SCBWI Scholarship

I am so excited to say that my submission from Fly to the Hills, my middle grade historical fiction told in verse, earned me the Student Writer Scholarship to the SCBWI New York Winter Conference! Will you be there?

SCBWI events always include some incredible authors and illustrators, and this conference will not disappoint. I can’t wait to laugh through Jack Gantos‘s speech – he is charmingly quirky and smart! My high school students will be so jealous that I get to hear Ellen Hopkins talk about censorship. The unflinching topics she tackles in her verse novels for young adults have made many of my reluctant readers eager for more poetry. I’ve heard Kate Messner before at SCBWI events, and I am eager to be in workshops with her because she always offers hands-on advice you can apply immediately. I’m thrilled to be in Jane Yolen’s workshop on writing in verse since that’s the format that won me the scholarship. I fear I might go all fan-girl to hear historical fiction author Elizabeth Wein share her insights!

Though I have a deep love and affection for historical fiction, the manuscript that I am busy drafting now is a young adult book that slides into the post-high school year. Some might argue that those traits make it a New Adult book, and I’ll let you know if I agree after hearing from Tessa Woodward, an editor with HarperCollins.

If you write for children and aren’t yet a member of SCBWI, join today.

See you at the conference!

 

 

On Writing “Fly to the Hills”

In spring of 1874, in the hills of Williamsburg, Massachusetts the large reservoir on the Mill River was filled to capacity. An earthen dam commissioned by mill owners held back a staggering amount of water: nearly 600 million gallons. On the morning of May 16, 1874, dozens of mills filled with hundreds of workers as they did any other Saturday. While workers were settling in in front of their machines and families were eating breakfast, the dam gave way. The overseer of the dam saw the initial break and rode bareback to alert the townsfolk in the center of Williamsburg. Within minutes, a roaring wave of water 30 feet high raced through the four mill towns: Williamsburg, Skinnerville, Haydenville, and Leeds, before dumping the contents it gathered in its rampage through the villages onto the Florence meadows. All told 139 people were drowned that morning.

The disaster captured the attention of the nation. Newspapers covered the calamity extensively. It had all the elements of a great story – victims, villains, and heroes – four men who raced by horse downstream, just ahead of the flood waters, to warn the people in the villages. They were given gold medals.

The telegraph and newspapers spread the news of the flood quickly in 1874, but word of the flood took 135 years to reach me.

I still am surprised when I say this: a nonfiction history book I read in 2009 literally changed the direction of my career. As part of a workshop on waterpower in New England, Elizabeth Sharpe presented her book on the Mill River flood. I was transfixed.

In particular, the spare but compelling accounts of women, whose job it was to identify and prepare the dead, haunted me. What if I wrote a book about tone of them, a mill girl? What if it was 1873 and a young girl wanted more freedom? And what if there was an opportunity to work in a mill that was safe and reputable? And what if that mill happened to be downstream from a faulty dam? What if taking your only opportunity for independence meant living with the threat of flood every day? And what if that dam gave way?

Answering these questions led me to my protagonist, a mill girl. Like so many of the real-life women before her, Catherine Bardwell would be seeking independence and some extra income before settling down to marriage.

This is where the story stalled, because I ran into my first problem.

I had no idea how to write historical fiction. I was writing, sure, but it was a draft of a contemporary YA realistic novel? I was no history expert. I didn’t know if this was my story to tell.

It was a stroke of good luck that my Writing I instructor wrote historical novels. Jeannine Atkins encouraged me to follow the urge to try historical fiction, to see if those unanswered questions could lead to a narrative. Not only that, she wrote in verse! By the end of 2012, I was fully committed to the form – historical fiction in poetry.

Then, the writing stalled again.

I didn’t know where Catherine would live or work. I mean, I only had the choice of four villages. How hard could it be to decide?

In fact, it was more difficult than I’d imagined. I researched all the different mills that existed – buttons, wool, brass – but then this picture really convinced me to place Catherine in Skinnerville. Of the four villages, Skinerville was most thoroughly erased. Only one building stood: Skinner’s mansion, a symbol, I thought, of the divide between mill owner and worker – a physical depiction of class and capitalism that echoed some of the themes I’d been exploring in my writing.

And then there was Mr. Skinner. Her relationship with him is the core of the book. Placing Catherine in Skinnerville and having her develop a relationship with Mr. Skinner was the key to unlocking this story. Shortly after making that decision, I wrote a first draft of the novel.

This fall, things really picked up pace. I took a leave from my teaching job so I could devote myself to graduate school and this project. As part of my MFA mentorship, I worked with Katie Cunningham at Candlewick. The first thing we did was take that first disaster of a draft and restructure the novel (her first major revision note: don’t lead with the disaster!).

Just as I was completing my first revision for her, a friend told me about the Highlights Foundation Whole Novel Historical Fiction workshop. I applied for and was accepted into the group and given the scholarship I needed to attend. More importantly, my ever patient spouse agreed to take the five children for an entire week!

The Highlights retreat was an amazing opportunity to immerse myself in a community with 16 other people who care deeply about and are fully committed to this sub-genre: historical fiction for young people. I was privileged to work with Linda Pratt, an agent with an eagle eye for writing craft, and we had many conversations about writing in general and Fly to the Hills in particular. If you’d let me, I would spend an hour sharing all the practical tips and tricks that I learned from her and the other faculty members.

Now, my time at Highlights became another turning point for this novel.

Working with Linda and the other faculty members helped me understand two things. First, that I needed to embrace the fiction part of the novel. Second, that composite characters and a solid author’s note could free me from the bounds of “true history.” One day at highlights, I was talking over some plot points with Linda, and I said, “I think Skinner would offer this, but Catherine wouldn’t agree to that,” “Of course not,” Linda said. “You would know. She’s your character, after all.”

This fall has given the opportunity to reflect on myself as a writer. I write character-driven stories. And what I found out this fall, was doing it in historical fiction was really no different. Start with a character, put her in a setting, and give her challenges to face.

I like to think that the manuscript is not quite such a disaster now. Karen Hesse said “Once I knew it was my story to tell, there was no turning back.” It took four years to come to that understanding, but now I believe that know: this is my story to tell, and I can’t wait to share it with readers.

Querying an Agent

So, today I sent off my full manuscript to an agent as a formal query.

Wow. That’s pretty real.

I have my doubts that the manuscript was ready, but I wanted to respond to the agent’s offer to read the full and I have some other deadlines approaching, so….my best efforts went out today.

Wow. Asking an agent to represent your sweet little manuscript feels a lot like the first day at a new school.

I’ll keep you updated.

From Disaster to Manuscript: Writing Historical Fiction

Yesterday I gave a talk at the Eric Carle Museum of Picturebook Art. As part of my Master’s program, I talked about how I came to write my historical fiction novel. It was a wonderful experience, and I look forward to sharing the talk here…

But first, I really must get back to revising so I can send this off to an agent I think might like it!

Check back soon!

Making a Living as a Writer

I know that many of you, like me, are resolving to get more writing done in 2014.

But that’s not really a resolution – that’s something I remind myself every day when I wake up. Sometimes I try to quantify it by setting word counts, or by setting some blogging goal (once a week, a substantial post!). Getting more writing done really just serves that part of my soul that is bending under the weight of untold stories.

This year, though, I do have a shift in mind. For years, I have made the majority of my living from teaching skills to others – writing, mostly, with a little life lesson sprinkled in. For years, I have helped set the bar, asked students to achieve, and assessed their ability to meet my guidelines.

I’m done with that. I’m finished with assessing others and their writing – this is how I know I don’t want to go into editing or being an agent. I’m done with grading papers or even coming up with clever writing assignments. Teaching writing is NOT the only way to make a living as a writer!

This year, I’m ready to make my living from selling my words.

Now, to many people that means traditional or independent publishing of fiction. Yes, that is on my radar, and that is where I intend to put the bulk of my energy this year. I am much closer to that than I’ve ever been, and it’s because of this manuscript that is itching to get out the door and into the hands of my dream agent. But that’s not the only way to make money as a writer, and I think that it is important to make that clear to young or new writers.

I am making a living as a writer, that much is true. I beleive that 2014 is the year that my income stream really will shift from selling my teaching skills toward selling my written words. Wahoo! Now, back to the revisions!

Beyond Words: Aaron Becker’s Journey – My (Mock) Caldecott Winner

The most distinguished picture book of the year combines fantastical worlds with an engaging narrative arc. In Aaron Becker’s Journey, every illustration showcases the evocative power of watercolors and underscores the main theme of adventure.

Journey is about a lonely city girl who journeys into new lands through the power of her red marker, and it is this world-building that sets Becker’s work apart from his contemporaries. Though he demonstrates an eye for perspective and a definite talent with ink and watercolor, the success of his paintings is a result of how each distinct setting reflects the emotion and conflict at the core of the scene. For example, the initial full-bleed double spread indicates the girl’s loneliness and detachment from others: her family members are in separate boxes and the other children are separated from her by the gutter. When she attempts connection with the family, she is rebuffed and retreats to her own gray box, floating in an airframe, a wonderful depiction of her increasing loneliness. The next full-bleed double spread of the forest is magical and expansive, indicating an emotional shift toward hope. The two double-spreads of an outrageously complex waterfall city include detailed illustrations of an innovative castle, but it is the friendliness of the soldiers and her mid-page placement with upward diagonals that suggest a hopefulness at this point in the journey.

It is here that Becker’s storytelling skills become most evident, and he begins to focus on external conflicts. When the girl’s red boat drop out from under her, she recovers by drawing a hot air balloon. She shares a goodbye (and the verso) with the friendly guards but is placed in a new world, the clouds. In the next spread, the red of her balloon dominates the page and the girl is large, closer than she has ever been to the reader. However, our attention is attracted to the purple bird on the recto, and this careful use of expansiveness and the gutter heightens the tension of the scene. The series of illustrations that follow are dreary, and just when the flattest, gray composition implies that there is no hope, the page turn brings the warmth of a sunrise and the return of the red marker. The girl draws a magic carpet to escape and is transported to yet another world.

If Becker’s world-building is a mark of excellence, it is the art on the blank white pages that distinguishes this book from other wordless picturebooks. Every white page is a moment during which the protagonist takes action and changes the story. If the full bleeds give an understanding of place, the white pages give an understanding of the character. In the beginning she is lonely: she is ignored by her three family members. She is imaginative: she draws a door out of her boring life. She is resourceful: she draws a boat, a balloon, and a flying carpet when the need arises. She is brave: she climbs onto the golden pagoda and she steals the bird. She is empathetic: she fights against the guards that hold her. She is friendly: she co-creates a tandem bicycle when she meets the boy with the purple marker.

One of the great joys of the wordless picture book is the trail of hints left by the author. The repetition of modes of transportation on the end papers is only the beginning of the visual nods to travel. The children playing in the first spread have objects related to transportation, a bicycle and a skate board. There are a number of signifiers for movement in that setting as well: the stairwell, and the bird, and a winged figure on the top of one of the buildings that is the same shape as that which will appear on the golden pagoda. In her room there are symbols of voyage: a map, a poster of egypt, a hot air balloon hanging from the ceiling, stars and planets on her dresser, and a plane in the window. Even the title page is rich with symbolic images of travel: the scooter, the street signs, the intraiconic representation of the bus. It’s particularly fun to note that it is only when the cat moves off the drawing supplies (heaven knows how cats want to be on paper!) that she sees the marker that will be her escape. Each new read of this book reveals another layer of visual storytelling, and for these reasons and more, Journey deserves the Caldecott Award.

The Craft of Writing

A quote to inspire this week of revisions:

“Craft enables art.

There’s luck in art. There’s the gift. You can’t earn that. You can’t deserve it. But you can learn skill, you can earn it. You can learn to deserve your gift….

To make something well is to give yourself to it, to seek wholeness, to follow spirit. To learn to make something well can take your whole life. It’s worth it.”

– Ursula K. Le Guin, in “Steering the Craft”

This week, when I’m doing so much practicing of my craft, when I’m sitting down to look at the bones of my manuscript and how to make it as fully-formed as possible, I will remember that every writer must hone her skill. Every word I’ve ever written helps me as I face this revision. Doing right by this story means making it – and me – whole. 

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild – Mock Caldecott Pick #2

A Jaunty Chapeau to a Hawaiian Shirt – Peter Brown’s Mr. Tiger Goes Wild

(The second in my mock Caldecott Award series)

The 2014 Caldecott Award would be best represented by Mr. Tiger Goes Wild by Peter Brown, a story about an anthropomorphized animal who resists his place in civilization.

One outstanding aspect to this book is Brown’s graphic style. The use of limited color palette, swaths of white space, and simple shapes effectively evokes the emotional arc of the protagonist.

The three opening double-spreads are dominated by monochromatic gray-brown illustrations, signaling discontent. Mr. Tiger’s orange fur, pink nose, and bright speech bubbles are the focal point. Brown’s choice to avoid realism in favor of animals made from simple shapes evokes Ed Emberley’s drawing tutorial books. Simple lines on the animal’s faces indicate displeasure or happiness, and the rigidity of the rectangular bodies is a visual reminder of their inflexibility. The use of color to contrast Mr. Tiger and society is most dramatic when his friends banish him to the wilderness (21-22); the exclusive colors are gray for the verso, orange for the recto. In the pages following, the browns of the city are left behind for the greens and blues of the forest, indicating a change in emotion. Indeed, the Tiger initially seems happy to be in the forest, frolicking in the same ways he did when he first began to embrace his wild nature. However, even the forest becomes monotonous, and the green repeated shapes and his reduced size articulates his loneliness. When the rain begins, the forest becomes more tinged with gray, and the linear, vertical shape of the trees echoes the rectangular houses in the city. At the end of the book, when Mr. Tiger has chosen to return to the city, illustrations are more balanced in their use of color and horizontal shapes to show the citizens have achieved more balance in their lives. Ultimately, Mr. Tiger’s desire to subvert the rules of society change his community. Mr. Tiger foregoes the suit and instead wears a floral shirt, the short sleeves showing his stripes. His animal friends occasionally walk on four feet. By the end, other animals join him in the forest, all wearing hats but no clothes, while he wears neither. The shifting color palette and simple shapes then reinforces the deeper message of the book: that the place we live is not so important as expressing one’s true nature.

Mr. Tiger Goes Wild is also an exceptional picture book for its use of humor through illustration. The depiction of proper animals allows readers to see those characters as a proxy for adult humans. The refined nature of those animals is laughable, particularly when the horse says, “Now children, please do not act like wild animals” (4) or when the well-dressed animals shout their surprise out of the windows as Mr. Tiger races across the rooftops (15-16). The tiger himself is a source of humor, from his tongue-in-cheek greeting “Good day, Mr. Deer” (4), to the way he slips off of the page (7-8), to his first moment as a smiling, suit-wearing tiger on all four legs. His humor is highlighted when he embraces his wild side, chasing smaller, top-hat-wearing animals, climbing up a vertical building, sitting on a park bench, the hat finally off, with orange word bubble yelling ROAR! This roar becomes even more amplified when he is in the forest and it is so loud the word extends beyond the speech bubble. The pages most likely to gain a chuckle are those where Mr. Tiger breaks social conventions and goes swimming in a fountain. The humor is amplified with the page turn – he is naked!

Finally, the overall design of the book is outstanding in its commitment to the exploration between civilization and the wild. The end papers reinforce the differences visually: the front papers are grey brick while the back papers are repeating botanical shapes on a muted green background. The cover includes an image of the tiger wearing a top hat, the ultimate high-society chapeau. The back flap of the jacket also delicately underscores the story, a graphic self-portrait of the dapper author stating, “Hello. I am Peter Brown, and it is my professional opinion that everyone should find time to go a little wild.” Finally, the book itself becomes a tiger because if you remove the jacket, the boards are the tiger stripes, oriented as they would be if a tiger were walking in the wild. Mr. Tiger Goes Wild is a remarkable jaunt into the wilderness and back again.

Brown, Peter. Mr. Tiger Goes Wild. New York, NY: Little Brown &, 2013. Print.

Nelson Mandela by Kadir Nelson – A (Mock) Caldecott Pick

One of our tasks in my graduate class is to write arguments for which books should receive the Caldecott medal. Here’s paper 1 of 3. Stay tuned for my next picks!

Painting a Legacy: Kadir Nelson’s Nelson Mandela

The bold portrait on the cover of Kadir Nelson’s book Nelson Mandela is a promise that the paintings inside will be skillfully rendered, and the images within do not disappoint. Nelson Mandela is an outstanding interpretation of one man’s life and its impact on the world, and Kadir Nelson’s ambitions oil paintings are deserving of the highest award for illustration.

Kadir Nelson’s Mandela

Kadir Nelson achieves an outstanding level of realism in his paintings. The large portraits of the individuals within elevate the individuals to a place of deep reverence and an attention to a realistic image shows great skill. The dedication of time required of the medium indicates the importance of the subject, but the choice of point of view is equally important. The cover, in which Nelson Mandela is looking directly at the observer is a powerful example. The low angle of the men at council is another careful moment when point of view is used to elevate an informal moment to artistic beauty. The profile portrait of young Mandela and his mother is a beautiful, somber interaction. The composition in which the eyes are gazing at each other and and her remarkably realistic hands are cradling Nelson’s head is exquisitely tender. Kadir Nelson demonstrates a willingness to take on different angles for an effective emotional composition.

Much of Kadir Nelson’s skill in realistic painting lies in his ability to recreate the interplay of light with the real world. In other words, highlights on skin and in clothing are placed so carefully to mimic photographic effects, as if we are seeing the people with our own eyes. However, Nelson’s ability to use the opacity of oil painting is perhaps most powerful in the opening image (1-2). While some might see this only as a metaphor for a sunrise, it is also important to note that an image containing a lens flare is a modern type of composition. Since a lens flare is not something a human eye would naturally pause upon, the silhouette of Rohilhlahla backlit is a view that occurs only through photography or film; a moment captured when the light enters a lens a certain way. Not only does this give the painting a modern and active feel, but it is a subtle reminder that this biography is the vision of a man through one author/illustrator’s lens, bound by time and cultural perspective. This convention is a brave and powerful one to have used for a first image in this biography.

Kadir Nelson’s ambitious collection of more than a dozen portraits is admirable, but it is his careful use of the picture book format that makes this the premier work of the year. While each oil painting stands on its own as a work of art, it is clear that each of these was meant for the sequential, guttered form that is a picture book. The images are powerful while remaining age-appropriate in their depictions of violence and incarceration. No page is marred by a significant loss of material in the center gutter. Kadir Nelson should also be commended for his subtle use of symbolism in these impressive compositions. For instance, when Mandela is studying at a table (7-8), the area set off for text includes the lines of the window, a visual hint at the jail window that will be part of his incarceration. The gray bars appear again in the close-up of Mandela in jail (21-22) and off in the distance in the field work scene (23).

This book is a true gem in the picture book world, and it is a great tribute to an icon whom we are just beginning to grieve. The images will serve as a tool for children to learn about a world leader, not in the traditional sense of an information-laden biography, but from the perspective of a man’s mythical journey into the cave and back out again with his boon, his elixir of life to share with his community. Nelson Mandela’s life story is one of great hope in the face of many challenges, and that is the narrative shared by Kadir Nelson through this book. Only thirty years ago, this man was being unfairly jailed in a prison in South Africa; now he is being immortalized in oil paintings in this outstanding picture book. May Kadir Nelson be rewarded for so beautifully capturing Mandela’s life in a book that children of all ages will find inspiring.

Nelson, Kadir. Nelson Mandela. New York: Katherine Tegen, 2013. Print.

Brilliant! John Green Quote Chart

Wordless Wednesday: John Green Quote Chart.

via Wordless Wednesday: John Green Quote Chart.