of the league, and that its story is included in a number of American history textbooks as well.

Yet my association with the league didn’t end when my A Whole New Ball Game was published. During my book’s long gestation period, the former players I had interviewed became friends, and they welcomed me at their reunions. I had joined their Players Association as an associate when it was formed in 1987, and in 2000 I accepted an invitation to run for the board of directors. After six years as secretary, I am now co-chair of the Vision Committee, the group delegated with the responsibility of suggesting what should become of the organization and its assets when the remaining players, now in their 70s and 80s, are no longer around.

While by-the-book journalists might balk at a writer becoming part of the story, I think my book is better because of the connections I made doing the research. There’s no question that I am a more confident writer—and a stronger person—as well. Next to my family, my friends in the Players Association are my biggest fans. If it wasn’t for pitcher Fran Janssen’s prodding, I might never have finished my oft interrupted biography of Nellie Bly (due out from National Geographic in Fall ’09). And without the examples of Fran and countless other risk-taking women from the league, I might not have left the security of a staff publishing job to stake out a career as a freelancer in 1999.

Several years ago, at an AAGPBL player reunion, Suzy, a woman about my age, rushed up to tell me that my book had changed her life. After reading it, she'd contacted some of the players I mentioned and then followed their suggestion that she come to the reunion. Since that time, Suzy has become an integral part of the Players Association, running for office and helping to plan the most recent reunion. The women of the league do that to you--welcome you with open arms into their community and imbue you with their enthusiasm and pride. Writing about them changed my life, too. I can't imagine a better subject to claim as my own.

On the heals of Jan Greenberg’s post contrasting fabricated memoirs with the tireless research she’s putting into her book on artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude, comes the news, in yesterday’s New York Times, that Esquire plans to run a fictitious first-person diary titled, “The Last Days of Heath Ledger” in its April issue. The “diary,” written in fact by Lisa Taddeo, follows the late actor from London to New York, imagining his thoughts and actions during the days leading to his death from an accidental overdose of prescription medicine on January 22. In today’s world of information overload, it’s not so surprising that somebody came up with yet another way to exploit the tragic death of a talented actor. What is surprising is that in the Times article, several publishing professionals, including one who teaches magazine writing at NYU, endorse and even applaud the move.

I was trained to believe the line between truth and fiction should not be blurred. I’m not saying people shouldn’t write historical novels or produce movies and TV shows that are “inspired” by real events. The public usually knows what it’s getting into with those creations. But including a fictionalized piece in an environment where people expect truth and accuracy undermines a publication’s credibility. Years ago, when I was a contributor to Scholastic Search, a fantastic American history magazine for middle school students, the editor proposed a series of “interviews” between notables from different eras. Ben Franklin might sit down with Theodore Roosevelt, for example, or Rosa Parks might speak with Pocahontas. It’s an intriguing idea, and a good writer who did a lot of research might pull it off. But it made me uneasy to think of a fictional piece running in a kids’ non-fiction magazine.

Similarly, it drives me nuts when I see bookstores shelving installments from the Dear America series and its descendants and imitators in the non-fiction section. If store personnel can’t distinguish those fictionalized diaries from the real thing, how can kids? I vastly prefer the original American Girl books, where the historical fiction is followed by an engaging essay exploring the true events that inspired the novel. Those books give you the best of both worlds: compelling fiction and historical context under one cover.

In recent years, the trend in kids’ nonfiction has been toward more attribution and accountability. When my editors first told me they would require footnotes for quotations and statistics, I balked, flashing back to those long ago days of writing college papers. But now I embrace the chance to hold the veracity of my work up to public scrutiny by including footnotes and inviting readers to e-mail me with questions about sources. And when those sources conflict with no clear consensus, as in the spelling of Annie Oakley’s real last name (Moses or Mozee), I do my best to report the disagreement and explain why I chose the option I did. In kids’ nonfiction, honesty is the best policy and accuracy always matters.

It’s hard to live in the New York area this week without being swept up in the delirium brought about by the victory of the New York Giants over the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII. Anyone who loves an underdog can’t help but be impressed by the team that came away with a victory against the previously undefeated Goliaths of football. And the individual stories of many Giants reinforce their underdog status. Quarterback Eli Manning was the little brother, trying to emulate his champion sibling but being met by doubters all along the way. Plaxico Burress, who caught the winning touchdown pass, played all year despite debilitating ankle and knee injuries. Coach Tom Coughlin barely escaped with his job at the end of last season, when his team racked up an unimpressive record of eight wins and eight losses.

As an author who writes about sports and women’s history, I have a soft spot for underdogs. Indeed, most of the people I write about were underdogs who triumphed, defying expectations and social mores to make their mark in the world. Annie Oakley first came to fame by defeating her future husband in a shooting exhibition she was expected to lose. The women of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL) staked their claim to the American pastime despite an initially skeptical public. Nellie Bly, the subject of one of my next books, broke into New York’s old boy newspaper network despite editors who came right out and told her they wouldn’t trust a woman to cover anything but society events.

Underdogs make good stories, especially when the readers are kids, who often feel disenfranchised themselves. If they can see their struggles reflected in those of the people in my books, the past suddenly seems relevant, and reading about history isn’t a turnoff. And the points of identification don’t have to be obvious. While girls have embraced the female baseball players of the AAGPBL, I often find that boys are more animated and ask more questions when I give talks about the league. Boys who play sports relate to the women as athletes, and love the opportunity to measure their own experiences against those of the Chicks, Peaches, and Daisies.

Fortunately for both authors and readers, history is full of victorious underdogs whose lives and deeds are ripe for examination. Patriots fans can even take heart that in 1781, the ragtag Revolutionary War soldiers who inspired the name of their modern-day football team came away with a clutch victory against the giants of Great Britain. That was definitely an underdog triumph for the ages.

Two new booklists have just come out, practically at the same precise moment. The first, thanks to Educating Alice, is the 2007 Notable Books in the English Language Arts. It's a short but worthwhile list. I was particularly pleased to see the inclusion of The Braid by Helen Frost, A True and Faithful Narrative by Katherine Sturtevant, The Year of the Dog by Grace Lin, Rules by Cynthia Lord, To Dance by Sienna Segal, Oh Rats! by Albert Marrin, Team Moon by Catherin Thimmesh, Once Upon a Banana by Jennifer Armstrong, and The Adventures of the Dish and the Spoon by Mini Grey.

Still. No Fly By Night and no A Drowned Maiden's Hair. To my mind, every list should have at least one of these two.

Also, there was the announcement of the E.B. White Read Aloud Award winners:

The winner of the 2007 E. B. White Read Aloud Award for Picture Books is Houndsley and Catina by James Howe, illustrated by Marie-Louise Gay (Candlewick).

The winner of the 2007 E. B. White Read Aloud Award for Older Readers is: Alabama Moon by Watt Key (Farrar, Straus & Giroux).