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Viewing: Blog Posts Tagged with: Jim Murphy, Most Recent at Top [Help]
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1. Best New Kids Books | December 2015

After taking a look at our selection of hot new releases and popular kids' books ... it's more than likely we're suckers for picture books about love, kindness, and compassion.

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2. KU Children's Lit Conference

The Kutztown University Children's Literature Conference occurred today and it was, as always, wonderful.  Thanks so much to all the people who pull this conference together.  The keynote speakers, Frank Serafini, Jim Murphy and David Wiesner, were amazing and the book reviews were, too.  (She lowered her eyes, modestly.)  The problem with being a book review presenter is that you can't see what the other reviewer is doing.  I put out a booklist.  I wonder if she does, too. My booklist is up on the Lists page but check back in a day or two to see The Titles That I Forgot!



0 Comments on KU Children's Lit Conference as of 4/13/2014 1:45:00 AM
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3. VERY SAME TOPICS, VERY DIFFERENT BOOKS Rosalyn Schanzer


It's pretty impressive to see how many different ways nonfiction authors can present the very same subject matter or the very same people in their books. To get the gist, today I thought it might be fun to compare some examples of books on the same topic--mostly (but not entirely) by our own INK authors and illustrators. I'll be brief, I promise.  


So how about starting with our foremost founding father, George Washington himself. Each of these 3 authors has come up with entirely different hooks to pique your interest, so a young audience could get a pretty well-rounded view of our guy by checking out these true tales.



First up is The Crossing: How George Washington Saved the American Revolution by Jim Murphy.  His hook is to focus on Washington's growth as a leader, obviously leading up to the famous crossing of the Delaware on Christmas in 1776. He's used some very interesting artwork from the period to enhance the tale.

Next comes an entirely different take on George from Marfe Ferguson Delano. Her book, Master George's People, tells the story of George's slaves at Mount Vernon, and she has collaborated with a photographer who shot pictures of reenactors on the scene. 


And this one is  (ahem) my version. George vs. George: The American Revolution as Seen from Both Sides shows how there are two sides to every story.  I got to meet George Washington and King George III and paint their pictures myself.
OK, on to the second set.  In one way or another, the next 3 books are all based upon Charles Darwin and his Theory of Evolution. Let's start with Steve Jenkins' handsome book Life on Earth: The Story of Evolution.  With a nod to Darwin, Steve has created a series of stunning collages along with fairly minimal text in order to focus on the history of all the plants and animals on the planet. 
And here's yet another nod to Deb Heiligman for her celebrated true tale of romance between two folks with opposite views of the world. Despite Emma's firm belief in the Bible's version of life on earth, she and Charles enjoy a warm and loving marriage.
Mine again. What Darwin Saw: The Journey that Changed the World, tells about Darwin's great adventures as a young guy while traveling around the world. We're on board In this colorful graphic novel as he picks up the clues that lead to his Theory of Evolution and then does the experiments that prove it.
And here's series number 3.  Apparently these authors and illustrators were hard at work at the very same time on three very different picture books about the very same person; her name is Wangari Maathai, and she won the Nobel Peace Prize for bringing Kenya's trees back to life after most of them had disappeared. 

The artwork in all three books is outstanding, and each version is truly unique. The writing styles vary enormously too. I strongly recommend that you look at them side by side to prove that there's more than one way to skin a cat.  

Planting the Trees of Kenya was written and illustrated by Claire A. Nivola.


Wangari's Trees of Peace was written and illustrated by Jeanette Winter. 
And Mama Miti was written by Donna Jo Napoli and illustrated by Kadir Nelson.  
I'd bet anything that these folks didn't know they were creating books about the same person until all 3 versions were finally published....writing and illustrating books is a solo occupation if there ever was one. 

OK, that's it--though we could easily go on and on.  Here's hoping that if any kids examine a whole series of books on the same topic written and illustrated in such different ways, they can come up with some unique new versions of their own....and have some fun at the same time. 

0 Comments on VERY SAME TOPICS, VERY DIFFERENT BOOKS Rosalyn Schanzer as of 3/25/2014 1:49:00 AM
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4. It's All About Momentum

   Was chatting with a friend the other day and he asked me about this CCSS stuff he was hearing about.  I gave him a brief explanation and he thought it sounded like an interesting move and one that might benefit me and other nonfiction writers in many ways for years to come.  I said, "We certainly hope so!"  But as soon as I said that a dark cloud passed over my obvious enthusiasm.  And I added, "But there's been some push back about it."
   And we've all heard about incidents of resistance to and downright loathing for the changes to the CCSS.  Educator Diane Ravitch has come out against the CCSS and has recently called for parents to band together in an effort to get their states to withdraw their agreement to impliment the changes.  Even while saying that she finds much that is good about the changes, her anti-CCSS blogs sound like typical paranoid tea-bag rants about big gubmint and evil private business interests.  Or is that the evil gubmint and big business interests?  Anyway, it's almost as if she knows she won't convince the vast majority of level headed professional educators, so she's gone to scare tactics to get parents into her camp.
   There are other negative voices, of course.  At a recent literary conference the director of the college's library services said he liked the changes to the CCSS, except "there was too much nonfiction."  !!!!  I know a writer of children's nonfiction who feels the changes are profound and wonderful, but hates the Appendix B list of exemplar texts.  I tried to explain why I thought the appendix was useful and appropriate, but this writer would have none of that and still denounces the appendix whenever a discussion of the CCSS takes place.  Could some part of this writer's antipathy be because he/she doesn't have a book on the exemplar list?  Meanwhile, there is a blogger/reviewer who seemed downright annoyed that at last summer's ALA conference more and more publishers, especially of textbooks, are actively promoting their various products as CCSS compliant.  In the same breath, said blogger/reviewer promised to do a review column of books that are CCSS compliant.  Go figure.
   It's not that any of these individual voices will turn back the changes to CCSS on their own.  While insistent, I don't think they are ultimately very persuasive (there's too much obvious self-interest involved in their positions).  But I do think their constant, negative drone can have a wearing effect.  And I do have a parellel situation that, while it might be a bit of a stretch to some, does seem worth thinking about.  That's the anti-gun discussion that's going on right now.
   Following the terrible tragedy at Newtown, CT, there was a massive, emotional out cry for gun law changes.  This was answered by the now famous response of NRA President Wayne LaPierre (that certainly didn't do his or the NRA's image much good).  After this, a variety of news reports of shootings taking place all around the US were reported, until my wife Alison looked at the paper one day and said, "I can't stand to read about any more of these shootings!"  My response was, "if you want real gun reform, you should be ready to read about shootings every day of the week and every one should be on the front page."
   Of course, the news reporting of shootings has dropped off considerably and so has the emotional edge in the gun reform message.  But the anti-reform movement has steadily preached the usual line of "we must be careful about our Constitutional rights" "it's not the guns; it's the crazy people" "we already have enough laws; they just need to be enforced" etc., etc.  As announcers sometimes say about football games, the momentum seems to have shifted.
   What does this have to do with the CCSS?  It seems that a great many teachers, librarians, school administrators, writers and others have embraced the changes and are busily preparing to carefully impliment them.  But they aren't all explaining the changes or defending them publically.  So the negative voices seem to be holding court unopposed.  And having some effect.  Maplewood has an online community called, naturally, Maplewood Online.  Recently one poster who dislikes the school adminstration (and has for years) has begun including a condemnation of the changes to the CCSS as yet another evil plot by the school superintendent and his minions.  You would think other posters might call her on this, but they don't.  She goes on and on in various threads, each adding a negative buzz about the CCSS.  Which reminds me; I have to get a MOL account to respond to her rants!
   And that's my point.  We talk about, praise, and defend the changes to the CCSS here in this blog.  But I think we need to get our voices "out there."  Vicki did this very nicely in a response to a Dianne Ravitch blog and I'm sure others have responded in a variety of ways to similar negative comments.  But I think we need to add our voices if not daily, at least over and over again.  I'm going to respond tomorrow to the Ravitch post (though I promise not to be snarky) and then make it a practice to address the negative noise whenever I encounter it as best as I can.  I have a feeling that if enough positive voices are heard, and heard constantly, we can keep the momentum going in the right direction.                        
                 
    

5 Comments on It's All About Momentum, last added: 3/12/2013
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5. Nonfiction Monday: Invincible Microbe

Invincible Microbe: Tuberculosis and the Never-Ending Search for a Cure by Jim Murphy and Alison Blank.

I'm back taking a closer look at the long list of this year's YALSA Award for Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adults.

Murphy and Blank do a wonderful job of weaving in multiple strands of the TB story. There's the story of the disease itself, starting in prehistory and going until today, how it affects the body, how it kills, and how we've come to the drug-resistant types we have today. There's the story of those searching for a cure, the doctors with medicine, the quacks with schemes, what has worked, what hasn't, and where we are today. Then there's the story of TB's role in pop culture and policy-- the romantic idea of the consumptive waif, border closings to quarantine areas, the way it spread through centers of urban poor. Lastly, but most importantly, it's the story of those who have suffered from this disease, from prehistoric times until today.

They dip in and out of these stories seamlessly and tying it all together as they follow TB across time and space. It gets scary at the end, when they talk about TB's comback and how what little we had to combat it is no longer working.

It's fascinating and medical and social history at its best.

Amazingly, after I read this, I discovered that I actually know several people with TB. I was even able to explain the reasons behind some of the more annoying parts of their treatment!

Today's Nonfiction Monday is over at Supratentorial. Check it out!


Book Provided by... the publisher, for award consideration

Links to Amazon are an affiliate link. You can help support Biblio File by purchasing any item (not just the one linked to!) through these links. Read my full disclosure statement.

5 Comments on Nonfiction Monday: Invincible Microbe, last added: 3/4/2013
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6. It's All Personal

1:  If you are fortunate enough to get a book published it will be reviewed.

2: It might be reviewed by a 'major' reviewer (you know, the folks who sprinkle stars around), or by a national, regional, or local newspaper or magazine, by bloggers, or by family and friends around the kitchen table.

3: Sooner or later, someone will say something about your book that doesn't sit well with you.

Number 3 happened to me a few weeks ago.

I was feeling a little anxious and aimless, so I decided to visit children's literature blogland.  I generally do this by visiting Betsy Bird's Fuse #8 blog at the SLJ site.  She has a list of favorite bloggers (including our own INK) and I roam around to see what people are chatting about.  So there I was visiting and reading this blog and that blog and another, when...pow...there was a blogger reviewing my newest baby THE GIANT and How He Humbugged America, which is about the 1869 Cardiff Giant hoax.

Now if I remember correctly the blogger had very nice things to say about the book (I would provide a link but I can't recall who the blogger was, a situation I blame on the very wonderful pain killers I was taking at the time).  But toward the end of her thoughtful review she hesitated a beat and said that she couldn't see any young reader caring about the book's subject.

What! I kind of sputtered.  But, but, but...why wouldn't kids be interested?!?  There was more, but you get the idea.  I take reviews personally.  But why wouldn't I?  I take the research and writing very personally.  It always takes a few minutes for me to calm down, but eventually I do.  Which is when I begin to blame myself for whatever a reviewer has criticized and I think back on the decisions I made about the book in question.  I this case, I began thinking about why I decided to do THE GIANT in the first place. 

Way back a few years ago, I began wondering if it would be possible to do something for young readers about Bernie Madoff and his fifty billion dollar ponzi scheme.  I quickly rejected the idea, mainly because all of the details of his fraud weren't in (and still aren't).  I'm leery of "ripped from the headlines" ideas.  Yes, they have an instant recognition factor, but usually only part of the story has been unearthed, so the result wouldn't be a truly satisfying or complete book.  It would be more of a glorified magazine article (and probably not worth the price of a book).  I then thought about doing something on Charles Pozi himself, but realized that neither he nor Madoff were very interesting guys and their schemes involved a lot of paper shuffling and ledger entries and not much that was either active or visual.  Then I remembered the Cardiff Giant.

Here was a story filled with unusual, colorful characters.  George Hull, who conceived the idea of carving a giant, lifelike human, was a serial fraudster (he not only came up with a second 'discovered' ancient human years after the Cardiff Giant, but he hired a man to write his biography, took that text and gave it to another person to clean up, and took that version and gave it to a third person, never bothering to pay anyone for their work).  P.T. Barnum tries to buy the Giant, fails in his bid, then has his own immitation Giant made and exhibited (and actually outdrew the original CD in NYC); Barnum was sued by the original CG owners, but the case was heard by a drunken judge who refused to rule against Barnum's Giant unless the original appeared in court to testify.  It don't get much better than that.

There's also action (making the giant, transporting him secretly from Chicago to NY State, burying and digging him up, exhibiting him and moving him around in his retirement years until he winds up in a leaky shed), and some decent visuals as well, both photos and drawings.

And themes and story lines.  Why the Giant captured so many people's imaginations that it literally knocked the upcoming 1869 November elections from the front pages of the newspapers, how people clamored to buy shares in the giant, how shareholders continued to insist the Giant was real even after they knew it was a fake, how educated individuals and scientists were fooled into believing the Giant was authentic, to name just a few.  Oh, yes, and how men put a 'fig' leaf over the Giant's private parts to shield women from naughty thoughts and how women were the one's to insist that was nonsence and insisted it be removed.  A lot is going on in this relatively short-lived piece of US history, some of it downright silly and some very serious. 

Still, I had to admit that the blog-reviewer had a point.  THE GIANT probably doesn't have instant and obvious curb appeal.  It will need strong reviews (and, happily, has gotten a number already) and skillful selling by teachers and librarians.  When I finally sat back and thought about it, I came to the conclusion that I wanted to do the Cardiff Giant's story (and in fact wrote it without a contract or publisher lined-up) because it grabbed my attention, made me chuckle as well as think, and seemed like a complex story that kids could understand and follow and get involved in.  I guess in the end it was personal.  

     

8 Comments on It's All Personal, last added: 10/11/2012
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7. Them's the Breaks

I'm right-handed but have to write this as a lefty, so this will probably be very brief (hey, why is everyone applauding!?!).  And I'm not even sure what to write about.  At first I thought I'd detail the various (numerous) things that have gone wrong here over the past few weeks (from broken bones to a broken dehumidifier), but thought better about going there.  Why?  Well, we had a really great, renewing vacation and despite what has happened we're not wallowing in self pity, etc.  In fact, we're kind of amazed that we still feel that post-vacation 'ain't life grand' emotion.

So what does any of this have to do with nonfiction and writing?  Good question.  Let me take a stab at an answer, but everyone feel free to correct me or add comments of any sort. 

The first thing I thought about was that many/most of the people we write about (whether they're famous or not) have usually gotten our attention and admiration because they have overcome any number of annoying, unexpected, painful or depressing obstacles.   Be it George Washington, Temple Grandin, the many folks with Hansen's Disease who were hauled off as criminals to isolated areas, Civil Rights fighters (young and old), Galileo -- well, you get what I mean.  We admire that they found ways to deal with and sometimes overcome the obstacles placed in their way, often for causes bigger than themselves, and we want to bring alive and share their journeys with others.

The second thing I wondered was that maybe learning to compensate for my injury might help me to understand better some of the people I write about.  Not that I'm equating what's going on here to anyone else's struggles.  I'll put money on it that George's bad teeth hurt him much more than my elbow/wrist, and they were often the least of his troubles.  No, I'm saying that my minor challenges might help me to think about and explore theirs in more depth, or to articulate them on the page more dramatically.  Maybe it's just that as I/we get older we experience more odd, interesting, enlightening events and these act as building blocks we can use in our work, whether it's writing a book, making a school visit, or having a video-conference.  And maybe this could help young readers to 'see' the world in a broader, more inclusive way.

Must close now to get ready for yet another doctor's visit.         

3 Comments on Them's the Breaks, last added: 9/22/2012
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8. Notes From the Field

I've been away on a speaking jag recently and not near my computer (and thus out of touch -- not that anyone noticed, of course). Two of the places I spoke at were the Pennsylvania School Librarian Association in Hershey and IRA in Chicago. I went asking how the changes in the CC would alter their respective worlds and came away without much information. Yes, numerous publishers, packages, and whatevers had signs up saying they already produced materials compatable with the changes, knew everything that would be happening regarding the CC, and inviting folk to chat them up. And I did meet a few people who were very enthusiastic and knowledgeable about the changes. Susan Bartle, who oversees scads of libraries in NY, was particularly eloquent on the subject (and set a record for purchasing somewhere between 40 and 60 of my Scholastic books to give to various librarians she works with!!!). But what about the rank and file librarians and teachers?*
   * Most had a wait and see approach. No one had yet told them specifically what would be happening, so they were moving forward cautiously, essentially expecting a change but not initiating one on their own. One teacher did say she was moving the teaching of nonfiction from the end of her school year to the beginning (which I saw as an amazing and positive move). Others cited budget cuts as a problem (they couldn't just revamp what they do without a certain amount of expense and administrative review, so, while positive about the chnages and hoping they come about, they were sitting tight). *
   * What was heartening was the interest in how we put our books together. At IRA I was on a panel with Sneed Collard III, who spoke eloquently and with great authority about his work and it's use in the classroom; my talk was much more anecdotal in nature. But I think it fair to say that we both wanted to communicate a similar message -- that we do more than simply provide information in our texts, that they are works of art where we think about, worry over, re-work and fret about every word we write, every image and caption, everything. Of course, neither of us said that "work of art" phrase; we just painted a picture of how we work and hoped the audience would make that connection (and, in some small way, understand that what we do is as creative as, say, writing a novel). Maybe I should have been bolder and just said it or suggested it. I'm not sure. I'm not big on self-promotion so that sort of proclamation seems a bit unseemly to me. What was interesting and positve were the many librarians and teachers who came up to me and asked nuts and bolts questions (where do I get ideas, how long does the research take, where do you find information, etc.) so they could go back to tell their kids. The world is changing, sometimes startlingly quickly, sometimes grindingly slowly, but at the center is an interest in our process. And that I find very comforting.*
*
   P.S. Sorry, I couldn't figure out how to create paragraphs.

4 Comments on Notes From the Field, last added: 5/8/2012
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9. The Eternal Student

Recently, I was watching Page do laps in the backyard (at 5 AM!) when I started thinking about how most of my book projects have begun. Usually in odd, strange ways.*
*
Once (and this was years ago) I was in the Newark Library doing research when I spotted an open book on a table. It was there in the morning, at noon, and in the afternoon and I never saw anyone actually reading it. It looked kind of lonely and since the library was (is) understaffed and underfunded, I decided to reshelf the book. So I picked it up and headed into the dusty stacks and hunted until I found the exact spot where it belonged (there was even a perfect space between two other books just waiting for this volume to return). Which was when I finally looked at the book.*
*
Turned out to be the Civil War memoir of a young soldier, Elisha Stockwell, Jr. When I glanced at the introduction I found out he was 15 when he enlisted. I almost immediately thought, gee, I didn't know kids that young actually fought in the war. Mind you, this was at least eight years before the Ken Burns' documentary let us see and hear Civil War soldiers old and young, so it was a revelation to me. And then that little light in my brain lit up and I thought, well, maybe young readers would like to know about this, too.*
*
So I took the memoir home and read it and loved it. Maybe there's a book idea here, I wondered. But to be sure, I had to do research. Lots of it. I began what turned out to be an endless quest for information: about the Civil War, about what a soldier's life was like, and about what young soldiers experienced. And here is where a confession is necessary. I was never a big fan of the Civil War. I read a little about it, but never really delved very deeply into it. History texts always seemed to be about the important players (military and political) and whenever these individuals wrote about the war their writing always seemed pompous and stilted and distant. And the battles were always described in dry, technical terms. But reading Stockwell's memoir and discovering other underage soldiers who left written accounts of their time in the war was an eye-opener. What they described was immediate and emotional and vivid and very often humorous. And it made me want to know more.*
*
It took about eight years, but eventually The Boys' War was published (during the same week that the Ken Burns' CW documentary first appeared. Talk about riding long coattails!). Other books had unusual beginnings as well. The Last Dinosaur was born out of my reading an article (obit, really) about a species of bird that was the last of its kind and held in captivity for years while scientists searched for a mate. Very sad. Inside the Alamo came about because a friend sent me an article that suggested that Davy Crockett had tried to escape the Alamo massacre by dressing as a woman (Not true, but it would have made for some interesting headlines). All of these titles (and others I've done) have something in common; when I began my research, I really didn't feel I knew enough about the subjects to write a book.*
*
So each required that I, in effect, create and give myself an intense and lengthy course on the particular subject. And I never stopped researching even when I began the actual writing, or even after I submitted the ms. Or even when the text went off to the printer. I kept trying to learn more; I needed to know more -- in part because I wanted the most up-to-date information or take on the subject, but mostly because I loved the subjects. And that love never dissapated as I dug deeper into the subject and learned more and more about it.*
*
I think this passion for learning about a subject gets passed along to the readers in the resulting text. Listen to this, I hope my writing is saying, it's a weird story but really cool and not too many people know about it. I want to take readers along on the voyage of discovery, of coming across an unusual character, an extraordinar

5 Comments on The Eternal Student, last added: 3/14/2012
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10. Mind Games

A week ago our six month old puppy, Page, decided that 4 AM was the perfect time to go outside and play. After an appropriate amount of grumbling on my part, I got up and let her out into the backyard. On the way downstairs, I noticed a large heart-shaped pillow, bright red and covered with lots of smaller white hearts. It was our sixteen year old son's Valentine's Day "card" to his Mom from last year.*
*
I stood on the back porch as Page dashed around madly making giant figure eights. She's a Beagle mix, golden haired with white spots, but has very, very long legs. She looked like a miniture greyhound as she sprinted around and around and around. Then I thought about that red heart pillow. Our son is a person of giant emotions -- frequaently loud in all ways (our neighbors are wonderfully tolerant when he plays electric guitar), always hugging friends hello and goodbye, compressing more words per second in his rap songs then can be imagined, never settling for a simple story line or answer in his songs when something complex, contradictory and dark is demanding to be heard. There is wonderful freedom in his approach to life and art -- often reckless (he says what he feels in the moment and doesn't look back or forward), but just as often making a moving and thoughtful emotional comment that has real impact. *
*
Of course, we also want to have all of that rich emotion in our nonfiction writing, though we operate in a world of rules -- space limitations, monitored by a series of gatekeepers (from editors, to reviewers, to teachers, librarians and parents) between our books and our readers, plus our need and drive to be as accuarate as possible. This isn't a complaint about the system we work in; but it's a reality that can sometimes make us hesitate when we're writing and sometimes/usually leads us to question what our inner soul is telling us to say: If I say it this way, it will be much more passionate or active or whatever, but will it be as accurate or clear?*
*
I know some writers who go with the flow, put down on paper whatever their head is telling them, and either leave it to their editors to make suggestions for revisions or go back later themselves. I envy them. Unfortunately, I am a compulsive self-editor. I think over, question, revise and re-revise every phrase, every sentence, every paragraph as I write them. Then I rework the section and question it all over again. And my earliest books reflected this labor. Over the years I've come up with little gimmicks to maintain a more spontaneous feeling. Nothing genius, mind you. Just ways to stay relaxed in my head. For instance, when I write, I tell myself that I should imagine I'm talking to one reader who happens to be sitting across the desk from me, which means writing in a conversational, informal way. If I feel a section is sounding too much like a freshman college lecture, I stop and do something else (wash dishes, water plants, take Page out) and come back later, hopefully with a fresh eye and approach. And I always read over a manuscript several times with a slightly different mode of attack. I'll make believe I'm the nastiest editor alive and write all sorts of challenging comments and suggestions in the margins; I'll read it with a young reader in mind who might not be familiar with the subject; and I'll just read it start to finish in one shot to be sure it flows along smoothly, noting whenever something (an odd phrasing, an overly long sentence, etc.) makes me stop reading. *
*
These are just little tricks -- mind games really -- and sometimes they work. Just as watching Page doing crazy laps in the dark night for ten or twenty minutes can free up the brain and get it ready for another day's work. I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine's Day and that (if you work) your thoughts and words are passionate, free flowing, and exactly what you want to say.

11. Real Revision

Tanya Lee Stone. Susan Goodman. Jim Murphy. Kelly Fineman. You know these folks. They’re regular contributors to this blog.

They’re also four of the thirty or so authors featured in Real Revision by award-winning children’s book author Kate Messner. The book is such a gem that you’ll definitely want your very own copy.

Real Revision is published by Stenhouse Publisher, which caters to educators, so this book is written specifically for teachers. That makes it great for all you educators out there. But I know plenty of writers also read this blog. This book is a MUST READ for you, too.

Some chapters focus on fiction-specific revision strategies, but the lion share of the book is useful to nonfiction writers as well. Here are few of my favorite quotations from nonfiction writers.

Kelly Fineman on why she takes time away from a manuscript between writing the rough draft and delving into the revisions:

“It could be as little as half an hour or as long as a year, but I need to have established some sort of distance from it in order to read it at least somewhat objectively and not like a doting author.”

Loree Griffin Burns on the importance of reading widely and carefully considering the structure of nonfiction writing:

“I pay close attention to the structure of the books I am reading all the time, and I compare and contrast them to the structure I’m working with. This is always helpful to me because it gives me confidence . . .or in some cases, helps me see why my own structure is not working.”

Susan Goodman on striking the right balance between sharing information and engaging readers while writing Life on the Ice:

“. . . I was trying to fit in so many facts that I had lost sight of what my book was all about—the excitement on exploration . . . So I sat down at my computer with an imaginary nine-year-old kid beside me. And I simply told that kid an adventure story—one where scientists were the explorers.”

Jim Murphy on finding the proper voice and storytelling technique for his Newbery Honor book The Great Fire.

“I read newspapers and personal recollections of the Chicago fire until I had absorbed the pace and language of the era. . . . I didn’t try to duplicate voices from the past, but I knew I had a faint echo of them in my style.”

Tanya

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12. The Past Is Always Present

Our house has a fairly large wrap-around porch and Alison and I love to use it whenever we can. We watched New Year's Eve fireworks from it this year and have used it in the past to view parades and bicycle and foot races. But just sitting in a wicker chair as the night wears along is a peaceful joy. Traffic dies down at 11 PM and the world becomes very still and deep. When leaves are present, when they surround and embrace the porch, very little light -- whether from street or porch lights or the moon -- disrupts the dark shadows. It becomes a refuge, a haven to escape the day-to-day pressures and responsibilities, a place where I often find myself thinking of the past.*
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Sitting there I sometimes wonder if the original owners of our house sat out at night as we do? The house was built in 1905 and our town of Maplewood was just beginning to grow and change, with new streets being carved through old apple orchards, sturdy wood frame houses slowly rising up. What did those first owners hear at night? The lonely clip-clop of horse's hooves? The huff and chug of the steam train from Newark? And when did the first automobile make its way past the house? *
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And what about other owners through the years? What was it like to sit in the absolute quiet of a dark night when the world wars were raging? Did someone bring a radio out to listen to the latest reports from Europe or the Pacific? Did anyone sit on the porch during a heavy snow fall (as I often do) to be surrounded by cold and white and gusting winds? Or stay out when a summer thunderstorm came rumbling through? Yes, I have been known to experience all sorts of storms out there.*
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And, of course, there are those strange, sometimes unsettling moments, especially after midnight. Twenty years ago we often heard the distant voice of a young girl calling plaintively in the night: "Mommy... Mommy... Mommy..." We nicknamed her the Ghost Child and dispite going out to make sure everything was okay and despite asking neighbors, it was years before we found out the truth. It was indeed a young girl and she was searching for a loved one -- her cat, which escaped regularly and was named Monty!*
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That was a disappointing end to the story. We had hoped for something a little more, shall we say, picturesque. But the Ghost Child has been replaced these days by the Night Rider. Late at night, usually after midnight, we can hear the thrum of a skateboarder making his or her way up Maplewood Avenue toward our house. The sound gets louder and louder until they get to the corner that borders our house where the rider turns and pushes hard to sail up the side street. We have never actually seen the rider, it's that dark. Just a quick glimpse of moving shadow and then the sound of the wheels fades away into the night. Who is the Night Rider? Where did they come from and where are they going? Will they be safe?*
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These are decidedly small bits of history. Incidents really that usually aren't recorded because they're, well, so every day and common. But I believe that much interesting history begins with the ordinary. Take what happened to Corporal Barton Mitchell and his friend on September 13, 1862. When the 27th Indiana Infantry halted their march just outside of Frederick, Maryland, Mitchell and his pal went over to rest in the shade and happened to spot a rolled-up piece of paper in the tall grass. It turned out to be Special Order No. 191 (where Robert E. Lee divided up his army). If these two soldiers hadn't found the paper and hadn't realized it was important, there would have been no Battle of Antietam, Lee would have probably been able to reunite his forces, and that would have meant a far different battle between Lee and McClellan than Antietam (and who knows when or even if the Emancipation Proclamation would have been issued!).*
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Finding those orders was pure dumb luck, but it resulted in an historic battle that changed the course of the war and the world. A tiny bit of history, a mere moment really, that had profound e

3 Comments on The Past Is Always Present, last added: 1/11/2012
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13. Field Trips, Parties, and Where do I Get my Ideas?

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In response to Roz Schanzer’s hilarious post “Writing Right, Right?” about Rules for Writing, Jim Murphy commented, “You have to have some fun writing if you expect me to still be awake when I get to the conclusion.” That reminds me of a funny story.



Most of the books I do with Sandra Jordan begin with a field trip. But not all field trips turn into books. A few years ago Sandra and I had what we thought was a great idea. We set off for the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Museum of Modern Art to do some research. After two hours there, we went back to my apartment, sat down, and promptly fell asleep. Later we realized if our great idea put us to sleep, what would it do to our readers?



Where do you get your ideas? That’s the question I’ve been asked hundreds of times for the last thirty years. Some of my ideas seem quite interesting when I come up with them, often in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. But in the light of day (is that a cliché, Roz?) in the midst of researching, I get so bored I end up eating lunch at 9:30 in the morning or writing frantic e mails to my daughters about nothing.


Here are some of my favorite field trips that did work out:



  1. A drive out to Storm King Sculpture Park resulted in our book “The Sculptor’s Eye.”

  2. On a visit to the National Gallery in Washington DC, Sandra and I stood transfixed in front of Jackson Pollock’s painting Lavender Mist and featured it in “Action Jackson.”

  3. A trip to the Isamu Noguchi Foundation in Long Island City to see his stage sets for dances by Martha Graham sparked our interest in doing a book on collaboration that resulted in “Ballet for Martha.”


Going to a party doesn’t constitute a field trip but it may inspire an idea. I once met the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude at a cocktail party and she and I struck up a conversation about �

4 Comments on Field Trips, Parties, and Where do I Get my Ideas?, last added: 10/24/2011
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14. Ooooops!

Did anyone else happen to read the September 30, New York Times Weekend Arts article about the new exhibition at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C.? The exhibit is titled Manifold Greatness and its subtitle makes clear what it's about: "The Creation and Afterlife of the King James Bible."
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It sounds like a wonderful exhibit, especially for those who love words and real books -- manuscripts from the year 1000, the King James Bibles used by Queen Elizabeth I, King James' son, Henry, and Frederick Douglas, among others. And there's the history of how the King James version came to be, and especially the contribultions made by William Tyndale (who was condemned by the church and state for his English translation of the Bible and subsequently strangled to death by the crown, then burned. Talk about a bad review!) But what caught my attention and gave me a chuckle was the work of printerRobert Barker and his associate, Martin Lucas.
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Seems that Barker/Lucas printed a version of the King James Bible in 1613 where in one book he set "Jesus" as "Judas." Oooops, my bad, he probably explained to the authorities. He fixed the error by pasting Jesus' name over that of his betrayer. But the Barker/Lucas masterpiece of mangled setting was their "Wicked Bible" from 1631. In this version they managed to leave out a single word, "not," so that one commandment reads "Thou shalt commit adultery." I thought this sounded very 60s, but clearly it didn't please the authorites back then, since both men were fined for the error. Barker probably wished he'd hired a real proofreader when he was later put into debtors' prison where he subsequently died.
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Reading about Barker/Lucas made me think of errors that have appeared in my books. Usually a new book arrives and I leaf through it quickly, just to get an idea of what readers will experience. Later (a week, two weeks, sometimes longer) I'll go over the book start to finish with a red pen in hand. I read every word, marking sentences/paragraphs I wish I could have done better or that need to be changed in a subsequent printing. I remember being very embarrassed when I discovered that three sentences in a book began with "It was..." Two on the same page! How could I have possibly missed that, I wondered. Actually, I was really furious with myself and set about figuring out how to avoid the same thing ever happening again. Not that I really figured out how to do this. But at least I give myself a lecture about watching for repetitions whenever I'm readying a manuscript to be sent off to one of my editors.
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Then there was the endpaper map for Across America on an Emigrant Train. Oh, my, this one hurt. The map was a last minute addition (the book was actually at the printer when the decision was made to have it drawn), so I didn't get to see it before the book was finsihed. Not that that would have made a difference. When the book arrived I looked at the map, wanting to be sure the artist had gotten Rober Louis Stevenson's 1879 train trip across America correct. Satisfied, I glanced through the book, then put it aside. Several months later, a letter arrived from an alert twelve-year-old reader. "Dear Mr. Murphy. I really liked your book. I liked that Robert Louis Stevenson almost died while trying to get to his girlfriend in California. The only thing I didn't like about the book was that you put the state where I live -- Vermont -- in the wrong place. Thanks for...." But I didn't read his letter all the way through; I was already fumbling for a copy of the book and right away (and way too late) saw that we'd switched both VT and NH.
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Why hadn't I noticed this when I first looked at the book? I was too focused on checking RLT's route and had assumed that the map was correct. At a glance it looked correct (the state's all looked as I remembered them to be). It was a case of familiarity breeding a form of arrogance, or at least a form of laziness. No one could possibly mix up the states or fail to see them mixed up,

5 Comments on Ooooops!, last added: 10/13/2011
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15. Can Something Be Too Perfect?

While on vacation in the Adirondacks this summer I read Laura Hillenbrand's Unbroken. For those who might not know the book, it's about a World War II crew of a B-24 (not affectionately called a "Flying Coffin") that plunges into the Pacific, killing most of the men. The few who lived through the crash, including Olympic runner Louis Zamperini, survive in a tiny, disintergrating rubber raft for over a month, are captured by the Japanese and imprisioned on a small island, and then sent to Japan and made to do hard labor, accented by senseless torture. It's the sort of story where just when you think nothing worse could possibly happen to these guys something even worse does indeed happen.

It's an amazing book and one I would highly recommend to anyone interested in gripping, well-written nonfiction. But here's the thing: it's almost too perfect. Hillenbrand has clearly done a ton of research as even a casual glimpse of her Notes and Acknowledgments makes clear, with Zamperini providing a wealth of information in over seventy-five interviews. Even so, I sometimes found the level of detail startling and wondered if it all came from Zamperini or whether some was author speculation. Take this brief paragraph (that I picked by opening the book and, without looking, pointing at a part of the page) that describes the moments after Zamperini is thrown into a small, wooden cell on the island of Kwajalein:

"At first, Louie could barely see. His eyes darted about uncontrollably. His mind raced, flitting incoherently from thought to thought. After weeks of endless openness, he was disoriented by the compression of the space around him. Every nerve and muscle seemed in a panic."

I have no problem with the basic facts; the notes for p. 174 say that Zamperini provided them. But do any of us think he described his eyes darting about or the panic in his nerves and muscles? I'm willing to say "well, maybe," but in my heart I'm thinking this is made up stuff. And I wouldn't be bothered by one or two places where this happens. Or ten. But it seemed that every scene (whether Zamperini is the focus or not) is fleshed out with similar rich, dramatic detail and emotional insight. It's almost as if they're too complete and rounded out

It's possible that I was recalling the numerous blog-o-sphere discussions recently where non-fiction writers have been urged to speculate more about their subjects (to build drama and emotion and to help go beyond "history as story" in order to discuss opinions and ideas). Or maybe I was remembering an article that (wiesly in my opinion) warned about fictional details sneaking into children's non-fiction. So I may be a little too sensitive to these things and as a result totally unfair to Hillenbrand. Maybe she did write a perfect book! Even so, it did make me wonder where the line should be drawn when it comes to speculation and who, besides the author, should be monitering it. I've had editors (Dinah Stevenson to name one) who know history and can sniff out every false note in a text. But I think that a lot of editors might not be quite so versed in history and might not be able to spot fact from decent, based-on-solid research speculation versus made up stuff. Reviewers? Again, a mixed bag of expertise that might allow a nonfiction book loaded with questionable speculation to pass unchallenged.

It's a complex and potentially troubling situation (especially considering who our main audience is) and one that may never be resolved in a clear and satisfying way. I'd love to hear what others think about this and what we should do.

5 Comments on Can Something Be Too Perfect?, last added: 9/16/2011
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16. The List Keeper

I know everyone is posting previous blogs, but I haven't been around here that long and don't have anything very memorable. So I thought I'd do a quick new entry.*
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I think I'm like a lot of people; I make lists all the time. I was just doing a new list of summer goals when it struck me that these are a record of my failures, but also a hopeful sight that things will get better. The pesky past meets the optimistic future.*
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My lists are a combination of personal and family goals, plus work and writing goals. For instance, on this list is: "Lose 20 lbs." And I'm happy to say that since I began this diet, I've dropped 9 plus pounds. Will I make it? So far, so good...but whenver my son comes home with a giant, delicious smelling pizza, whenever I pass the bread section at Whole Foods, whenever I'm within a mile of something being deep fried...well, tempation is all around me and I have a real desire to surrender. But I'll try to be strong.*
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The first work-related item is: CLEAN OFFICE. Every list I've ever done has this on it and my last list even included several !!!!! to signify its importance and my deperation. This time around, I've added subdivisions. They are:*
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Clean and organize desk*
Clean bookshelves*
Get rid of unwanted/unneeded books*
Get rid of old mss., first pass pages, etc*
Answer correspondence*
Paint rm*
Vacuum*
Check rug and maybe replace?*
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When I make some headway with anything on a list, I put a check next to it to indicate how many attempts I've made. If I actually accomplish something, I draw a big, thick line through it, a bit like a knight striking a pose while putting his armored foot on the head of a dead dragon. Unfortunately, for these particular items, I only have a smattering of checks to show some forward movement. And with that last item, I have penciled in: "have to see rug to decide this."*
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Below this, there are two similar entries. One says "write massacre bk," while the other says "write heart bk." The latter already has several reassuring checks next to it (it will be about the 'blue baby' heart operation from the 1940s and I'm having a weird amount of fun trying to figure out how to do a very complicated, but very dramatic science story and keep kids interested). But here I feel the tug in my brain every morning to open the file and dig into it. Almost 1/3 of the book is done already and I haven't even seen the first half of the advance (not only does it take longer to push contracts through, etc., but I just felt compelled to get this one in gear).*
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The former is about the Boston Massacre and I have to admit I've been stalled on this for several years (and my publisher isn't happy and neither am I). The problem? Well, I began with certain themes in mind, but every time I started writing they begin to morph after a chapter or two. And then I have to go back and rethink everything, start to finish. It's very weird; the material keeps 'talking' to me, insisting that it needs to be presented in another way (though that voice rarely gives me detailed directions). I may have these things puzzled out now (I hope I do anyway), but the key is to make real headway before September. Wish me luck on this*
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There are more items on this list, of course. Many more. But the little checks are also multiplying, which is reassuring, especially since a hot, humid summer can be a real work killer for me. But I'm hopeful, just as a "to do" list is hopeful; I want to put solid lines through every goal so I can start my fall list with fewer familiar items. We'll see what has happened come the fall.*
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I hope you all have a safe and happy summer. Oh, and if you have a list, too, I hope you can knock off a lot of those pesky items as well.

2 Comments on The List Keeper, last added: 7/13/2011
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17. All Indians Weren't Bad People

I had the pleasure of being on Neil Hally's Total Education blogtalk a few weeks ago with Vicki Cobb. The first question Neil asked me was if I'd always been interested in history, to which I had to say no. Sadly, like a lot of kids (most?) I wasn't at all intrigued by any of the history taught through 6th grade. It all seemed like a dry procession of names and dates and facts heaped upon facts. This all changed in 7th grade.*
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On the very first day of school that year we were introduced to a new teacher, a man. I attended a parochial school and Mr. Polino was the first male teacher ever hired. He was short and stocky and tough looking, and he began class that day by standing at the front, armed folded across his chest, staring hard at us. He never said a word but he definitely did not looked pleased. Gradually, as more and more kids stopped chattering to pay attention, the room quieted. I thought, "uh, oh, this isn't going to be good" and tied to disappear behind the kid in front of me. At this point Mr. Polino said in a strong voice, "All Indians weren't bad people!"*
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By Indians he meant Native-Americans and the initial reaction to his simple statement ranged from surprised laughter to astonished gasps to scatterings of "what's he talking about?" Mr. P. then went on to tell us that we'd all been brainwashed into believing the worst about Native-Americans by really bad TV shows and movies. This produced a gentle murmuring of protest from the class; Mr. P. responded by asking us to be honest: "When you think about Indians what are the images that come to mind immediately." Several hands shot into the air and Mr. P. called on one after the other for answers, all of which turned out to be negative stereotypes based on -- guess what -- bad TV shows and movies.*
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I realized that Mr. P. had trapped us, but he wasn't gloating about out manueuvering us or even lecturing us on wasting our time on trashy programs. He didn't even warn us that we should do better research before forming opinions. In fact, he was actually smiling by this time and seemed almost friendly as he began talking about the Lenni Lanape people and their accomplishments. And he did this for well over an hour. Telling us about their lifestyle, what local rivers and roads bore names using their language, how they had tried to maintain their lands through various treaties only to be betrayed by white settlers. It wasn't just the details he was revealing that grabbed my attention; Mr. P. was clearly animated and passionate about the subject and you could feel that excitement in his every word, every gesture. I sat up pretty tall in my seat so I could see and hear Mr. P. clearly. Afterward, I remember thinking that a whole new world had opened before me, a world where the past held secrets that I could uncover if I just did a little bit of legwork.*
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I think about Mr. Polino every time I start a new project. Not that I think of myself as an accomplished teacher who might inspire young readers to a life of history. I have too much respect for the heavy lifting teachers have to do to engage and inform kids. But I do tell myself to put aside the cares of the day, to focus my thoughts and energy so I can bring as much passion and excitement to whatever subject I might be writing about. Hopefully, if I can maintain that focus from start to finish, one of my books might aid and abet a teacher in opening new worlds to one or more of their students.*

1 Comments on All Indians Weren't Bad People, last added: 6/14/2011
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18. Trust Me

Several weeks ago I received an e-mail from my editor at Clarion Books, Dinah Stevenson. In it she said she knew I was working on a project for her, but would I put it aside to work on another newer one (so new that the contract hadn't yet come through). She worried, she told me, that someone else might beat us to the topic.*
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The request made me sit up straight in my chair in panic. I had already begun writing the first project, which meant that I'd done the research, interviewed experts, thought about the structure of the text, played with themes and second guessed every decision I'd made several times over. And I'd gotten into the text enough that I felt I'd almost (but not quite) found the zone, that place where I feel I've finally worked out the right voice and writing rhythm. If I stopped now (I didn't think I could work on both projects simultaneously and meet the proposed deadline) I worried that I might lose emotional energy and have to go back to the very beginning and puzzle out the problems all over again.*
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And then there was the problem of pushing the second project forward at (for me) what would have to be break neck speed. I wanted, for instance, to search out as many as twenty individuals for indepth interviews and follow up questions, a task I'd calculated could take a year to accomplish. To stay on schedule I'd now have to do this in less than six months. Which did not include the time it would take to write and rewrite the text or gather together images. My head was spinning a little as I imagined all sorts of other disasters that would delay or undermine the project.*
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And then there was the simple matter that I felt the first project was much more likely to be done by someone else because it had begun to appearing recently in numerous newspaper and magazine articles. Why abandon a project that was just gaining momentum and launch into another that had more questions associated with it then answers?*
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So I called Dinah and told her my concerns. She listened and then she worked her magic. Don't worry about the first project, she told me. There's no rush about getting it done so you'll have plenty of time to solve any new issues that arise. And what's more, she didn't think anyone would beat us to the first topic. As for the new project I asked if she had heard of anyone else working on or even considering the subject; no, she answered. She just had a feeling that we needed to move the second project ahead of the first.*
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I know what you're thinking: this doesn't sound altogether reassuring. It didn't come with a guarantee of any sort; it was a hunch, pure and simple. But then I thought back to the many years I've known and worked with Dinah -- the way she made thoughtful and strong comments and suggestions about my texts, but never tried to force her opinions on me, the way she guided each project through its many phases and resolved one knotty problem after another with seeming ease, even the way she celebrated whenever a book received a nice review or got some other sort of positive notice. Book making has always been a partnership with writer, agent (yes, my agent does more than just pushing contracts through), editor, designer, production and marketing departments all working toward a common goal. But with Dinah I've always felt another deeper level of energy and committment -- first, to helping me do the best job possible, and, second, to making sure the book has every chance to succeed. *
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When I write I let my instincts lead me down many paths, most of which don't turn out to be deadends. And I had a feeling that Dinah was doing much the same thing here. For some combination of reasons she felt the newer project should be done before the older one. In a way she was saying "Trust me." And I, relying on my writer instinct, did. It will be an interesting (to say the least!) journey and I'll report on it at some future date. Wish me well.
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19. “Bystander” Named to Ballot of 2012 Charlotte Award Nominees

This is amazing good news. Great news, in fact. I’m happy and proud to say that my book, Bystander, is included on the ballot for the 2012 New York State Reading Association Charlotte Award.

To learn more about the award, and to download a ballot or bookmark, please click here.

The voting is broken down into four categories and includes forty books. Bystander is in the “Grades 6-8/Middle School” category. Really, it’s staggering. There are ten books in this category out of literally an infinity of titles published each year. You do the math, people.

For more background stories on Bystander — that cool inside info you can only find on the interwebs! — please click here (bully memory) and here (my brother John) and here (Nixon’s dog, Checkers) and here (the tyranny of silence).

Below please find all the books on the ballot — congratulations, authors & illustrators! I’m honored to be in your company.

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GRADES pre K-2/PRIMARY

Bubble Trouble . . . Margaret Mahy/Polly Dunbar

City Dog, Country Frog . . . Mo Willems/Jon J Muth

Clever Jack Takes the Cake . . . Candace Fleming/G. Brian Karas

Lousy Rotten Stinkin’ Grapes . . . Margie Palatini/Barry Moser

Memoirs of a Goldfish . . . Devin Scillian/Tim Bower

Otis . . . Loren LongStars Above Us . . . Geoffrey Norman/E.B. Lewis

That Cat Can’t Stay . . . Thad Krasnesky/David Parkins

Turtle, Turtle, Watch Out! . . . April Pulley Sayre/Annie Patterson

We Planted a Tree . . . Diane Muldrow/Bob Staake

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GRADES 3-5/INTERMEDIATE

The Can Man . . . Laura E. Williams/Craig Orback L

Emily’s Fortune . . . Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Family Reminders . . .

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20. Battle Cry Freedom

Last month I chatted about Marc Aronson's "New Knowledge" article which appears in the latest issue of The Horn Book (http://www.hbook.com/magazine/current.asp). It wasn't that I disputed his definition of New Nonfiction -- that it involves original research and new discoveries and sometimes leads to speculation on the subject that goes beyond the established, accepted opinions. I simply wanted to point out that this wasn't particularly new, that some folk had been doing this for many years, and that what was being labeled as new was in fact the result of a gradual evolution.*

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Marc responded in his School Library Journal blog, Nonfiction Matters (http://blog.schoollibraryjournal.com/nonfictionmatters/2011/03/page/2/), with a long and thoughtful explanation, then followed this with two additional posts that, among other things, further defined and defended New Knowledge. The posts are all worth reading and thinking about, as are the responses and Marc's replies to them. I understand, too, that Russell Freedman has more to add to the discussion that will appear in the next issue of Horn Book.*

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Here's the weird thing. Every time I read Marc's posts, the title of James McPherson's twenty-three year old book Battle Cry of Freedom popped into my head. Marc's entries certainly were a battle cry for speculative nonfiction as a force to lead us into the future. But I kept sensing that more might be going on here, that the freedom part of my memory response was vital. Then it came to me. Now I may be reaching here, reading too much into the passion of Marc's writing, and I apologize in advance if that's the case. I just had a feeling that at heart this was a plea to be taken seriously by the world beyond children's books, that Marc wanted his books and those of other New Knowledge practicioners to be seen as equal to and as worthy of serious discussion and respect as any adult nonfiction book. That he wants to break the chains that enslave us as "children's book" writers.*

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There is absolutely nothing wrong with this desire. We've all had those awkward and annoying moments when someone (well-meaning but clueless about how we actually put our books together) has asked when we'll write a real grown-up book; we've patiently tried to explain our research methods, the care that we take to develop themes, how we sweat bullets over the text -- but really we just want to scream. Or at least not have to always justify our craft.*

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And let's face it, being a part of the New Knowledge (New Nonfiction, Passionate Nonfiction, Speculative Nonfiction, or as Tanya Lee Stones says, "whatever we finally end up calling it") movement has appeal. There is a certain exhilartion and positive energy charge in announcing a new finding or interpretation, to being unique or the first to have a major scoop. My problem is that in the enthusiasm of the moment, some painful and damaging mistakes can be made. Take the case of Archaeoraptor Lianoningensis. *

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In October, 1999, National Geographic made a monumental announcement, followed by a prominent article in their magazine. They had the fossil remains of Archaeoraptor Lianoningensis, a chicken-sized dinosaur that presumably lived from 125 million to 140 million years ago that, National Geographic claimed, was the "missing link between terrestrial dinosaurs and birds." Only it wasn't. It was an artfully glued together assembly of random fossils made by a Chinese farmer. The fraud was quickly exposed (in fact, several individuals had actually expressed doubts about the fossil months before the announcement

3 Comments on Battle Cry Freedom, last added: 4/13/2011
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21. The Line of Difference

The Horn Book's current issue is focused on nonfiction and contains many interesting and thought-provoking articles, including a great one by I.N.K.'s very own Tanya Lee Stone. If you have a chance, you might want to visit the HB site (www.hbook.com/) and check out what is being discussed (and even if you don't have a subscription -- and I don't -- you can still access a number of the pieces).
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An article that caught my attention was Marc Aronson's "New Knowledge." In it he draws a razor sharp line between the old nonfiction, where, according to Marc, writers simply take the work of the expert adult scholars and make it "engaging and accessible to young readers," while the new nonfiction is where writers "set out to discover new knowledge" and then bravely interpret and speculate about it "however parlous and fraught with possible error that may be." *
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Now don't get me wrong; I find the kinds of books he describes as exciting as Marc does, and the authors he cites as fine practitioners (including Stone, Susan Campbell Bartoletti, Phillip Hoose, Kadir Nelson, and himself) are all people and writers I applaud for their bravery and tenacity in hunting out the truth and their skill at presenting it to young readers. Still I bristled at some of Marc's reasoning and in particular over the way he so soundly deposited Russell Freedman in the old (and by implication inferior) nonfiction category. I would never presume to speak for Russell, but I will say that in my many chats with him over the years about research and, yes, how he interprets the gathered information, I think Marc's representation is both limited and unfair. Russell is a long-time friend and colleague, a writer and researcher I admire a great deal, so maybe I'm over-reacting a bit; and maybe it's that most of my own books would probably be classified as old nonfiction and pushed aside as well. So I thought I'd address a few of these issues here. [By the way, I would have responded directly on The Horn Book site, but didn't see a way to do this.]
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Marc's article rambles a bit and some of it seems dropped in, possibly because it was an after-thought or a last minute editorial suggestion. Even so, I think I can summarize a few of the reasons why Marc feels the new nonfiction is completely different from the old and therefore unique: the new nonfiction 1, requires original research, often side-by-side with "pioneering experts," 2, this research often reveals information not available in adult books, and 3, these writers (he refers to them as "explorers") venture to interpret and speculate about the historical record. I realize there is more to Marc's definition of the new nonfiction, but I thought I'd start with these three for today.
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My books always begin with a careful study of the scholarly thought on a topic, what Marc refers to as the "settled knowledge." I do this to establish a solid understanding of the subject, to see how opinions and conclusions have changed over the years, and to provide the route to further research, a path that has hundreds of branching leads to follow.
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In fact, I have never done a book that did not entail significant detective work that required exploring beyond the edge of the known -- to root out primary sources, interview and question experts (established and pioneering) on their ongoing research and their conclusions, and sometimes to work alongside these experts. In short, doing whatever it takes to unearth a new detail or voice, all of which can lead to a slightly different interpretation of events from what has usually been accepted. Take what happened with The Boys' War.
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Way back in the Dark Ages of 1985 I was reading a book about the Ci

7 Comments on The Line of Difference, last added: 3/9/2011
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22. Obsessive Compulsive Writing Disorder

I was thinking about poetry the other day, though not in a particularly pleasant way. I was recalling my first day in English 101 and how I argued (long and somewhat loudly) with the assistant professor over the interpretation of a poem. Made for a very interesting start to a very long year, to say the least.
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To put myself in a better mood, I shifted my thinking to love poems. Well, it is the season, isn't it? I remember doing research on ancient flood stories and coming across what is supposed to be the first love poem, written some four thousand years ago in a region of southern Mesopotamia known as Sumer. The poem has the oh, so romantic title of Istanbul #2461 and the opening verse as translated by Samuel Noah Kramer goes:
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"Bridegroom, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet,
Lion, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet."
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According to Kramer, the poem was recited annually by the brides of King Shu-Sin, a kind of Valentine's Day wish long before there was even a St. Valentine. The poem raises all sorts of interesting and complicated questions about the Sumerian civilization, the standing and treatment of women in that culture, and of the powerful Shu-Sin, especially after reading this line from the second verse: "Lion, I would be taken by you to the bedchamber"). But I also enjoyed the poems straightforward simplicity and easy flow. It has a way of drawing the reader along in a seductive way, something I'm sure Shu-Sin happily approved of year after year.
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Not many people know that I began my writing career as a poet way, way back when I was twelve. And, yes, I wrote love poems. I did them for classmates who wanted to impress a girl and I "charged" one Lionel train car per work (guaranteeing that the poem was original, but not that it would win over the girl's heart). I went on to write serious poems in high school and was reasonably good at immitating the styles of a number of famous poets, male and female, though I gave up writing poetry in college when I realized that an aweful lot of poets committed suicide. Writing poetry can be very intense.
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Still, it's hard to completely give up the habits I developed over those years while writing and reworking and sweating over every line, every word, every change of beat. I still go through a similar process today when I do my nonfiction books. I see my text as a kind of flowing piece of music where the sound of every word matters and where a hiccup in a sentence distracts me and drives me crazy. I can't tell you how many times I've made a simple change on, say, p. 55, then gone back to reread the text from the start to make sure the alteration fits in seamlessly. It's an annoying obsession, driven by the fear that a clunky section, a single repetition, unclear thought -- whatever! -- will jar a reader enough to pull them out of the text. It's absolutely impossible to win this sort of mind game/torture, but it's a habit I just can't break. As painful as this is, hopefully it makes the writing a little bit better.
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Since I began this with a love poem, I'll end it with one as well. I wrote this for my wife, Alison, several years ago using those refrigerator magnets made up of individual letters, brief combinations of letters, and a few complete words. It's called Sweet Dreams and was meant to be fun, though our fifteen-year-old son, Ben, was very serious when he said it needed a stronger ending. The last line is his and I think it is perfect.
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My feet sigh,
My blood screams,
My shadow weeps,
Thinking of you --
and chocolate.
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Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

2 Comments on Obsessive Compulsive Writing Disorder, last added: 2/8/2011
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23. Out With the Old, In With the New

2010 ended in a frenzy of work as I tried to finish up the revisions of two manuscripts. I wanted to start the new year working on new projects. And for the most part I succeeded (We all know that a book is never really finished; there are always questions to answer, a caption to rewrite, etc., etc.). But there I was last week trying to put together a book proposal and finding myself frustrated.

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On the surface, the book will be about Vivien Thomas, a brilliant African-American man growing up in the Jim Crow South who wasn't able to finish medical school because a bank failure wiped out his savings. Fate led him to a job as lab assistant (his job title was really janitor) with Alfred Blalock, an equally gifted white surgeon and researcher who recognized Thomas's intelligence and drive. They had a complex thirty-four year long partnership that ushered in a new era of cardiac medicine and helped launch modern heart surgery.

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Information on their important work and their working relationship is reasonably easy to come by. They were known and remembered by hundreds of colleagues and students. And Thomas's autobiography is a extrodinarily detailed study of what they did together and how they began to rely on one another to advance various medical research projects. And we know something about each one's personal life and feelings. For the most part the latter information is all surface, the obvious, observable things that make up the framework of any biography. But for me something vital was missing.

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I wanted to know what Thomas felt about his place in life and in Blalock's laboratory. What he really felt. Did he feel trapped, abused, frustrated, angry, disappointed? Was he ever sad about how his life had turned out or annoyed at how his hard work was rarely acknowledged in the world of medicine outside Blalock's lab? There is nothing in his autobiography to suggest deep resentment; in fact, he comes across as remarkably even-tempered and content. Saintly even. But below those calm waters there could have been (should have been?) some swirling current, some bitterness or distaste or confusion. Or maybe there wasn't; maybe Thomas was able to accept what had been dealt to him through some powerful, inner calm. And what about Blalock? What did he really feel about Thomas? He liked and respected him, that much is clear? But what else? Never once in their many years together did Blalock invite Thomas or his family to dinner. And when Blalock celebrated his 60th birthday with a grand party attended by scores of his peers, Thomas was there -- as the bartender. Was living in the South and unbendable social customs the answer? Or was there something else? It's this deeper connection between the two men or the lack of it that I wanted to find.
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Searching for this information wasn't what was frustrating me; that's half the fun of putting together a book. It was that without knowing what I might find, I wasn't able to 'see' the shape of the book or even envision a loose narrative line.

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That's when I had the dream.

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In it I was standing on NY City subway platform, waiting for a train. A man appeared nearby and I nodded to him and said, "Happy New Year." He smiled and answered, "Out with the old, in with the new." I recall thinking that was an odd response when the light of an in-coming train appeared and the platform began to shake. The next second a beautiful, old-fashioned Santa Fe streamliner went sailing past almost soundlessly, a great, improbable blur of shiney silver metal and running lights. Where did it come from, I wondered. I leaned out and saw its red lights fading, fading, fading away as it sped up the tunnel. And where was it going? Certainly not to the 72nd Street station. Somewhere distant and exotic and unknown.

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And the next day when I went back to the proposal, I remembered that streamliner and its disappearing up the tracks and suddenly the route my book would take becam

3 Comments on Out With the Old, In With the New, last added: 1/11/2011
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24. We Get No Respect

A while back I was asked to be a judge for the NSK Neustadt Prize for Children's Literature. The award is presented every other year for "significant achievement" in children's books and is sponsored by World Literature Today and the University of Oklahoma. And aside from a nifty silver medallion, the recipient also gets a very hefty check for $25,000. That certainly got my attention.
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At first I was going to turn down the request. I was already a judge for another book award, had several articles to deliver, and, oh, yeah, I was trying to write a book or two. Then I looked at the list of past nominees. Of the previous 26, only a small handful were dedicated writers of nonfiction. The number was a little disappointing, of course, and I'm sure I scowled. That's when I noticed something else. No one had ever put forward David Macaulay for the award!
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Now that I couldn't believe. I remember the impact Macaulay's first book, Cathedral, had back when it was published in 1973. It was such a dazzling departure from what had been done in the past that it changed the world of children's books forever and even (in my opinion anyway) influenced the way picture books are created (think Chris Van Allsburg; think Mordicai Gerstein's The Man Who Walked Between the Towers). And he followed this first book with a long list of other amazing, humorous, and informative titles that earned him one award after another.
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Step 1 as a judge was to write a piece explaining why our nominees deserved the award. Mine was six pages long, a passionate and detailed look at his books and the impact they had (and if anyone would like to read it I'd be happy to e-mail it to you). For step 2, we had to choose a representative book of the individual's work. I chose Mosque, not only because it is a clear and beautiful description of the construction and many uses of a mosque, but also because it was published after 9/11, which I felt made a brave and needed statement about a misunderstood and often maligned religion (and a glance at recent headlines suggests it's just as relevant today). The written pieces and books were then shared among all eight judges.
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When I and the other judges met later via a phone conference, we began by making an oral presentation of our candidates. Before the actual voting there was a brief period of time to make additional comments. Here's where things got a bit sticky. After a few minutes of amiable small talk, a soft, hesitant voice said, "I'm not sure how anyone else feels, but I responded the least to the David Macaulay book...." She said more, but what I heard instead were several other judges making sounds of agreement.
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Yes, I did rush to defend Macaulay's work, but it was clear he stood no chance. Don't get me wrong. All of the judges were thoughtful, extremely intelligent and articulate, and caring people who clearly loved children's literature. And every author nominated deserved to win. I know several of them and secretly hoped they would take the award if Macaulay didn't.
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What hurt was that the non(ie., not)fiction book was probably toast before the race actually began (even though I'd still argue that Macaulay's contribution to children's literature has been monumental). The emotional impact of fiction is immediate and visceral, and moves readers in a profound wa

8 Comments on We Get No Respect, last added: 11/10/2010
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25. When falling In Love Is A Bad Thing

The last time we chatted (see my 9/14 I.N.K. entry) I had followed my inner voice -- that muse inside my head who guides me through the writing process by asking questions, making endless comments and suggestions, and nagging me constantly about this thing and that -- and wound up with a 311 page text about George Washington's first six months as commander of the Continental army. For kids 8 to 12 years old!
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This would never do, of course. Not only was the text wildly long for the majority of my intended readers, it was 200 pages over the contracted page limit. Yes, I had known the text would come in long for many, many months, but I'd continued pushing the text forward to work out the book's themes and overall structure. Besides the writing was going smoothly and I wanted to see where it would lead, especially with regards to the dramatic action sequences. So it was all my own fault -- and don't think my inner voice didn't let me know. Every so often, it would suddenly blurt out, "Just be ready to delete a lot of this stuff, Murphy."
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When I finished I wasn't in a panic. Well, not a big one anyway. I knew I had a great deal of work to do and knew it would take time to accomplish. So I took a deep breathe and launched into the revision.
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At this point my # 1 priority was to cut as much of the text as possible without completely destroying the narrative story line and flow. I did what every writer does: I read each sentence carefully and analyzed it to see what needed to stay and what could go, cutting a word or phrase here, a paragraph there. Some of this was quite easy. There is always excess fat that needs to be trimmed. Some deletions were more problematic. I might slash a paragraph and feel fine about the decision, only to realize later that the paragraph set up a crucial scene and needed to be restored. After going through the entire text once, I went back for another try at it, ax in hand and ready to chop. When the dust finally cleared, I sat back to look at the text and was shocked by what I found. After weeks of work I had managed to cut the text by a measily 7 1/2 pages!
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Now the panic set in for real. I had focused on cutting the text and had pushed the delete key hundreds and hundreds of times. I thought I'd been brutal on my writing, had attacked it with single-minded purpose. But the manuscript was still over 300 pages long. What had gone wrong? It took several days, but the answer finally came to me. I had fallen into a common writer's trap. During the initial writing phase, I had lived with the text for months on end, had read over and massaged every word, every line, and every paragraph numerous times to get the text just right -- and I'd fallen in love with what I'd written. I couldn't see the flaws, so I couldn't devise a solution. Didn't want to really because I thought I'd already worked out all the problems. In effect, my inner voice -- that ever present critic I counted on to help me make the text as perfect as possible -- had followed me down this path as well and couldn't really point out the problems or a solution either.
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What to do now, aside from panicking completely. Here a more rational and calm voice finally chimmed in. Clearly, I had lost the ability to view my text with perspective; logic suggested that the best way to get my perspective back was to put as much distance between me and the text as possible. I needed a vacation from my words, and not just one that lasted a few hours or even days. I needed to get as far away from the manuascript for as long as possible.

3 Comments on When falling In Love Is A Bad Thing, last added: 10/12/2010
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