Back to...

Kinda funny that this is back to school time, because I too have homework. Today in the mail I got the final pages for my new YA novel The Gardener. Final pages are typeset and look like the real thing. Now, my job is to go through and see how many goofs I can find. I just made it to page 100 and have found about nine. Most of them are little, like an extra word, or something that doesn't make sense. But I did find one goof that was totally due to me not being an Oregon resident at the time I wrote the book. Because, now that I am an Oregonian, this thing totally jumped out at me like "It's illegal to do that in Oregon!" I'm not giving it away, but I will certainly give a big kudo to anyone who can figure out this one thing you are allowed to do in almost every other state EXCEPT Oregon.

a penny for your thoughts

September 1
School before Labor Day should be outlawed. September, NOT August, is back to school time, yet here in California, my daughter is already in her second week of classes. Though part of me sadly relinquishes summer’s languor, another part is eager for the well-learned rhythm and rigor of autumn.

Today is the official release date of my book, The East-West House: Noguchi’s Childhood in Japan. The book has fared well by reviewers so far—a star from Kirkus! http://www.leeandlow.com/books/373/hc/the_east_west_house_noguchi_s_childhood_in_japan/ Alas, I have no contract copies yet, so my celebration is postponed. Instead of lingering over a bound book, I plan to move forward, buckle down in that back-to-school mode, finish finessing a manuscript, and pitch a new project today. At least I will try.

First, I want to note two of my favorite childhood rituals preparing for the new school year, and invite you readers to share some of yours.


NEW PENNY LOAFERS! Each year my parents packed my three brothers and me in the Studebaker and we drove from our home on the North Shore of Massachusetts to the outlet stores in New Hampshire to shop for school clothes. I always came home with a new sweater and plaid pleated skirt from Pendleton Woolen Mills, and new shoes from Johnny Appleseeds. I couldn’t wait to get home and place a shiny penny in each loafer.





A NEW LUNCH BOX! This was, of course, my defining accessory. I wish I kept a collection of these vintage metal boxes, The Lone Ranger for my older brother Dave and Barbie for me.


What does back to school mean for you?
A penny for your thoughts…

Close to home

I am feeling just a tad jealous of my fellow potatos' travels this summer. With the lovely economy, we stayed close to home...but, we were lucky enough to spend time with some interesting creatures that came to us.

First it was the kitten with pneumonia that stayed for a day, but was too sick to keep near our other cat. Thanks to his tenacious purring, he was taken in by a foster mom and nursed back to health via antibiotics, nebulizers, and humidifiers (it took a whole month). I am so grateful to his foster mom for taking a chance on him. He is now a constant friend as I type, sleeping on my feet at this moment, and purring like a tiger when awake. (His name is Topher, by the way.)

Our second visitor was a rather large king snake, (I hope that's what it was!), that slithered around our back patio for an entire afternoon. I took pictures from inside the house and enjoyed his antics from afar. His tongue was constantly sipping at the air as he climbed our fence, lifted his body up to one of our chairs, and finally disappeared into the foliage. I have to say that we slept with all our windows and doors closed that night, and we still scan the patio for our friend before stepping outside. It was truly a magical experience, but one that I'd like not to repeat.

Now that summer's over, it's pretty quiet around here, but Topher and I are always on the lookout for a chance visitor.

From Chicago to Puerto Rico--From Puerto Rico to Whidbey Island

This has been a busy but interesting summer for me.

In May, when the rumors had just started about Judge Sotomayor's nomination to the Supreme Court, famous author Eric Kimmel told me to write a book about her. I dismissed the idea, until the nomination came a reality. My editor agreed and I began my research. Justice Sonia Sotomayor's story deserves a book--many books. But her mother's story also deserves to be in print. A Puerto Rican whose mother died when she was five and whose father abandoned his five children, Celina Sotomayor served in World War II, completed high school, became a widow, graduated as registered nurse, and raised two successful children. I can see why Justice Sotomayor is so proud of her mother.

In June, I went to the American Library Association Conference in Chicago with a first draft of the Justice's biography. Her hearings had not started yet, but deep inside my heart I knew she would be confirmed. At the ALA conference my editor and I edited the first draft. We also saw art that we loved. Thomas Gonzalez, illustrator of 13 Cows for America, is illustrating my book.

It was a good conference. I saw many friends and the Poetry Blast was a blast! Don't miss it next year.

So I was in Chicago. The distance between Chicago and Puerto Rico is shorter than from Oregon. I have contacted Sonia Sotomayor's brother, Dr. Juan Luis Sotomayor. But by the time I did, the White House had asked the family not to grant any more interviews. But the White House didn't say not to smell the smells and taste the food that Sonia enjoyed in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico. That I did on my days in Puerto Rico when there were no Senate hearings. In Mayaguez, I met Sonia Sotomayor's cousin, Tito Baez. What a nice man! Not only did he answered most of my questions, but he treated me to delicious quesitos. I'm sure Sonia likes them with cafe puya, no sugar no milk. But maybe just the latter because the Justice has diabetes.

I return to Oregon to take out the summer clothes in my suitcases and fill them with layers and layers of warmer clothes. It was in the high 90s in Puerto Rico; it was in the low 60s at Whidbey Island, WA. I teach at Northwest Institute of Literary Arts at Whidbey. Its MFA is a low-residency program, meaning that in August and January we meet at Whidbey for ten days each time and the rest of the semesters we work online. What I like about this program is that the students have to take courses in other genres. For Children/Young Adult this works well because learning to write poetry is helpful to write for C/YA and so is short fiction and non-fiction. The residencies have fantastic authors, agents, and editors. (You can sign for residency only) This time we had Simon and Schuster editor Allyn Johnston and poet Marvin Bell among others. This semester I am teaching Workshop, and I am sitting in a poetry class taught by Carolyne Wright. It's fabulous!

I am finally in Oregon...with less deer than at Whidbey but three that visit my yard daily. It's blue and sunny and pretty. I am happy to be home!

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.