August 08, 2007
A Voice from the Past
Remember me? I'm supposed to be writing this blog. Evidently, I forgot about that.
Honestly, I haven't posted for a variety of good reasons. Being the forgiving sorts that you are, I know you will graciously accept my humble apology. One of the main reasons I haven't posted is that I wanted to post some Newbery photos but I seem to have lost the CD and no matter how much I hint, I can't seem to get my daughter to get her photos to me. So just imagine me looking stunning (picture Julia Roberts. Only shorter. And with smaller lips) and stunned. It was the most amazing weekend of my life and I am very touched by the comments and emails you've sent saying you enjoyed your trip to D.C. through my blog.
I am reeling, once again, this time from my trip to the national SCBWI conference in LA. If you've never gone, start saving your pennies. Where else can you hear Sid Fleischman, Sara Pennypacker, Susan Patron and John Green speak? Both Marla Frazee and Linda Sue Park did presentations with their editors, Allyn Johnston and Dinah Stevenson, respectively. If any of these women ever get tired of the book biz, they have great careers in stand-up comedy.
Walter Dean Myers kicked off the conference with a thoughtfully exquisite talk on how details make the story. He got us all thinking about craft and the conference program kept us on that high-ground throughout. Not that we didn't get into the nitty-gritty of marketing: Rubin Pfeffer, Senior VP and Publisher at Simon and Schuster, was brutally honest about the book biz and still offered hope. Agents Kate Schafer and Tracey Adams offered a unique side-by-side perspective of the worlds of small and large agencies.
We were enthralled by the art of Peter Brown, Kadir Nelson and, already mentioned, Marla Frazee in visually stimulating sessions. We laughed (and cried) with John Green, Ellen Wittlinger, Lisa Yee and Lee Bennett Hopkins. And those are just the keynoters! I can't begin to do justice to the different workshops/breakout sessions I attended.
I had a terrific time presenting one of my fav workshops on Voice and doing a joint workshop on making connections (aka, networking) with Write Sister, Ann Whitford Paul. My least favorite time of the whole conference was Monday morning between 5 am and 10:45 - before I gave my keynote. I was so nervous; I could hardly remember my own name. And then darling Write Sister, Tricia Gardella (who isn't even writing anymore!) drove seven hours (well, the way she drives, probably only five) from Jamestown, CA, just to be there for me as I gave my keynote. Of course, I burst into tears the minute I saw her. But that tells you what it means when you have true friends. Jeff Patneaude, son of Dave Patneaude, who's in my Seattle critique group, helped me (okay, he did 99.9 % of the work) me make a short film which I used to kick off my keynote. I wish he could have been there to hear the lively audience reaction! I'm hoping to get it posted on my website so stay tuned.
We heard a Mongolian throat-singer Friday night, wore our silvery best and danced till dawn (okay: 10:30) on Saturday night, were moved and inspired by Sunday's Golden Kite acceptance speeches and devoured cupcakes on Monday at the wrap-up autograph party.
I've missed huge chunks of the conference here. Check out the blogs of Alice Pope, Lisa Yee or Sara Holmes for more detail.
Heartfelt thanks to Lin Oliver, Stephen Mooser and the SCBWI "dream team" for the best conference ever. I may even think about going to New York in February! Maybe I'll see you there.
Posted by kirby at 06:41 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 27, 2007
D.C. Diary
Remember the birthday you really, really wanted a new bike with pink streamers on the handles and the cool banana seat and you got it?
That's what the last few days of my life have been like. Only better. Last Wednesday, Neil and I flew to Washington, D.C., where we were picked up by the kind and generous Edie Ching, librarian extraordinaire. Edie served on the Newbery committee and when she and I met in Seattle in January, it was like we were old friends. I think her husband is now used to all the stray authors (and their spouses) that Edie drags home. At any rate, he cheerfully barbecues for said authors, even in the rain.
I slept in Thursday (Edie said I was the princess so I could!) and then we were driven back to the city where Neil and I spent the rest of the day sightseeing. We aged Edie a few years when we told her we'd sought shelter under a tree during a rain shower -- evidently not a bright idea in lightning country. Except for getting wet, we thoroughly enjoyed our time wandering through the Museum of the American Indian, the Botanical Gardens, the National Gallery and many monuments. My new favorite is the Franklin Delano Roosevelt which captures many of FDR's wise words, including, "I hate war."
Friday, Edie -- who volunteers there -- took us for a whirlwind tour of the National Cathedral before delivering us to our hotel where we caught up with the arriving family. Saturday night, Random House hosted a lovely cocktail party and dinner. I was introduced to several people and then saw a man I hadn't met yet. I held out my hand and introduced myself. "I'm Jerry Spinelli," he replied. What else could I do but curtsy? He laughed and then I told him how much I loved his new Star Girl book. I later shared a taxi with Lois Lowry (going to dinner) and David Almond (coming back); talk about star gazing!
Sunday morning kicked off with a book signing. I was touched by all the Hattie fans in line. Afterwards, I took a quick tour around the conference floor, greeting old publishing friends and making new ones. Then off to a lunch, hosted by Random House, celebrating the members of the Newbery committee. What tickled me most is that these passionate, articulate, warm, professional librarians are really proud of "their" books. I felt even more honored by the Honor after meeting all fifteen committee members.
I hope you're still with me on this post. I know it's long. And there are no photos (yet) because some Newbery Honor winner (whose name we won't mention) forgot to bring the charger for her digital camera so her spouse had to run out to buy a disposable camera and those photos aren't ready yet. As soon as they are, I'll post them. I promise!
So here's the part you're waiting to read. The Newbery Banquet. Short version: WOW!
Slightly longer version: much chaos and merriment at the pre-banquet VIP reception, with cameras flashing right and left as groups formed and morphed -- the Newbery Committee, the Caldecott Committee, the Newbery Committee with the award winners, the award winners by themselves. . . you get the picture. If we weren't dazed before this photo-fest, we certainly were after, thanks to all the flashes going off.
Then it was time to head to the banquet room. A room filled with a thousand of my new best friends. Any discouragment you might be feeling about the future of books is completely obliterated when you see all those people who can't imagine a future without books.
I got to sit with Neil and several Newbery committee members, with Judy Blume across the table from me. I actually enjoyed my dinner and didn't feel nervous at all until Geri Kladder, Newbery Committee chair, stood up to speak. Then I began to shake.
And I got even shakier when she began to talk about Hattie. She described the story so beautifully, it made me want to read it. Just before she called me to come up to receive my plaque, I glanced over at the nearby table and saw my dad. Crying.
This is something I have never, ever seen before. So that when Geri said to come up, I couldn't do anything else but walk over and kiss my father. And then my mother. And then Tyler grabbed me in a hug and I kissed Quinn and Matt. I'm sure the folks in the back thought I'd gotten lost on my way to the stage.
I wasn't lost, except in the magical, life-changing moment. I climbed the stairs and stepped across the stage -- wearing the dress my daughter had picked out for me and the bracelet of stones my Write Sisters had selected -- carrying the love and support of all my family, all of my friends, and accepted that unbelievable award.
Following the ceremony (bravo to Susan Patron for a heart-felt and honest acceptance speech), we all stood in a receiving line for nearly 2 hours, shaking hands. Near midnight, I turned into a pumpkin and we headed back to our hotel for a glass of champagne.
I was beyond exhausted when I crawled into bed and fell immediately asleep. Then I woke up at 2:30. With an idea of how to fix the manuscript I'd set aside a month or so ago. And I smiled. Because though the fuss and fanfare is terrific, writers write.
And I'm ready to get back to work.
Posted by kirby at 12:51 PM | Comments (4)
June 18, 2007
Newbery Nerves
Okay. My stomach has been at 30,000 feet all day today and the rest of me doesn't get airborn until Wednesday. I'm more nervous about the Newbery banquet than I was about my own daughter's wedding. At least for that, I knew all I had to do was stand up when the processional played. There are so many unknowns in D.C.!
At least I have a dress for the banquet, thanks to Quinn. If I only eat carrots between now and Sunday, it should fit just fine.
And I have a stunning bracelet, with bits of my Write Sisters entwined, to encircle my wrist. I feel so blessed to be loved and supported by this amazing group of women. I also have a huge posse coming to support me in our nation's capital: darling Neil, to whom Hattie Big Sky is dedicated; oldest child Tyler; baby girl Quinn and her adorable husband, Matt; and the two people who are responsible for my even being around, my parents, Dave and Donna Miltenberger. I'm going to post a picture of the two of them, with baby Kirby in the oven. There cannot be two cuter parents anywhere in the world!
I was feeling a bit silly about my entourage but then Susan Patron made me feel better by saying her crew is going to take up two whole banquet tables!
And then I realized what a stupid thing to feel silly about. I have people (and Susan does too!) who care enough to come all the way to Washington, D.C. to eat rubber chicken!
That made me feel like Lou Gehrig, without the reverb.
Today (and every day) I am the luckiest woman in the world.
Posted by kirby at 09:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 21, 2007
Bird Bits
Those of you who have been reading this blog for awhile know about the flower basket fiasco last year. A chickadee had built a nest in one of the baskets hanging on our front porch and, with the wedding coming, my husband -- forgetting about the precious little eggs -- fertilized all the baskets. It was a tragic day at our house, let me tell you. Thank God, the intrepid chickadee made another nest, in another basket and life went on.
The first weekend of May, this year, my husband got up at the crack of dawn and went to our local hardware store to get in on their fuschia basket sale. He got five, three for our front porch and one for each of our mothers. Because we were helping Quinn and Matt move into their new (new to them) house, we didn't get our fuschias hung until Mother's Day. As soon as Neil got out the step stool, a little chickadee flew to the lilac bush nearby, scolding up a storm. It was as if she was chewing us out for not getting them hung earlier!
Within a day, that little bird had built a nest. I didn't check the nest for a few days after that, but when I did I found 4 perfect sky-blue eggs.
There is something so affirming and uplifting in this whole situation. There will be some who try to say she was only following her instincts, but I feel there is forgiveness in her gesture, which is accepted with gratitude. There is also an invitation, too, to receive the small miracles each day offers.
I've been so busy, I've been missing that important aspect of life: the small miracles in each day. And missing them in each day also means I've been missing them in my writing. That little chickadee and her precious eggs inspired me anew to set priorities. I said no to three requests for my time today! Those nos, of course, will lead to yesses somewhere, hopefully in my work. Yesses to the nests I can build from fluffs of words, awkward bits of sentences and tangles of paragraphs. Yesses to nests for my own creations.
Not as elegant as those four eggs, but creations all the same.
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April 24, 2007
Hot Women of Children's Literature
Last week, I inaugurated the Hot Women of Children's Literature. Thanks to all of you who have written in support of this project. I acknowledge that my definition of "hot" may be different than Paris Hilton's. Or Miss Snark's. Or my 15-year-old neighbor's down the street. My mother -- one of the wisest and hottest women I know -- raised me on the creed, "pretty is as pretty does." So I tend to think hotness is more about what one does than what one looks like.
What's really hot is being able to write historical fiction that haunts, touches and educates readers. This week's Hot Woman has done that so many times, with Our Only May Amelia, the Jane Peck adventures and Penny from Heaven. I was reading the latter title while walking on the treadmill at the gym and nearly broke my neck when I was so engrossed in the book that I didn't realize the treadmill had stopped treading!
The hottest thing of all about Jennifer Holm is that she is planning to attend the ALA Newbery Awards banquet less than two weeks after delivering a child!
I'd like to see George Clooney do that.
Thanks to EM for nominating this week's Hot Woman of Children's Literature.
Posted by kirby at 10:28 PM | Comments (2)
April 16, 2007
Introducing: the Hot Women of Children's Literature
Blame jet lag or the inept and overly chatty driver who picked me up at SeaTac today as I returned home from a fantastic trip to the Texas Library Association in San Antonio. But I'm checking in, cranky, cranky, cranky. I overheard a mom in an elevator at the Marriott RiverCenter teasing her daughter: who ate a big piece of grouchy pie?
Me.
I'm grouchy because the brilliant, warm and amazing Mitali Perkins fretted on her blog about having no line at TLA while Mo Willems' line snaked around the proverbial block. I'm grouchy because smart, sassy, stunning women writers never get mentioned on anyone's "hottest women in children's literature list." I'm grouchy because I can't figure out why the very few men writers in the children's lit world garner so much more attention than the women writers.
So rather than just gripe, I’m taking the initiative and starting what I think is the first and only “Hot Women of Children’s Literature” (playing off of Betsy Bird’s “Hot Men of Children’s Literature”). The debut pick for my HWOCL is (drumroll please!) Mitali Perkins. She’s smart, sassy and hot. Not just on the outside, but on the inside where it really counts. She writes books with heart and tenderness and takes her readers to places most of them have never been, like Bangladesh. I read Rickshaw Girl on the plane on the way home and added it to my list of favorite chapter books. Best of all, Rickshaw Girl is illustrated by a former Institute of Children's Literature student of mine, Jamie Hogan. How great it that?
I’m not going to even try and keep up with the prolific Betsy with my posts, but as I meet new candidates for the HWOCL, I’ll post them. And if you have any recommendations, send ‘em my way!
Hey, I'm not so grouchy anymore.
My husband and cat are both very glad about that.
Posted by kirby at 08:40 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
February 23, 2007
In Support of Susan Patron
As the Newbery Honor recipients we wanted to share our feelings on the current Newbery discussions. We are delighted and honored to be in the wonderful company of Susan Patron and her incredible book, The Higher Power of Lucky. We support her creative vision and hope that the present controversy will not overshadow her remarkable achievement. Readers everywhere, young and old, are truly lucky to have such a book in their schools, libraries, stores, and in the world.
• Jennifer Holm, author of the 2007 Newbery Honor Book, PENNY FROM HEAVEN, (Random House Books for Young Readers)
• Kirby Larson, author of the 2007 Newbery Honor Book, HATTIE BIG SKY (Delacorte Press)
• Cynthia Lord, author of the 2007 Newbery Honor Book, RULES (Scholastic Press)
Posted by kirby at 01:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 12, 2007
Flying South
Like many of the birds I so enjoy watching, I am flying south. Not for the winter -- just for a week. I leave at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning and will be without internet, lattes and other creature comforts. I can't wait!
This time, I'm better prepared for the bugs that find me so darned tasty. My new wardrobe includes no Donna Karan but a lovely ensemble from Bug-Off brand clothing. And instead of Pure Grace, my usual fragrance, I'll be wearing eau de Jungle Juice. This year, I hope to lose the contest for getting the most bug bites (last year, upon my arrival home, Neil had to drive me straight from the airport to the doctor for a cortisone shot!) instead of winning it.
Jen Robinson mentioned one of my recent blog entries in which I celebrate some of the good things I've seen happen lately. Here's one more thing to celebrate: some generous reader of this blog donated $200 to our team! Thanks to that donation, and others, we'll be able to buy supplies and materials for the people whose homes we'll be rebuilding. And I already have the can't-sleep-Christmas-Eve-wiggleworms knowing that 150 kids at Pointe aux Chenes school will be getting all those wonderful books, donated by Scholastic.
Now, I really do have to get packed. I'll meet you here when I get back!
Posted by kirby at 01:50 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 07, 2007
The Glass is more than Half Full
What could be better than winning a Newbery Honor Award? (don't say winning the Newbery Medal because if you win that, you have to give a Very Important Speech. Jenni, Cynthia and I just get to dress up, sit at the grown up's table and party; poor Susan has to give a talk!). Okay, maybe nothing's better but there are some things that fill one's heart up just as well.
Two cases in particular:
One -- A lovely gentleman named Richard Baldwin chose to honor his late wife in a most amazing way. Since she was a former 8th grade teacher, he decided to help every single 8th grader at Meany Junior High in Seattle buy $30 worth of books. Every single kid. $30. Before sales tax. And I got to be part of this incredible gift. Today, at the University Bookstore on the Ave, three groups of smart-alecky, polite, serious, wacky, hormonal 14-year-olds heard me talk about writing Hattie Big Sky. Then they were turned loose to buy any books -ANY BOOKS -- they wanted, up to $30. They bought Manga, poetry, sports books, and Bibles. They bought vampire love stories, comic collections and picture books for siblings. Some even bought Hattie Big Sky (which killed me because it's only available in hardcover so it was one-half of their budget). I wanted to freeze frame the entire day, laminate it and put it in my wallet to carry around forever, that's how incredible it was.
Two -- I am leaving on Tuesday, February 13 for a week of Katrina clean-up work in Louisiana. This is my second trip there. I was intent on wielding my hammer, etc. but my husband got a bee in his bonnet to call the superintendent of the school district to see if they might like a visit from an author. Would they! So now I am scheduled to share my love of writing and a cup of tea with the students, all 150 of them, at Pointe aux Chenes Elementary School on February 15. I cannot wait! But there's more! I contacted the folks at Scholastic to see if they'd be willing to donate copies of Second Grade Pig Pals to the students (the book is only available through the Scholastic Book Club now). Not only did they say YES! they are donating a package of 4 books to each and every one of those 150 kids. Who come from families who rarely finish school. Whose families have been flooded out numerous times. Whose families live in an area that is sinking.
There is a lot of crappy (sorry, Mom, but sometimes one has to use strong language) stuff going on in the world. But days like today remind me there is a lot of good stuff, too.
And it's so great to be part of the good stuff!
Posted by kirby at 09:09 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 25, 2007
Early Morning Phone Calls
I guess your average person of normal intelligence would have tumbled to something being up upon receiving a 6:30 am phone call on January 22, 2007, the day the BIG awards would be announced.
Now you know where that puts me. Picture this: me drooling on my pillow. Hair a complete mess. Phone rings: "Is this Kirby Larson?' (me: intelligently) "Yes."
"The Kirby Larson who wrote Hattie Big Sky?"
(me: even more intelligently) "Yes."
"blurble blurble blurble. . . Newbery Honor . . . blurble blurble blurble."
Heart stops. Breath stops. Husband grabs his phone to dial 911, calling for aid all the while envisioning potential trophy wife. Clicks off phone. Un-trophy wife begins breathing again, babbles something -- we hope it was thank you -- and off we both go to fight godawful Seattle traffic to be present for THE announcement (after 25 years of commuting to downtown Seattle, Neil knows quite a few short cuts).
Had I dreamed about this moment? Heck, yeah. Had I ever thought it possible? Heck, no.
We live in an earthquake zone so I should be prepared. But I was not prepared for the jolt this particular phone call would deliver. By the time I arrived home from the press conference at the Seattle Convention Center on Monday morning, I had over 100 congratulatory emails.
I am still waiting for the call to tell me it was all a huge mistake.
While I was awake on the night/morning of Jan. 21/22 (overly spiced Italian food for dinner), I composed a potential post to this blog. Here's the opening line I created in those early morning hours: "While it is wonderful to be considered for so many awards (i.e., BBYA, the Cybils, etc), the real prize for any writer is touching readers."
Okay, so I won the big prize. But the thing is, I win prizes every single day in the form of emails and letters, from all over this great country, from people who have read Hattie's story and been touched by it somehow.
I will get a lovely silver medal in June (at least, I think I will!) but, honestly, nothing beats the fact that three years of lonely, lonely work got me countless readers. And my kids -- busy folks that they are -- are scrambling to figure out how to get to D.C. for the awards ceremony. My Write Sisters are also trying to figure out how to get there. Same for my parents. Ditto for many other darling friends. I am so blessed.
I haven't been able to sleep the last few nights. There has been too much noise coming from heaven - my grandmother and great-grandmother are throwing one heck of a party. They may get kicked out. And I don't think it's because of my grandma's devilled eggs.
I am humbled beyond belief at this honor. And I owe this whole wonderful, exciting ride to two women: Hattie Inez Brooks Wright and Lois Thomas Wright Brown.
I wish you'd known them. I wish they were still here.
Oh, wait. I won the Newbery! That must mean they still are.
Posted by kirby at 08:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 17, 2007
In the Lace Leaf Maple
While it's clear I don't have a future as a photographer for National Geographic, I was able to capture "my" hummingbird this morning. As soon as I find my bird book, I'll tell you what kind of hummer he (she?) is. For now, I call him Fred Astaire, because he is so light on his feet.
Posted by kirby at 11:19 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
My New Mentor
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January 16, 2007
Snow Place like Home
I've just returned from teaching for ten days at the Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA program residency where not even a power outage could dim the light of learning. (I do have to say that the recent power outages I've gone through have made me realize I much prefer writing about pioneers to being one).
There is the sweetest little hummingbird who's adopted us. He sat patiently in our lace-leaf maple this morning while I got him fresh food (the feeder was frozen). After getting his fill of the new nectar, he's adjourned again to the maple where he is most un-hummer-like in his stillness. I worried that he might be too cold but then it occurred to me that he's modeling for me what I need to do: just sit for awhile, myself, with all the new and tasty information I've dined on over the past ten days.
From Brian Doyle, editor of Portland, the magazine of the University of Portland alumni publication (this is not your average alumni mag), I was reminded that there are stories all around me. I simply need to extend my antenna. John Calderazzo, nonfiction writer and professor at Colorado State University, challenged me to write up the presentation I gave on finding the story in history for The Writer or Writer's Digest. His thoughts on writing from our memories led me to fill several pages in my journal. Former editor at Rodale and Running Press, Deborah Grandinetti, made me laugh out loud when she reminded us that "we writers send our thought children out, expecting they'll be welcomed with a warm blanket not knowing we're sending them out to dysfunctional families." As always, my permanent faculty colleagues -- Lisa Dale Norton, Bruce Holland Rogers (winner of a World Fantasy Award!), David Wagoner, Carolyne Wright and Susan Zwinger-- took me to a new place in my writing. I'm still glowing from David's compliment about my reading of the first chapter of my NaNoWriMo project.
Visiting agent, Regina Brooks, wins the "best sport" award for suffering through the power outage and a rotten cold. Seattle agent, Elizabeth Wales, is a fine and thoughtful human being who described agents as "benevolent parasites" and left us with this thought: "If you aren't failing, you aren't interesting." Joining us for the last few days was Rita Rosenkranz, who reminded us that "rejection won't go away if we're doing our jobs" as writers. All three of these agents were so warm and generous, I'm worried they may get kicked out of the agent club!
So, now that I've shared the highlights with you, I'm going to play hummingbird and give myself a day or so of rest to absorb all the rich, challenging, and thought-provoking nourishment of the residency.
Right after I go out and make a snow angel.
Posted by kirby at 02:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 28, 2006
New York Noshes
We just spent Thanksgiving with our son in New York. Tyler lives in DUMBO -- Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass -- in a neighborhood he loves. My favorite way to get to his apartment is to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge, completed shortly after the Civil War. Not only does this bridge provide a spectacular view of the city, it connects me with the past.
Other highlights of our trip east: watching the balloons being blown up for the Macy's parade on Wednesday night (we were there with 5 or 6 million of our closest friends); paying a visit to the Met and my all time favorite painting of Joan of Arc, by Jules Bastien-Lepage -- an immense canvas, maybe 10 feet wide by 15 feet high -- as she hears her voices for the first time; breakfast at Scotty's Diner (okay, not my favorite but Neil loves it); window shopping on 5th Avenue; watching the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center; being able to walk in a crowd any time of day or night. I also got the chance to visit my editor, Michelle Poploff -- I won the editorial lottery with her -- and the great people at Delacorte/Random House. Did I mention that on Monday, when we left, it was 65 degrees as we strolled through Central Park and that we came home to snow and 26 in Seattle?
I noticed something this trip to the Big Apple. Everywhere I went, people were reading. Nine out of ten subway riders are reading something: a book, a magazine, Bibles, subway schedules, textbooks, subway poems, graffiti. And the bookstores! I could hardly walk through the aisles without tripping over someone crouched over in philosophy or world history or humor. And there were hip looking teens with books in their hands -- one young couple was completely intertwined, each reading separate titles. I'd never seen anything so cool in my whole life!
As a writer, this was, of course, a great comfort to me. There are people buying, borrowing and reading books! My accountant is thrilled. But, more importantly, this was a comfort to me as a person, as an American, as a member of this more-than-slightly mixed up world. Because if people read, they can't help but think. If people read, they can't help but see new sights, hear new sounds, feel new feelings. If people read, they may act in new ways.
People aren't reading?
Fuggedaboutit.
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October 26, 2006
Magic Moments
Mr. A was Quinn's 5th grade teacher. We loved him to pieces and he became such a part of our family that when he got married, Quinn was part of his wedding (to the charming and vivacious Amanda Bowker). When Quinn got married in September, Tim and Amanda's daughter, Emma, was her flower girl. Emma noted that when she got married, Quinn's daughter would be her flower girl. Don't you love the circular nature of life?
Here are Quinn and Emma, captured by photographer Jennifer Stanton of The Cottage Photographer.
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October 20, 2006
Hattie Big Cry
I am an incurable optimist by trade. But even I began to see visions of glasses half-full when first one, then two, then three, then four, then five years passed without a book sale. During that time, I was losing my beloved maternal grandmother, on top of some other personal stressors. Let's just say, I was safely off the chart on sad.
Ironically, it was my sweet grandmother who planted the seed for Hattie Big Sky. One day when I was with her (not the day she told me she was glad she'd never had children), she said, "The only time Mom was ever afraid was in the winter, when the wild horses stampeded." I had no idea what she was talking about -- and it seemed like she didn't either. Some nosing around led me to discover that Mom -- Hattie Brooks Wright, the woman who raised my grandmother -- had homesteaded in Montana. It was hard to imagine that tiny woman doing anything but raising gladiolus and baking Snickerdoodles but I was soon to uncover proof that she had, single-handedly, proved up on a claim near Vida, Montana in 1918.
Now, I have never been a history buff. Dates and wars and all that jazz did not float my boat. But trying to imagine how a young woman might plow 40 acres of Montana desert prairie and set an ungodly number of rods of fence kept me awake nights. At first, it was an innocent obsession -- reading the occasional book or journal about homesteading in the 20th century. Soon, it was hard to hide my compulsion from my family. I was booking Amtrak specials to places like Wolf Point, talking about "bobbed wire" and burning cow chips in our back yard (don't ask). And I figured out why Mom had been afraid in the winter, when the wild horses stampeded (email me at kirby@kirbylarson.com and I'll tell you why).
Before I knew it, I was writing a novel. I didn't know it was a young adult novel until one of my critique group members, Kathryn Galbraith, pointed it out to me. I was just trying to tell Hattie's story. To tell my grandmother's story. To tell my story. To tell the story of every young woman who has to fight something crappy in order to claim a space for herself in the world.
It took several years -- close to five -- to write this novel. It took ten days for Michelle Poploff at Delacorte to decide she wanted to publish it (buy me a latte sometime and I'll tell you about how many times I asked Michelle if she really, truly wanted to see the manuscript). As you know, it takes a couple of years for a book to come out.
On September 26, 2006 (ten days after our daughter's wedding), Hattie Big Sky hit the shelves.
Now we're to the crying part.
Every day since September 26, I 've gotten an email from someone who has read Hattie's story. And been touched by it. I've even heard from some men -- tough guys, too, like John Clayton! It is overwhelming. Truly.
I read these messages through watery eyes. And I reflect on the audacious set of circumstances that led two women who barely completed eighth grade to inspire me to overcome my dislike of history to write an historical novel . I reflect on the faith my husband had in me to pull this off. And on my own stubbornness to keep going, despite any signs of encouragement from the universe.
So excuse the sniffles. And humor me in letting you know that Hattie Big Sky has garnered two starred reviews (Booklist and School Library Journal); selection by the Junior Library Guild; by Borders, for their Original Voices program; and by Barnes & Noble, for their Teen Discover program. In addition, this book has gotten kind comments from Karen Cushman, Candace Fleming and actress Jane Kaczmarek (go to Hattie's site to check them out).
Twenty years ago, I began writing books for children because of Arnold Lobel's, Ming Lo Moves the Mountain. After I read it, I wanted to write stories that touched others the way his story had touched me. Thanks to my grandmother and great-grandmother, it seems I have done that.
I am humbled. And blessed.
And in need of another kleenex.
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June 18, 2006
Abba is not a Swedish Singing Group
My dad became at dad at 21 but he took to it as if he'd been doing it for eons. I'm not saying he was perfect. But he has been a darned good dad for, well, about 50 years (we don't need to get overly specific here.). A few of the points that earn him the good dad award:
He let me check any book out of the library when I was a kid, even when I didn't understand one blessed word.
He beat me at chess. Until I learned to beat him.
He opened his heart to each and every one of my friends.
He drove me to church when he didn't go himself.
He adored (and still adores) my mother.
He baited me in debates at the dinner table so I could learn to adequately defend my point of view.
He was always there for us kids, even when I'm sure he wanted to walk away.
He takes an interest in nearly everyone he meets.
I remember, as a kid, that my dad would often volunteer to run to the grocery store. Even if Mom only needed one thing on the list, he would be gone for hours. It wasn't that he was trying to get away from the 5 of us (okay; maybe he was). No; this was his chance to read. There, for free, in the grocery store, he could read the latest Louis A'mour or Ross MacDonald or whoever. And, because he was a fast reader, he could finish those books in one sitting. And close them back up, put them on the shelf, grab the milk and head home. From my dad, I learned that reading was a delight, a pleasure, a treat. That you could squeeze it in even if you had four little kids and no real prospects. There was always a new book, no matter what else had happened that day or that week.
So, I thank you, Dad. For the love and support and the bad jokes. But mostly for guiding me to the world of words.
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April 06, 2006
The Day After
I started preparing months ago for my talk, Voice Lessons: Finding Your Character's Perfect Pitch, for the Seattle chapter of the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators). As if speaking on that topic to my colleagues wasn't stressful enough, I had also decided to take my Power Point skills public for the first time.
All went well. I remained upright, there were no technical glitches, people laughed where I had hoped they would, there was great audience participation and great questions afterwards. Two strategies I shared that seemed to be really helpful to people were writing letters as your character to other characters in the story (even if these letters won't appear in the book itself) and generating lists of words that are organic to your character. To do this, you have to know how your character experiences and understands the world. For example, Hattie is a bad baker. So she knows about cakes that get flat or lumpy. That's why, when she describes the Montana landscape in a letter to Charlie, she writes: "Remember that sheet cake I baked last year for your birthday? Montana is a bit smoother of surface but not much." And she also plays baseball which is why I had her describe the hailstorm that ruined her crops like this: "Like a pitcher on fire, throwing fastball after fastball, heaven struck me out and good."
If you want to read one person's take on my talk, check out Jaime Temairik's chompoblog. Jaime is the marketing genius behind the first chapter sampler we've created. If you want one, email me.
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March 30, 2006
More about my trip to Pearlington
Click here to read a bit about my amazing week in Mississippi.
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Ch-ch-ch-changes
Due to a big Kirby-caused glitch, the blog was down for awhile. Thanks to my darling future son-in-law, Matt Wyatt, and web designer extraordinaire, Aaron Hedquist, for their help in getting things up and running again.
This is a year of stretching outside my comfort zone. I am learning to be a good marketer of my work (see Hattie Big Sky category), and I am now in training for the 3 Day Walk for the Cure (my husband says I will do anything for a new pair of shoes). I walked 4 miles this morning. Tomorrow I plan to get my 5 miles in by walking to my critique meeting with my friends, Rhonda and Maria. See a picture of me raring to go at my 3 Day personal HQ page.
Another big stretch was spending one week (March 7 -14) in Pearlington, Mississippi helping with Hurricane Katrina clean-up, My friend, Rushie, told me it was going to be a "life-alerting" experience and it was.
I wrote down some of my thoughts shortly after arriving home. You can read them above. If you get the chance to go help, go! So much help is still needed.
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