The Places We'll Go, Part Three

I didn't expect to spend time this summer wedged in the back of a stuffy van with two strong-smelling pack goats nuzzling my head and leaving goat droppings uncomfortably close to my feet. But that's where I was two days ago.

After another session of teaching poetry at Jonathan Rand's Author Quest Camp for young writers, I spent several days with my good friends Shelley and Roderick at their farm in Wolverine, Michigan. Among other activities, they took me blackberry picking with their two pack goats Troubadour and Blue. The blackberry field was several miles away, and without a trailer, the only way to transport the goats was via the van.

I haven't spent a lot of time up close and personal with goats. In fact, I haven't spent a lot of time up close and personal with many farm animals. The most exotic creature I associated with growing up was my godparents' chihuahua, Kippy. But being around Shelley and Roderick always results in new experiences for me, such as climbing a steep winding staircase without handrails to reach the guestroom perched on top of their self-designed home. As I descended these stairs in the middle of the night to use the bathroom I realized how easy it would be to plummet to my death. One wrong step on a stray chicken or a feral cat and I'd be history. The familiarity of my own safe apartment seemed mighty appealing.

Truth be told, like the main character in the middle grade novel I'm writing, I'm often hesitant to try new things. Some might say I'm cautious. Others might say I'm a stick-in-the-mud. But also like the character I'm writing about, I find that these new experiences make my life infinitely more rich. They also make my writing more rich. Thankfully I have friends like Shelley and Roderick who get me out of my comfort zone and into the world of affectionate goats and succulent blackberries.

Skye

I had an amazing month in Scotland with two weeks on the isle of Skye. My father-in-law has lung cancer and wanted one last trip to see family members and his beloved landscape. Both were accomplished and Alastair celebrated his 80th birthday with his twin brother in Perth. Now he back at home in England and the lung cancer is progressing. We all feel fortunate to have had this time together.

Refreshed

After a long, hot summer, it was refreshing to attend the SCBWI conference in Los Angeles, where I met up with fellow potato Edie Hemingway. We listened to the author of Crank, a book that tells the heartbreaking story of the loss of the author's daughter to crystal meth. She gave an enlightening talk about what it takes to be successful - talent, perserverance, and luck, and gave hilarious examples of how much of each was involved in different authors rise to fame.

Usually I take copious notes, but this year I let myself sit back and take it all in. In looking through my folder, I see that I did write down three quotes. One was from Eve Bunting - "I always ask myself (about each story idea), is it worth saying?" The second was from Karen Cushman, author of The Midwife's Apprentice -"I wrote because I could not dance." And I don't remember who said this third quote, but it was borrowed from Toni Morrison -"The purpose of freedom is to free someone else."

It is good for the writer's soul to meet with other writers and share stories, heartbreaks, and inspirations. It puts fuel back in the tank for the long winding road that sits before us.

The Places We'll Go, Part Two

I've just returned from a personal writing retreat in Grand Marais, Minnesota, where I stayed at Lauren Stringer's quaint guest house, affectionately referred to as "The Boat." Without the distractions of the Internet or phone (or laundry and housework!) I was three times as productive with my writing as I would have been at home.

Grand Marais is beautiful small town located right along the shore of Lake Superior. My first day in town I gave a presentation on my YA novel ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY NOT at Drury Lane Books. I'm not sure I've ever been in a bookstore with a more scenic location; the window behind me looked right out onto the great sweetwater sea.


And although most of my days were spent writing, I also had time to enjoy some incredible hikes along the Superior Hiking Trail, which took me to the roaring Devil Track River as well as the breath-taking gorges and waterfalls of the Cascade River.

Experiences like this make me grateful that I have the job that I do, and the freedom to enjoy a week devoted solely to writing. I am also extremely grateful to have friends like fellow potato Lauren and her husband Matthew, who graciously open up their cottage to artists and writers seeking a quiet place to work far from the distractions of home.

Potato Skins

Time for me to develop a protective skin! The pub date for The East-West House: Noguchi's Childhood in Japan is fast approaching. My books are in the warehouse and out for reviews. Since this is my debut as an author, I'm more than a little bit nervous. Yesterday I received notice of my first review, on BookDragon, a blog for the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Museum. I can't complain about the review (which is mostly a summary of the story). It's the blog response that concerns me, because it challenges my facts. I have good sources for my information. Is it lame to write a response directing bloggers to my sources? Actually I tried, but for some reason my post didn't show up. Years ago I carefully researched and illustrated a book about Mohawk Sky Dancers and the building of the Empire State Building. There was a famous photographer, Lewis Wickes Hine, who documented the construction. I relied on his images when developing my compositions. Nonetheless, I was criticized in a review for being historically inaccurate. Readers of the review would not know that there were photos showing my illustrations to be correct. The words of the reviewer were already out there, and surely any self-respecting librarian wouldn't want to order a book they thought to be inaccurate. Arrgh! I'd love to hear how the rest of you seasoned authors deal with reviews.

Summers past

I'm not sure why, but summer seems to be the most nostalgic season. Perhaps because I wasn't in school, where the routine days just meld into one another and only bad memories tend to stick out. Summers for me meant haying season and a lot of work, but they also meant visiting cousins and of course, my birthday. As a child, aren't birthdays just the most important day? Well, that certianly changes as we age, but some things don't. I still love getting books for presents, although nowadays, more often as not, they come in the form of a giftcard so I can pick my own. ( Better yet, I say.) But I still own most of the books I got as a child. Here's a sampling, do you recognize any?

The Places We'll Go

One of the great things about doing school and library visits is that it takes me to places I have never been. Yesterday I was in the small town of Colfax, Wisconsin, exactly halfway between the North Pole and the equator.

The library was housed in this great old building, along with the police department and other city service departments.

There was not a lot of spare room inside the library, so my presentation to the summer reading program kids was outside at the tiny park alongside the building. Although I had to compete with the traffic noise on Main Street, it was a beautiful setting to tell stories and draw pictures. I also think it was the first time that I had someone show up to my library presentation on roller blades!

It was a unique and memorable experience for me. Thanks Jenny and Lisa for inviting me to your library!