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During every book production season, there are moments you will always remember and treasure until the end of time. Certain "Je n'est-ce pas" that make you hold your breath, like the moment before sending a cover to print, or even the day before you start designing a book you love. The excitement builds up and makes you push the project to a higher level. You are guided by so much conviction and truth that it gives you chills to work on it. Yes, I know it sounds funny, but I know people out there understand what I'm talking about.

This season, I had these sort of experiences while designing Fairieground, a series co-written by Beth and me. I've never had to design anything I've written before. This was a first, and it was definitely a challenge. It took many drafts, many hours of research, and many trials and errors. Yet, Beth and I are very proud with the outcome. It was a joint effort. Odessa Sawyer, our super talented illustrator, influenced the design and the book narratives with her gorgeous realistic illustrations.

The books come out this spring, but here is a little sneak peak of what the fairies in the Willow Forest are hiding from all of us. Enjoy!

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Two weeks ago I told you about Henry Helps (and Henry's inspiration). This week, I'd love to share another book I wrote this season: Too Shy for Show-and-Tell.

Okay. Raise your hand if you were or are painfully shy. Yep, that's me. Once I warm up to people I'm okay, but I have a hard time feeling comfortable with new people—even people I really like. And that's been true since I was a little kid. So when I was asked to come up with a great preK topic for our Little Boost series, feeling shy was one of the first things I thought of.

Now, there's nothing wrong with being shy, or with being an introvert. Hopefully everyone knows that. Shyness is natural. But in our society, it's definitely not rewarded. And oftentimes it can keep us, as Morrissey sang, from "doing all the things in life that you want to." So one important lesson that kids need to learn is how to put aside shyness in order to make friends, share feelings, and—as Sam the giraffe learns in this book—participate in show-and-tell and let his classmates get to know him.

The big joy of this book was seeing the words brought to life. Jennifer Bell, the illustrator, did such an amazing job—and in fact, she's already hard at work on my next book.

I hope you enjoy little Sam-the-giraffe as much as I do.

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So there's this author named Neil Gaiman. Maybe you've heard of him. Newbery Medalist? New York Times bestselling author? Yeah, that guy. Anyway, a week or so ago he wrote a very interesting post on his blog. There aren't, he said, enough good occasions for book-gifting. Therefore, he's proposing that we start a new tradition: the giving of a scary book on Halloween. (Only he's British, so he types "Hallowe'en," which is very charming.) Monica Edinger over at the Huffington Post chimed in with some excellent ideas of books to give, and in honor of the holiday, I thought I'd offer our own Capstone-centric gift-giving guide.

For the youngest book-lovers: You can't go wrong with any of our Monster Street books. They're about monsters, but they're not scary. Okay, I know the point of the whole thing is to give scary books, but sometimes you want a book that isn't scary. And COLD FEET is even about getting over fears!

For kids who have just learned to read: Katie Woo, of course! In BOO, KATIE WOO! she dresses up like a monster and tries to scare everyone.

For young fans of nonfiction scares: check out the Really Scary Stuff series. Spooktacular!

For graphic-novel lovers: Mighty Mighty Monsters tell the story of monsters' childhoods. Your giftee might also like seeing some of our graphic novel heroes battling famous monsters...for example, when Jimmy Sniffles takes on the Mummy.

For kids who prefer that scary stuff is true, there are some great new options in the Edge line. I bet a kid who was handed GHOULISH GHOST STORIES would be pretty in-demand at slumber parties!

For Twilight fans who want to believe Edward might show up at their school any minute, I don't think you could do any better than VAMPIRE LIFE

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Happy Friday, blog-readers!

Many of you probably already know that this is Library Card Sign-up Month. Many of you probably already have a library card, work at a library, or frequent a library.

Big confession time.

I've had a library card for most of my life. As a kid, I spent a ton of time in the library, both at school and at the public library. But around the time I got an income of my own, I stopped going to the library. It didn't seem convenient when I could just pop into a bookstore or order something online. The ease of buying cheap used books online made my habit even worse. I'd still buy the expensive hardcover when it was one of my favorite authors, but I never went to the library.

My husband and I have over a thousand books, which makes sense since he's a writer and I'm an editor. But we also live in a house that's less than a thousand square feet. You do the math. We have boxes and boxes and boxes of books stacked in the basement. We have books stuffed on top of books on the shelves upstairs. Our bedroom's bookshelf has books stacked three books deep. And our 2-year-old son seems to have inherited our problem--his books don't fit on his dedicated shelves.

Enter the library. We have a great library in our neighborhood of St. Paul. They have a children's storytime, lots of computers, friendly staff. I've had a library card here since we bought our house, but I hardly ever use it. Besides, though the library is great, the collection is fairly small. Easier to just order it online, right? Then I realized that I'd been missing the point. In the amount of time it takes to find a cheap used book online and buy it, I can request the same book at the library, have it delivered from another branch (if necessary), and walk through my cute neighborhood to pick it up. I was definitely patting myself on the back for that display of genius until I realized that everyone else already knew to do that.

So here's to library cards. For letting me try new authors and old favorites without committing to an investment of space and money. Let's face it--I'm still going to buy books. Obviously I'm going to continue to buy books. I work in publishing. I love books. But now I'll be able to justify my purchases even more and seek out even more new authors. Yay for library cards! I'm just sorry I'm so late to the party. Apparently I should behave more like my ten-year-old self more often.

Have a happy holiday weekend, and bring on autumn--I've got a ton of books waiting to be read.

more soon!
-Beth

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I just love hearing about kids who love our books. Here's an email from a librarian in California:

Just had to tell you this....one of my students was in line with two books yesterday all excited to check them out. When it was his turn he told me, "I just LOVE these Stone Arch Books!" Thought you'd enjoy that one.

Yay! Love it.

More soon, really, as soon as it stops being so busy around here!

Beth

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Everyone here at Capstone Fiction has one big fear: a giant stack of red folders appearing on his or her desk. Ask any of us what gives us nightmares, and it's these oversized plastic folders.

At the beginning of the season, red folders are kind of fun: they're new, shiny, empty. Like new notebooks at the start of the school year, the red folders are full of potential and promise. They're ready to do their duty. The edited manuscript slides neatly in and it's sent on its way through the production process.

But then new routing slips are attached. The folders get fingerprinty. Sketches and concepts and ideas are shoved inside.

By the end of the season (hint: like right now), it's a rare day when you come to work and don't have at least one folder waiting on your chair. The other day, Michael (our editorial director) went home early because he had eighteen red folders he had to get through before the next day. He needed to be able to focus on them (and he wouldn't admit it, but I bet he was afraid of getting more red folders before the day was through!).

Sometimes the red folders fight back. They hide. They disappear. We have editors in two locations, and sometimes the red folders simply slip away somewhere between our offices.

In general, I find it's best to try to respect the red envelopes: treat them how you'd like to be treated. Deal with them quickly and kindly and send them on their way. (Maybe the DMV could take some notes.)

After all, the sooner you pass them along, the sooner you can make room on your desk for the next batch.

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Happy Friday!

I have to admit something to you, blog readers: I am totally obsessed with Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. I read it as a kid, of course, and had vague memories of sort of liking it, but mostly relegating it to that pile of "old-fashioned" books that I didn't really understand. I picked it up again last week after Michael mentioned it off-handedly during a meeting, and I've been totally immersed in it ever since. I can see why I didn't adore it as a young girl; the references, for one thing, are still above my head, as a college-educated adult! But I'm loving it now--the plot is wonderful, entertaining, and I really care about these characters, but what really gets me are the descriptions of nineteenth-century domestic life--what a far cry from 2009, but some things are still the same! Babies still refuse to go to sleep, the laundry must still be done, and families gather together in the evenings--now with laptops and iPhones instead of mending and pipe-smoking, but still.

Anyway, I of course had to post a poem by Louisa May Alcott for today's Poetry Friday offering.

FAIRY SONG

The moonlight fades from flower and tree,

And the stars dim one by one;

The tale is told, the song is sung,

And the Fairy feast is done.

The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,

And sings to them, soft and low.

The early birds erelong will wake:

'Tis time for the Elves to go.

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,

Unseen by mortal eye,

And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float

Through the quiet moonlit sky;--

For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,

And the flowers alone may know,

The feasts we hold, the tales we tell:

So 'tis time for the Elves to go.

From bird, and blossom, and bee,

We learn the lessons they teach;

And seek, by kindly deeds, to win

A loving friend in each.

And though unseen on earth we dwell,

Sweet voices whisper low,

And gentle hearts most joyously greet

The Elves where'er they go.

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,

May the silver moon's soft light

Shine then on faces gay as now,

And Elfin hearts as light.

Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky

With sunlight soon will glow.

The morning star shall light us home:

Farewell! for the Elves must go.

Poetry Friday is hosted at Wild Rose Reader this week.

Enjoy your weekend!
More soon,
Beth

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Summer is over. As if on cue, the leaves in my St. Paul neighborhood have begun changing; the sun is setting sooner, rising later; there's a crispness in the air in the morning. Schoolbuses roam the streets, and as I drive to work each morning, kids wait on corners for their buses. On my way home, football teams practice, and groups of girls, backpacks slung over their shoulders, walk down the sidewalks.

I know I'm not the only person who gets excited when September rolls around. Someone said on Twitter the other day that September is a better time than January to make resolutions. Maybe it's not the beginning of the calendar year, and unlike the transition to spring, it's not full of renewed hope and warmth--no, actually, I take that back. It is. The promise of snuggling under blankets, reading a book; of curling up with hot chocolate; of time spent learning on purpose.

Welcome back to school, kids, parents, teachers, librarians, administrators--from me, and from everyone else here at Stone Arch and Picture Window. This year, let's all make it our new-school-year resolution to learn on purpose.

More soon!
Beth

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At a team-building session this week, we analyzed our working personalities and split into four groups. At work, I (and many of my colleagues) were Golds: we love order, lists, planning, organizing, and deadlines. In honor of my Gold (yellow) work style, I'm posting this poem by Emily Dickinson.


Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,--
Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.

-- Emily Dickinson


Poetry Friday is at Book Aunt this week.

Have a great weekend!
Beth

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Someone linked to this Onion story today on Twitter, and while I thought it was funny, it also brought up one of my biggest writing pet peeves—misusing verbs of utterance.
Now, I know English is a rapidly changing thing, the rules are fluid, etc. But can I tell you the quickest way to make me roll my eyes and make me get out my red pen is to write something like this:

“I agree,” he nodded.

Oh. It makes me cringe just to type it! People. You can’t nod a sentence. You say it. You yell it. You cry it, maybe, or even whimper it. And you can nod at the same time. But you can’t nod speech. You can’t shrug it, or smile it, or frown it. You can speak and move at the same time, of course, but then it’s a different sentence:

“I agree.” He nodded.

Or

“I agree,” he said, nodding.

Or

He nodded. "I agree," he said.

I realize this is largely a nitpicky grammar thing, but to me, it smacks of something careless—not paying attention to how people move? Not knowing the limits of what certain verbs can do? When I read the first sentence, the "nodded" stops me. I can't see or hear it anymore, which is the opposite of its intention. And if you're the offending writer, you can't tell me it's in the service of the writing.

I also realize that many a famous author does this, but it drives me nuts, and I edit it out of books with wild abandon. Do other people have annoyances like this when they’re reading? Or is it mostly limited to those of us who are paid to wield our red pens?

Gosh, this post makes me sound crabby! Really, I'm not the kind of person who goes around correcting the improper use of the subjunctive, or anything like that. Some things just really get me going.

Thanks for letting me vent!
More soon--
Beth

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My best friends had a baby boy yesterday, so in honor of baby Cooper I'm posting this poem by William Blake. It's from his Songs of Innocence and Experience, and any good English major knows that the Innocence poems have a darker side about losing innocence, but for today, let's take it at face value: the true joy of welcoming a baby to a loving family.


Infant Joy

"I have no name:
I am but two days old."
What shall I call thee?
"I happy am,
Joy is my name."
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy, but two days old.
Sweet Joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall thee!

Poetry Friday is hosted at a wrung sponge today.

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Good morning! This is my favorite part of summer--I'm not sick of it yet (although I'm starting to have yearnings for the crisp mornings of fall), and the bounty of the season is starting to, well, abound. Some of us here participate in a CSA (community supported agriculture) farmshare, and this week our baskets were literally overflowing with zucchinis, potatoes, cucumbers, cabbages, lemon thyme, beets, and more. In honor of the vegetables and herbs currently crowding my counters and refrigerator, I thought I'd post this great poem by Timothy Steele.

Herb Garden


"And these, small, unobserved . . . " —Janet Lewis

The lizard, an exemplar of the small,
Spreads fine, adhesive digits to perform
Vertical push-ups on a sunny wall;

[...]

Read the rest here.

This week's Poetry Friday is hosted at Poetry for Children.

Have a great weekend!
More soon--
Beth

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I asked my coworker Julie for a theme for Poetry Friday today, to help me choose a poem. She and Christianne share an office in our Mankato location. (Christianne is back from maternity leave this week--yay!) Anyway, they're pretty isolated from the rest of the staff in the building, so today they're playing lots of music to help them finish off the week. When Julie suggested "music" as our theme this week, I found this great poem by Robert Creeley. It manages to conjure up summer and music and a lot of other things, all in just a few words.

Water Music

The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.

. . .

Read the rest here.

This week's Poetry Friday is hosted at A Year of Reading.

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I got a sweet letter today from an almost-twelve-year-old girl--I'll call her Sally. Sally is a writer. She's working on a couple of stories right now--one of them is 65 notebook pages long, and the other is 18 typed pages. Her mom knows my mom, so my mom (as all relatives of people who work in publishing do) passed along my contact information. (Note to moms: I don't mind when it's a kid. Grown-ups, on the other hand, can be a little grumpy.)

Sally reminds me so much of myself as a kid. I was just telling my husband about the short story I submitted to the New Yorker when I was twelve. I don't remember if I included a cover letter, but every day for at least a few weeks, I checked the mail, expecting my acceptance letter and a huge check.

Though the story has been lost in the sands of time, I remember that it involved a tortured artist who painted mysterious dark paintings and made intricate pottery. When the artist finally walked into the ocean one day (I KNOW! So ridiculous) her husband found shards of pottery on the beach, each glazed with the colors of the sunset. (I hope it doesn't ruin your suspense when I ask if you can BELIEVE the New Yorker didn't want to publish this masterpiece!)

One day, while I was babysitting, my mom called to tell me I had an envelope in the mail with the New Yorker's logo on it. Honestly, I could barely make it through the rest of my babysitting job. I was daydreaming exactly how I'd tell my parents and teachers about my first published story. As soon as I got home, I ran to my room with the envelope. Inside: the first page of my story. A scrap of paper thanking me for my submission. And a post-it: "Enclose a SASE."

I'm not saying that Sally's stories are nearly as ridiculous, pretentious, and overwrought as that story was. I haven't read them yet, but I bet they're great. And I love telling kids about how publishing works and encouraging them to keep reading and writing. Because you know what I took away from my first rejection? They didn't treat me like a kid. They didn't ignore me or talk down to me. (And they sent me a letter even though I didn't know about self-addressed stamped envelopes.)

More soon--
Beth

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Yesterday, I talked about the pleasure of a blank page. Today, I sing the praises of the ink-soaked, printed, and bound page--the finished, hot-off-the-presses book.


There's probably no greater reward when working in book publishing (except, of course, hearing the reaction a kid has to the book) than receiving the finished books I've been working on for months or even years. The crisp feel of the spine opening for the first time, the warm, familiar smell of the inked pages. I've looked at the words and pictures a million times before, of course, but for the first time, it's pure enjoyment--I'm not looking for typos or making sure the art matches the text or critiquing the typeface used for the title or fixing bad breaks or deleting extra spaces between sentences. I'm just a reader, experiencing the book the same way all its future readers will experiencing it. I get to enjoy it. To turn the pages.


We're already deep into work on our Spring '10 list--my desk is littered with manuscripts and printed-out indesign layouts and sketches for illustrations. The books that are now being printed and sold, the Fall '09 list, seems pretty far away. And, we often complain, there's never a chance to stop and appreciate and look back on a season of completed books--except for a few minutes when the first finished copies land on my desk. Then, for a few minutes, I'm a reader again, not an editor. I work in book publishing for a lot of reasons--helping kids, spreading literacy, etc. It's easy to forget, immersed in the ins and outs of work, that the main reason I have this job is that I love books. The finished copies never fail to remind me.

Happily,
Beth

(PS: This series, the Field Trip Mysteries, will be available on our website soon.)

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It's been pretty quiet around here lately, but not for lack of work. The designers are all swamped, getting covers ready to present for approval today. We're working on 80 new books for Spring '10, including seven or eight new series. So the design staff has been in a flurry of concepting and designing.

In the meantime, editorial work continues apace, at least for this editor. I'm actually done with the initial editorial work for the Spring '10 list, so I've been focusing on Fall '10. There are some REALLY fun books coming in our next few seasons. One series I'm especially excited about is a spin-off from our wildly successful Claudia Cristina Cortez series. The new set will focus on Claudia's best friend, Monica. Also written by Diana G. Gallagher, the new books follow Monica through middle school and introduce some new characters to the Pine Tree Middle School universe.

I've only edited two manuscripts so far, and the series designer and I have yet to meet to talk concepts for the interior. So right now, the books are really a blank slate--we've got the story, but the package could go any of a number of ways. It's exciting. I love working on an established series--it's like hanging out with old friends--but new series have so much potential, so much opportunity. I love the blank page (so to speak--the page is full of words!).

Now I'm going to get back to Monica. Enjoy your Wednesdays. I hope you all get your own blank pages today!




More soon!
--Beth

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This week's poem, by Robert Louis Stevenson, reminds me of being a kid--running around in the backyard, rollerskating with my friends, riding my bike "uptown" (I'm from a town of 700 people, so there wasn't much there). At night, we would fall into bed, smelling like sun. I never understood why my bedtime didn't change even though it was CLEARLY still daytime when the sun was up.

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night  
And dress by yellow candle-light.  
In summer, quite the other way,  
I have to go to bed by day.  [...]

Read the rest of the poem here.

This week's Poetry Friday is hosted at Alphabet Soup.

More next week!
Beth

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Michael touched on scariness with his post last week, and I was thinking about it again yesterday while a bunch of us were at Wild Rumpus (a great Minneapolis children's bookstore). They have a special spooky cottage toward the back of the store, where all of the scary books are kept--I spotted the Twilight books, There's a Monster at the End of This Book, and The Graveyard Book, among many others. If you look down while you're standing in the spooky cottage, you can see the store rats through a special clear floorboard. It's a really cool place--perfect for raising some goosebumps while you look for that great scary book.

While my colleagues and I were perusing the shelves, I noticed a little girl standing with us--I think she was probably about four. She seemed perfectly comfortable with the books themselves, but when she looked up and realized that she was surrounded by grown-ups--none of whom were her mother--she started to cry. I helped her find her mom and little brother, and she seemed to be relatively untraumatized, but it got me thinking--for a little kid, so many different things can be scary, and not all of them are the ones we grown-ups expect them to be. Some things--like scary books--aren't scary at all; they're exciting. But looking up and seeing a bunch of strange grown-ups (all of whom, I might add, are on the bookish-nerdy-quiet end of the spectrum)? Nightmare.

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Oh, for the days I was complaining it wasn't warm enough for summer! It certainly is now. And it'll only get worse!


Today's Poetry Friday poem, written by Mary Hamrick, perfectly captures the steamy feeling of summer nights.


Hot Summer Nights

It haunts me so
those summer nights
in dim lit homes

where music flows
and tempers flare
and lullabies fill the air. ...



Read the rest of the poem here.

Poetry Friday is hosted this week at Carol's Corner.

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The beginning of June has always felt like the official start of summer to me. I know it doesn't really start till June 21, but June is the first summer month. Lots of schools are out and Summer Hours have begun here at Capstone Publishers.

Of course, since we're in Minnesota, the weather doesn't always cooperate...this doesn't look like summer to me!


Unlike the halcyon days of elementary school, things don't get a whole lot more relaxed around here in the summer. The other editors and designers and I are still finishing up the dribs and drabs of our Fall 2009 season--checking final proofs and approving final copies. (I want to talk about finished copies sometime soon--there is nothing as thrilling!) And I'm deep into work on our Spring 2010 season, editing manuscripts, writing cover copy, and working with design on cover and illustration ideas. Plus, manuscripts are starting to come in for Fall 2010 and I am even working with an author right now on a book that will be published in Spring 2011. We always joke that in publishing you can't keep track of what year it is.

As an administrative note, we're trying something new for a little while here at the SAB blog. I'll be joined by some of my colleagues in the design and marketing departments, as well as fellow editorial staff members. We'll be writing more specifically about what's going on in our days and what we're being inspired by. Today, my inspiration is the weather--it may feel like fall outside, but it's really spring--and I better get back to work on my Spring 2010 books...

more soon!
Beth

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Every children’s book editor must have a story about how they realized they loved books when they sat in their school library in kindergarten, listening to a story read by their favorite librarian. That’s how my story goes too. My school librarian, Mary Jackson (who’s now retired) was a great ally in my reading life. I was a voracious reader when I started kindergarten, and Mrs. Jackson let me check out whatever book I wanted. I still remember exactly where some of my favorites were: the Ellen Raskins on a bottom shelf, a specific collection of Christmas stories in the nonfiction stacks.

That small library was housed in a very old building, and when I entered sixth grade our school moved into a new building. The library expanded into a beautiful, light-filled space with room for browsing and reading and researching. When I was a senior in high school, I had a free period that I used to help Mrs. Jackson in that library. (I used to pride myself on having the Dewey numbers memorized...a skill I no longer have, unfortunately.) When I graduated, Mrs. Jackson gave me a gorgeous leather-bound journal—a gift I cherished, used to note the big moments during college.

This week, National Library Week, and especially today, National Library Worker’s Day, I think about Mrs. Jackson and am thankful to have had such an awesome lady helping me get to the stories I wanted. (She's also famous for being the only person in my small hometown to drive a cherry red convertible.)


Beth Brezenoff
Senior Editor

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On January 20, most of the staff in our Minneapolis office (after being warned to not stream the inauguration live at our desks) gathered upstairs in our conference room. No matter your political leanings, it was an exciting place to be—although our viewing experience was less than optimal. Our internet connection wasn’t working, so we wheeled in a TV with an antenna. It struck me as ironic that President Obama, who is addicted to his BlackBerry and who used some of the newest technology to garner support during the campaign, was being sworn in and broadcast to us over old-fashioned analog signals; whenever someone new entered the room, the screen would flicker and fuzz.

It was a pretty amazing moment when our first African-American president took the oath of office. Being the mother of a five-month-old, it’s hard for me to experience anything without somehow relating it back to my son, but the election has figured prominently into his very young life. Sam and I spent much of his first two weeks watching the two national conventions. My husband and I pushed him in his stroller to vote on Election Day (he wore my “I Voted” sticker on his carseat for a few weeks after November 4th). So it was a special thrill to me to know that my little boy will never think that only white men can become American presidents. And I hope other little boys and girls in this country will embrace this new knowledge, so that someday in the not-too-distant future, it won’t seem like a novelty when a woman, or an Asian-American, or anyone else, becomes President.


Beth Brezenoff
Senior Editor
Stone Arch Books

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