Ban this!

Tip of the pen to Bookshelves of Doom for bringing this to light.

Seems that the Wilsona, Ca., School District is banning 23 books and bringing up rules that the library collection must abide by.

Books now cannot depict drinking alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex, including "negative sexuality," implied or explicit nudity, cursing, violent crime or weapons, gambling, foul humor and "dark content."

Well, that pretty much wiped out the collection. What's negative sexuality, anyway? Is that a grumpy prostitute? Do they write picture books about grumpy prostitutes now? I seem to be missing out on all the fun trends.

"We realize there might be a story about police, but that's not violent crime, that's police doing good," Superintendent Ned McNabb said. "There's no way you can take the judgment out of it. You frame it better so it's easier to know what the guidelines are."

Whew! So Officer Buckle and Gloria are safe ... but wait! Isn't that Gloria on the endpapers, smoking a cigarette? And there she is, playing in the microwave oven! And setting her tail on fire! And rolling the police car down the hill! This book has got to go.

Trustees said one rejected book contained an unsavory hero who was a bad role model for children; another was about a warlock, which they said was inappropriate; and others were books with which they were unfamiliar and didn't know whether they promoted good character or conflicted with textbooks.

Ban first, read later, maybe. That's the way to do it.

In their haste to get books off the shelves, some Clifford and Disney books got swept into the stack. But they'll put those back later, school officials said. However, Clifford, being a naked dog, will have shorts drawn onto his lower body. And Donald Duck ... what's with him, wearing a shirt but no pants??

The new policy states that library materials must be age-appropriate, taking into consideration the different maturity levels of district students who range in age from 5 to 14.

"For example, most of our elementary students are not dealing with issues of puberty and we do not want to encourage them to try to identify with characters that are," the policy states.

I love how they're trying to protect them from puberty. Makes it all better when the early developers suddenly get hit with it and don't know what the hell to do. (And some kids will start experiencing it in fifth or sixth grade, if I remember correctly.)

"Middle school materials may have a somewhat broader range of information. However, even at the middle school level, there can be a wide range of maturity. Materials for the middle school level should therefore be selected with appropriate limits in mind. An example: romance stories are out - puppy love is okay."

Yep! Puppy love sounds just right for the middle school student with a wide range of maturity!

*scratches head* But don't these school board members have any idea what these middle-school kids are watching on TV at home? And that you can get better, more truthful information about the world from a book? No, wait, books are out to exploit readers, make sex glamorous, make drugs and smoking glamorous. It's like those books with Sarah Jessica Parker and all her friends talking about sex. And there are all these giant explosions and long car chases everywhere in books. You read a book and it makes you get all hopped up and want to go out and wreck stuff.

And that's what happened to me. I read books all the time, and I always got in trouble. From Mom. Because I ... um. Because I spent so much time reading subversive books that I didn't do my chores.

*dead silence*

Um, yeah. I was a bad, bad girl.

On the CD player -- "Ballad of Waterhole #3 (Code of the West)" -- Roger Miller

Symphonians songlist!

Many have asked me about the songs that keep popping up through my Symphonians novel.

Actually, nobody has asked me a damn thing, but that's not going to stop me from making a fool playlist of a lot of the songs that have shown up through the novel. And it's odd that a novel with Symphonians in it has so many blues/rock songs in it. But that's the way it's turned out.

Load this up on your i-Pods, people!

"Brick by Brick" -- Kelley Hunt
"Hurt" -- Johnny Cash
"Take Me For a Little While" -- Coverdale/Page
"Ordinary People -- John Legend
"Musetta's Waltz" -- Puccini
The final so-called aria from Wozzeck -- Berg
"Confessing the Blues" -- Jay McShann
"Roll 'Em, Pete" -- Count Basie
Holst's First and Second Suites (especially the Dargason Fantasy, which gets explicated)
"Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini" -- Rachmaninoff (the supernatural pianist is Ashkenazy)
Bach's Goldberg Variations (I like to use Bach to represent order, clockwork, etc.)
"Walking the Dog" -- Gershwin
"Nessun Dorma" -- Puccini -- performed by Aretha Franklin, of course!
(Puccini seems to pop up when there's a passion in the air.)
Verdi's Requiem -- the "devil chasing you to hell" part, the Dies irae.
"I Don't Care Anymore" -- Phil Collins
"Hand on Heart" -- Queensryche
Der Winterreise -- Schubert
"I Don't Know How to Love Him" -- Helen Reddy
"On My Own" -- Les Miserables
"We Tell Ourselves" -- Clint Black
"Rivera Paradise" -- Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble
"In the End" --Linkin Park
"Love Bites" -- Def Leppard
"Right Now" -- Van Halen
"Sleepers Wake" -- Bach
"Love Never Dies" -- Kelley Hunt

Songlists are fun.

Mr. Rogers to the rescue!

Actually, that's Carl Rogers, the humanist psychologist who wants people to keep it real. I had his book On Becoming a Person for ages, and only this weekend did I pick it up and start reading. What I found was immensely helpful. New ways to look at motives, ideas on undertaking the quest for self-knowledge, and ideas on how people work and hide things from themselves. (And that hiding thing keeps popping up in the Symphonians, too.)

I've been typing quotes from the book to give myself some ideas. And now I'm wanting to read more books by more psychologists. I have a lot of Jung, though he's kind of obtuse and flighty. But I do have a book of Maslov's, so I'll tackle that next. I have read parts of Maslov's book ages ago, and I remember that his writing is pretty straightforward. Rogers tries to be straightforward but I still find myself reading parts of it over and over. However, I keep getting interrupted every whipstitch, so it's hard to keep the myriad parts in my head as I go.

I loved psychology in high school and college, so I'm really digging this text. Not to mention that, as a writer, I've got to understand how humans work, especially as they're so cussedly contrary about every damn thing, and nobody wants to easily understood, though they say they do. How can others understand them when they can't understand themselves? All the defenses we put up against ourselves. No wonder we can't connect with others; we can't even connect with our own true selves. Who is that in there? How do I find you? How do I find me?

As an added bonus, I get to question my own behavior, and try to figure out what her deal is. She wants so badly to be a writer, yet there are times, like recently, that she fritters away so much time, then complains about how she never has time to write. Tsk!

Quick update.

Haven't heard anything back from the agent on the Rose Saga proposal. Maybe she has experienced a dental emergency. Just my luck.

Got all snarled up in Symphonians. In trying to write new scenes, I've started writing repetitious scenes. I'm trying to plot the course of this relationship but it seems to me to be the same things over and over: attraction/repulsion, I love you/run away, alas if only Noel could, etc.

I have to wonder: Am I following too closely the original relationship? I am using it as a framework, but on the other hand I do have to make up a lot of stuff since I don't have a lot of documentation for the first part of the relationship. I wrote up several month's worth of calendars to show what happened on what day, to try to see how the original relationship went, and I have these huge gaps everywhere. I even traveled to the guy's hometown but never mentioned it in my journal. Probably because I mentioned it in the other journal, the one he has and I don't. Oh, egad!

Basically I'm trying to get this new narrative to cover the months of September, October, and November, at which point I can hook up with the old narrative pretty well.

Also I'm trying to figure out what to say about life, love, relationships, and the world over those three months, and what scenes would best do the job. But then I get these repetitious scenes, as I have mentioned before.

Cripes, why can't I just get a cushy job as a soil scientist instead?

(Because you got a D in Dr. Gille's Soils class, that's why.)

I need to get to work and try to sort this madness out before my little family comes home. Wish me luck, y'all.

Here's a quarter, call someone who cares.

The Who (singing): I'm free!
BRC: He's free, but I cost a nickel.

River rat.

River in the rain
Sometimes at night you look like a long white train
Winding your way away somewhere
River, I love you, don't you care?

If you're on the run, winding someplace
Just trying to find the sun
Whether the sunshine, whether the rain,
River, I love you just the same.

But sometimes, in a time of trouble
When you're out of hand
And your muddy bubbles roll across my floor
Carrying away the things I treasure
Hell, there ain't no way to measure
Why I love you more than I did the day before ...

River in the rain
Sometimes at night you look like a long white train
Winding your way away from me
River, I've never seen the sea.

-- Roger Miller, "River in the Rain," from the musical Big River

Love that song. Been playing it a lot lately -- because this is flood season? Or because I'm such a river rat?

The river appears in every novel I write. I can't resist. It's come to symbolize the boundary of heaven, because all my life I've stood on the hills that surround my little town and look out across the floodplain to the hills of Kansas, blue with distance. I have never traveled to the Kansas hills to stand and look back at my home. It's a view I've never seen.

All through my childhood, the river's paid us visits. 1979, the year the ice floes backed up behind the railroad bridge, my first flood. We had just gone to Savannah to Grandma Ann's when the water came into Nodaway, so we ended up camping out there. Then I believe there was one in '81, and maybe a short one in'85. The river made it to the edge of the yard in '79, but no closer.

Then there were the floods of legend.

The great flood I always heard about was 1951. The river was five miles across. Dad, who was about five or six, made a raft and invited Uncle Harold, who was blind, to take a ride. Uncle Harold knew better. Great-grandpa Ben, who worked for the Corps of Engineers, drove a big boat right up the main street and hitched it to the front of the store, which was built about five feet off the ground.

1993 was my flood.

I was going to college and living in the house where I'd lived when a kid. Every few days, as the waters rose, the route out of town changed as yet another road went under. Every day I could smell the stagnant, brown water. I finally had to evacuate when the water, which had stayed at the edge of the yard before, now crept up to the front door, to the windows. My coneflowers and delphiums floated in the murk. I had to get my stuff and leave. I did it, though I hated to.

The waters never came into my house, which was fortunate. The main street, however, was devastated. Grandpa Vance floated by Uncle Harold's house in the canoe and cleaned the leaves out of the gutters. Aunt Olga's house had to be torn down. Nodaway's population dropped from 50 to about 36.

There's this point of pride a river rat has, this relationship with the river that fills their home with mud and silt and mildew. "Can't chase us out," they say affectionately, looking out at the water. "The river's our home. We ain't leaving."

But I left. Live in a nice town. I can walk to the library; doesn't that count for something?

But I still want to go back and live in Nodaway. Live within sight of that river, live at the edge of heaven.

I love small-market radio.

See, in KC, just about all the radio stations are owned by corporations. It's either Entercom, Susquehanna, or Cumulous, all up and down the radio dial. We have three light-rock stations (two in KC, one in Topeka) that I've stopped listening to, because they all play the same stuff. Five songs by Rod Stewart, six by Billy Joel, ten by Elton John. I'm going, guys, these musicians have had a long and varied history in which they've created tons of good songs. It's not like you have to play "Captain Jack" by Billy Joel, but can you mix it up a little?

Though KYYS, which is owned by Entercom, will have shuffle weekends where they play all kinds of crazy stuff, and I do like that. However, I'm pissed off at Entercom because four years ago they mismanaged the classical station into the ground (fired the staff that I'd been listening to for years and got DJ's that didn't know how to pronounce Ralph Vaughn Williams, for example) and then banished it to the AM dial and replaced it with "The Buzz." I'll give them a buzz. Here are your Arbitron ratings right here, Jerky Breath!

But I digress.

Small-market stations -- radio stations that serve a small area -- are my solace. There was a great one out of Clinton, Mo., that I could sometimes pull in. One night they played "Madman on the Water" by Elton John, "Angry Young Man" by Billy Joel, and "Synchonicity II" by The Police. Damn, what a lineup! I heard they'd also mix up Beach Boy tunes with Motley Crue, which sounded fun. Alas they got bought out by a Christian satellite service, which pretty much put an end to Motley Crue.

My favorite is KNIM out of Maryville. They pretty much play whatever the hell they want. They'll play stuff from the Coverdale/Page album, "Driving the Last Spike" by Genesis, which is like this 9-minute song about a man who works to build a railroad. Once they played "In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida" by Iron Butterfly, all 20 minutes of it. It started when I got into my truck after work and it brought me into the driveway. Of course they'll play the latest from Three Doors Down and Billy Idol and the Cars. Love 'em.

I'll listen to KKFI from KC when it comes in, too. They're totally independant, I think 83% of their revenue comes from their fund drives, and the rest from grants. They'll hobble along with bad soundboards or malfunctioning CD changers, but they hit you with all kinds of great stuff. Blues, jazz, speed metal, news, and lots of stuff from local musicians. They introduced me to Kelley Hunt, Anthony Gomes, Kurt Elling, and all kinds of neat and fun stuff.

Oh, I keep forgetting -- this station now has streaming audio, so you can see what I'm raving about.

I'm just a radiohead, guys.

On the computer: Retro Red-Eye Express from KKFI (streaming audio)

And while we're on the subject ...

Check out Don Tate's comments on the scarcity of black males in children's books. I've also noticed that guy MC's are totally underrepresented (in the short story collection I've been writing, I've added a couple of guy stories, including one with a black MC. Hope I do it justice).

Thanks, Don, for the backup!

On being black in fiction.

Recently read some interesting articles from Ursula K. LeGuin's site, as well as a super reply by Pam Noles.

Ursula K. Le Guin said this:
"I have received letters that broke my heart, from adolescents of color in this country and in England, telling me that when they realized that Ged and the other Archipelagans in the Earthsea books are not white people, they felt included in the world of literary and movie fantasy for the first time."
— Speech to the Book Expo America children's literature breakfast, June, 4, 2004.

And Pam Noles wrote about this in her essay called "Shame." This sprung up after the Sci/Fi network did a movie based on Earthsea -- totally trashed it -- and they made Ged and all his buds white as the pure-driven snow. Cause I guess wizards of colors aren't good for ratings?

And Pam wrote about reaching that point in Earthsea when LeGuin mentions that while Ged and Jasper were red-brown, Vetch was black-brown.

And because Le Guin snuck up on it, let us thrill with Sparrowhawk as he made his way, the Revelation came as a shock. I do remember bursting out into tears on the living room couch when I understood what was going on. And the tears flowed again when Mom came home from work and I showed her the book while trying to explain. Sparrowhawk is brown. I think he's like an Indian from India. And Vetch is black like from Africa. There's a bunch more and they have real power. Not the girls, though. But still they are also the good guys. It's the white people who are evil. And Sparrowhawk is also Ged, and he's going to be the most powerful one of them all, ever.

And I look at all my lily-white characters in Symphonians. And cringe.

I mean, I look at the diversity of kids in elementary schools these days. Even my nephew and niece, who are part Portuguese, have cinnamon skin and that black hair and brown eyes I love so much. Why can't my characters reflect this reality?

I've been wanting for ages to write a fantasy novel with all-black characters. I mean the dark-black ones -- what did Toni Morrison call them? Coal-rock? (I can't remember and I can't find my copy of Paradise on my bookshelves.) I'd have all the dark colors, maybe have a token white, just to turn the whole race thing on its head. I really think we shouldn't assume that all our MC's are white just because we see a lot of whites. That's because whites seem to have a way of making other colors feel uncomfortable. And I've done my share of dumb things in the past, though I don't do them again, Lord willing.

But the thing that really got me was that one of the characters I've known longest -- Roderick, one of my wonderful Symphonians, and one of my favorites -- has always been part Spanish. His mom was Spanish. The man has black hair and brown eyes, and I've had an idea that he's dark-skinned, but it never showed up on the page. Many times I've thought, "Well, heavens, he's got to at least look like he has a tan," but it never shows on the page.

And Yvonne could easily be Asian; I can see her looking like some wild anime angel to try and freak out her parents. Not to mention the butterfly tattoo and the crazy earrings.

I'd like to bring myself next to have my main character be of a different color, race, or heritage. But I'm shy of this ... what if I offend somebody is the usual excuse. "You can't learn all about being black just by listening to the Tom Joyner Show on the radio," I tell myself. I need to do more research. I feel it's important for all to be included in my stories. I know, I know, I'm writing about the human condition, blah blah blah. But I think it's important that we acknowledge the human condition isn't only about being white.

The view from inside a literary magazine.

I worked at the Laurel Review/Greentower Press, which is a literary magazine and a small press at NWMSU, ages ago, for a summer semester. I guess I was an editorial assistant, because I read slush and helped them get stuff mailed out, but mostly I was helping them adjust after their move to a different building (Colden Hall was being remodeled). So I was doing a lot of book-stacking and room organizing, too. But as a wide-eyed young writer I was fascinated.

This is how things worked at a literary magazine. The editors and the readers would read the MSS and, if a MS struck them as possibly being worthy, they'd scribble a comment on the envelopes the MS came in. "Take a look at this," or, "Not sure but maybe take a look," or, "What's with the screaming guy?"

The noteworthy submissions were set aside and given a second look. If the material was good but didn't fit in with the magazine's style, or if the ending didn't work, but they still liked the writing, they'd give it a "kiss," aka a form letter that said "try us again." All the rest of the MSS got form rejections.

Manuscripts that were accepted became proofs. On the original MSS, in red ink, one of the editors would specify margin width, page setup, font style and font size. Of course the MSS were proofread and made to conform to house style. Then a big sheaf of MSS would zip off to the printers.

After the magazine had been published these marked-up proofs would end up in the recycle bins. After asking Dr. Slater, I pounced on them and took 'em home. Among them was a couple of poems by Galway Kinsey, I believe. I kept those!

The last time I stopped by the LR offices, there were two recycle bins overflowing with rejected submissions, and a big pile of new submissions that needed to be read. Just so you know.

Most literary magazines have professors as their editors, and if they're good professors (and the guys I worked with were quite good), they're running all over the place taking care of their students, and in their spare time they run the magazine. This is why it takes a while for them to get back with you. Finals week is really bad. And don't send stuff in summer because often there's only a wide-eyed young writer running things.

Small literary magazines often send out requests for subscriptions with their rejection letters because they really could use the subscriptions! A lot of magazines survive on grants and magazine sales, not on advertising. Advertising is traded between magazines -- "I'll show an ad for your magazine if you show an ad for mine." Kind of interesting.

I think nearly all of the LR editors have retired -- I know Trowbridge and Slater have, though I'm not sure about Dr. Richards -- and there's a new generation in place. But I'm pretty sure things are still run the same way. And as far as I can tell, the new editors are pretty sharp, too, though I don't see them as much as the old-school guys.

If you live near a university, you might volunteer at a local lit magazine. It is a real eye-opener (and also you get to read real slush!). And any time an author can spend behind an editor's desk is time that pays back in understanding and patience, as well as a better sense of what a writer can get away with ... or can't.

I love alfalfa.

Got the PDF file from Therese today that shows what my alfalfa article looks like for Organic Gardening. We're going to press! I still have to get a tiny bit of information on whether one of my sources has a Ph.D or not, but other than that it's done.

Now I gotta get some OG's from the library, look them over, and write them a query about micorrhyza and what conditions are necessary to make them work with your garden plants. Not that I'm a mycologist (one who studies fungi), but mycology is an interesting field, and it's all about plant symbiology, baby.

And that would tie in nicely with the soilbuilding book proposal.

Or an article about earthworms would also be nice.

Let's get on the stick, it's 9:30 already.

BTW, we went to the Royals game last night and they actually WON. Berroa stole two bases (BRC corrected me: he stole one base and the pitcher got an error ... whatever!) and DeJesus broke his bat in half for a double, I think. And we talked a little about the Bo Jackson days, when he was playing with the Royals in Seattle and he threw a ball clear from the wall at the back of the field to Bob Boone at home plate and it NEVER BOUNCED, to get an out on Harold Reynolds! It was great to have watched him in the good ol' days.

*scribbles in dust* Wash me!!

Sophie to Grandma (hand on car): Just look for our white car.

(The car's actually silver.)

Grandma: *What* color is it?

(Sophie looks at the bug mess all over the front of the car.)

Sophie: I don't know. Maybe we should wash it.

Update.

I'm up to 16 pages of character sketches and have written about three or four new pages of Symphonians scene, and moved around bits of Chapter 17 to make the chapter chronological. Now I need to figure what the impetus behind Ch. 17 is. Right now it feels like it's going all over the map -- no cohesion. But writing time is over, and now I gotta go get the kid. I feel good, though -- nice writing day, though part of it I was falling asleep at the desk and I had to sit outside and write longhand under the silver maple so I could stay awake. And then chai tea, which is also very good. I just wish I could work longer, now that I've found the groove, but, as they say on earth, C'est la vie!

On the i-Pod -- It *was* the Hollies with "The Air That I Breathe" (one of my songs) but BRC switched it "It's Only Love" by Byron Adams and Tina Turner (one of his songs). Oh well. Though Tina kicks ass.

At the library.

We have this weird computer set-up at home where my laptop doesn't have internet and the computer that does have internet won't accept a memory stick, or flash drive, whatever that thingy is. So I have to walk out to the library to send my gardening column to Jess, since the computers here are like, you know, modern.

I got through interlibrary loan three big quartos -- two on roses and one on Empress Josephine. I will carry these home (about seven blocks) and take a look at them later.

I have 14 pages of character studies finished right now. However, each character averages about two pages, so we still have work to do. I'm doing them on the computer which actually does seem a little easier than doing them on paper. I've gotten pretty good about composing both on paper and on the keyboard -- gotten used to that.

Anne says she should get back with me sometime this week on the rose query. Fingers crossed, and let's hope she doesn't suddenly experience a dental emergency or some damn thing.

Okay! Let's get back home and get some work done! There are only so many hours the kid's gone for summer kindergarten, and every minute seems precious because I have only two glorious weeks left!

Some progress!

I've written three pages on character sketches so far. Only 247 pages to go to make my half-ream. Ha ha! Oh I am such an idiot.

I was thinking about typing my character sketches into the computer so I could 1) read what I wrote and 2) move things around into different sections. Sounds good in theory. But will it work in practice?

Maybe I should get off the computer and do some actual work.

Remember, I did tell Janine at FSG that it might be a year before she sees the novel again. And I want to have amazing characters like Anne Tyler does. If I want the magic, I gotta do the work. Also, this will bring the characters closer to what the book wants of them. And I'll avoid libel suits!

(I keep thinking of all the other novels I need to work on ... I wonder if I'll ever get to them, especially after I go back to working full-time. This bothers me.)

Kicked it out the door!

For now. The Rose Saga proposal, that is. I went ahead and sent it to Anne today, stating that I wasn't sure if I should write this for an adult audience or a MG/YA audience. I'm leaning toward the younger audience because that market has no rose history book while the adults have plenty of 'em, there's almost always a short rose history chapter in most rose books I've seen, even if the book's about planting or cultivation. But I'll see what the bosses think first.

So now I am getting back to Symphonians again. Alas I discovered I must do more work. Here, look at this Anne Tyler interview.

(And it's rare for her to give interviews, so read closely.)

But what I love about Anne's stories are her characters. "Grownups" is my favorite book of hers, mainly because the characters are so amazing. The first chapter is hard to get through because you're meeting them all at once, but after that it's much easier.

Look at what she says about the way she writes:

I spend about a year between novels. My decision to start a new one is just that, a decision, since I never get inspirations. I'll say, "It's time I stopped lolling about. I'd better think something up." Then for a month or so I'll jot down desperate possibilities. "Maybe I could write about a man who does such-and-such. Or wait: I think I already did that. Well, then maybe about that woman I saw in the grocery the other day. What was she up to, exactly? What might her story have been?"

Eventually, one of these possibilities will start flowering in my mind, and I'll manufacture what's initially a very trumped-up, artificial plot. I'll write maybe one long paragraph describing the events, then a page or two breaking the events into chapters, and then reams of pages delving into my characters. After that, I'm ready to begin.

And she also says this:

I do write long, long character notes—family background, history, details of appearance—much more than will ever appear in the novel. I think this is what lifts a book from that early calculated, artificial stage. One day, around chapter 2 or 3, I'll be slogging through some dialogue and all of a sudden a character says something that makes me laugh. Where did that come from? I'm not funny! Then another will flatly refuse the plot contrivance I've designed for him. I'll write a scene this way, write a scene that way; it slows to a crawl and stops. Finally, I say, "Oh, all right," and I drop the contrivance and the scene falls into place and I see a motive I'd never guessed and I understand where we're going. It's as if someone else is telling me the story. I don't want to say I hear voices; well, actually I do hear voices, but I don't think it's supernatural. I think it's just that when characters are given enough texture and backbone, then lo and behold, they stand on their own.

Reams of paper on her characters creates characters that live on the page, characters that drive the plot.

I have about six characters in Symphonians that I need to write character sketches about. So, my assignment is ... gulp ...

WRITE A FULL REAM ABOUT THE CHARACTERS IN SYMPHONIANS.

What! That's only 500 pages!

*faints*

*comes to*

...okay, maybe I could like write on one side of the page and do 250 pages.

*faints*

Oh, stop being such a wuss. You just want to write 10 pages on all the major characters and get out of the assignment. You want to write a kick-ass novel or not? You want to be like Anne Tyler? Then do the work. Over and out!

Roger that.

On the mental i-Pod: "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC

Back to the Rose Saga.

Because the books that might possibly be competing with my book have mostly all arrived from Amazon.

One was too short and had the same historical info I've seen in many other rose books; one had a big slant toward interior decoration; one was too old but still a good source; and one ...

... well, one was published in March 2006 and does many of the same things I had planned to do. And he got his MS checked over by Graham Thomas, the rosarian god, before he (Thomas, not the author) died. And he got David Austin, rose hybridizer god, to write the foreword.

*throws self in river*

But on the bright side, this guy is dry as heck and he does cover a lot of stuff I'm not as interested in. And I cover some things he doesn't, including the search for a blue rose.

But I was really dissatisfied with this book, and wondered why. Then I got out Robert Reddell's Rose Bible, which I love love love, and I set these two books down side-by-side, and started thinking about why one book works and one doesn't (for me, that is).

Reddell's writing is lively. The text is broken up on the page with subheads. White space is used to good effect in this book. The pages are large and generous, while the others' pages seem small (and also illustrations had no margins whatsoever, making the other book feel chintzy -- not the author's fault, but just poor design). Also, Reddell's book has these huge, luscious pictures of roses in full bloom, and I keep finding myself wanting to kiss the page. I really love the pics. The pics make me want these roses bad (though I still don't want them bad enough to actually create a rose garden in my yard -- still jaded -- but this resistance to gardening has been fading lately).

So: what if I lean more toward Reddell's model? Let's get pics. And let's get lively text. I was thinking about including many sidebars in my book. Why not small articles? Talk to a rose breeder (I'd like to talk to Carruth about that!) about what rose breeding *really* entails, and tie it to the explosion of rose breeding in France after Josephine got things rolling. Talk to a plant archeologist, or whatever you call them, about roses in ancient cultures. Let's not just pull facts from a book, but let's talk to people, make the information come alive.

But I have my work cut out for me. I'm going to have to restructure my chapter setups. But the sample chapter about the search for the blue rose is something this guy didn't even touch, so that's good.

I'd like to get the danged thing out this week. I can't keep them waiting on me much longer.

On the i-Pod -- "Sentimental Lady" by Bob Welch
Then "Lebanese Blonde" by Thievery Corporation (thanks, Tracy)

Winner of the "Hell of a Segue" award for today.

On the i-Pod:

"Long Cold Winter" -- Cinderella
Followed up by "Do-Wacka-Do" by Roger Miller.

They're threatening me already.

From the school:

*********

Your student's meal account balance is: -$.10

Any money paid will be added to the account. Any negative balance over $10.00 will be served a peanut butter sandwich.

*********

Please! No! Anything but the peanut butter sandwich!

More ramblings on Carter, because we know you need to hear all about it.

Sorry! I don't have the baby pics yet! But I will soon!

(I'm sure that everyone who visits this blog is going, "The heck with all that novel crap, we want to see the little baby!" Well, I don't blame you.)

Anyway, more novel crap.

Kind of funny, because it's going to be all about Carter's character today. I took the bits where Carter appeared in chapter 16 and copied them into a separate document, trying to see what I've written about him so far. The guy is still a cardboard cutout, which of course bugs me. I'm like, "Hurry up! Come to life already!"

Got frustrated, so I started working on the chronology of the events of the chapter, which is cloudy and uncertain. And in doing that I ended up hauling out the ...

(ringing, metallic voice): LETTERS! OF! THE! EX!!

(puts sfx away)

So I jotted down some dates, trying to put together a chronology to use as a framework in the novel. Then I started to read the letters the ex wrote. I'm trying to read them with an open mind, trying to get into the guy's thoughts and imagine, okay, what's he thinking here, why'd he say that. Though I kept breaking out of that thoughtful frame of mind with such comments as, "Yeah, right!" or, "When monkeys fly out of my butt!" And then I'd tell the peanut gallery to hush up, and I'd try to get back into the guy's mindset.

But I'm getting better. A few times I've said, "Okay, I can see why he'd say that," which helps. And I've told him, "Man, you should have chosen one course of action and stuck to it." The guy's really conflicted. He did hear me when I said our relationship was over, and he understood the words I said. But the old body said, "I want that woman" and so he kept following me around which totally screwed him up. And he did throw me a birthday party, and that was really nice.

But the guy could be really exasperating, too. In one letter he complained that when I spent time with a group of my friends, I paid more attention to them than I did to him. Reading that today kind of floored me. Okay, I guess he does have some key issues to deal with after all! But now that I think about it, it really didn't occur to me before that there might be other stuff going on in his psyche that would also contribute to his behavior toward me/Kay. That might be worth speculating upon.

If I can get a character that will live on the page, that will be most of the battle right there. One that's interesting, one that the reader empathises with, and one that has his share of surprises ....

Yo, unconscious mind, give it to me!

P.S. But hurry up because I've been working on Chapter 16 for the past three weeks and yet I see no end to it.

Announcement!

If that wasn't enough, I got a new niece at about 11 p.m. last night. Maya Furtado. Mike says it looked like she was 6 pounds 7 ounces (he got only a glimpse of the weight in all the excitment). I'll update this later with pics.

Time now to wake the kid for summer kindergarten. More later.

Holy calzone.

I had to hold off on posting this until I got my Symphonians post out of the way.

Actual e-mail:

******

Hi Melinda,

We received your proposal for the soil building book today, but I was wondering if you have a proposal available for The Saga of the Rose. That's the title we're most interested in. If you have a proposal for that book, please email it to me right away, and please copy Regina on it (something@somebody.com).

Thanks so much, and if you have any questions, you can call me after Tuesday at (random numbers here).

All Best,

Anne Wells
Assistant Agent

*******

BRC: You say, Naah, not really, I'd rather do the soil book.

*******

I better get off my ass, seeing as there is no actual proposal for the rose saga book, only a couple of articles. Aw, damn, just when I was getting some momentum going on Symphonians. But, as they say on earth, c'est la vie. So am I going to sit here and whine, or am I going to start working until my eyes fall out??

That's more like it. Ship the kid to work tomorrow with the husband, he won't mind. Just to get him back for the above comment!

On the i-Pod: "When It's Love" -- Van Halen.

Oh, I *know* when it's love.

Though a more appropriate song would be "Back in the Saddle" by Kelley Hunt.

Here's a two-ton heavy thing.

So I'm creeping through chapter 16 of the Symphonians novel, which is the first chapter of part 2. So obviously I haven't gotten very far very fast. But! I am getting somewhere, emotionally.

I've been once again going over the background between Kay and Carter, which is based on a relationship between me and this other guy a long time ago. (It ended ... poorly.) My sour view of this relationship is part of the reason my novel bounced back to me; it doesn't fit in with Kay's generous, friends-above-all worldview I'd so carefully built up in the first half. Mainly because Miss Hindsight-Is-20/20 is going, "The man is evil! EEEEEEvilllll!"

Basing a book on a previous relationship that ended ... badly ... is tricky. Of course, everything about the man must be changed to avoid libel suits. (Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird recommends giving the male character a tiny penis so he will never come forward.) But what really trips you up is the Voice of Experience crying "EEEEEEvillll!" This, obviously, doesn't do a lot for character development, or plot development, and then your MC becomes unsympathetic because she hates the guy's guts, whereas it's actually the author busting through the page, declaiming, "Oh how I hate this guy's guts!"

If the character was actually a decent guy, you're not going to want to look at that. If he and the MC had good times, and they went smoochy smoocy and it was nice, there ain't no way you're going to want to take a look at that. Because the man was EEEEEEVillllll and that's all there is to it.

Grandpa Simpson: It's evil! EEEEEEEvil!
Bart: Grandpa, you always say that.
Grandpa Simpson (sadly): I just want attention.

So last week, when I started digging through the old journal and letters, I started wishing I had a journal that I'd given to the man. Instead of writing in my regular journal, I wrote in a special journal and I gave it to him.

I GAVE MY PRECIOUS WORDS AWAY! AND NOW I WANT THEM BACK!!!

But too bad so sad, like I'm going to waltz into this guy's life and say, "Hi, I'm the evil one who broke your heart, now give me that journal I gave you about 16 years ago."

Even though I want to.

But that would be dumb.

Funny, "I Wish It Would Rain Down" by Phil Collins came on. That was on the radio toward the end of our relationship, spring of '90, and I felt sorry that I'd been trying to leave him, so obviously I didn't hate him all the time as my story insists, and obviously I felt a lot of kindness toward him because he was a friend and he did help me, at least there at the beginning. So I need to focus on these things more. Those kinds of feelings and attitudes are closer to the feelings and attitudes of Kay in the book's first half, so I really need to stay true to them.

But damn, that journal would have helped a lot with that. Since the journal I kept doesn't have a whole lot in it until it starts all going to hell.

Still, there is hope. This afternoon I was reviewing a memory of a day, early in the relationship, when we were having fun together, and I actually remembered what it felt like when I was happy with him. Even though now, when I write "happy with him," I am not comfortable with feeling happy with him. It goes against all the defenses I've been piling up over the years.

It's a start, though. Let's see if I can do this poor guy some justice. It's only fair, since I bash the heck out of him later in the book!

But seriously, it is important to make the Carter character lovable. If Kay loves him (as a friend), and the reader loves him, then it's going to be that much harder for them to break away from him. It's got to tear her up and it's got to tear the reader up. She can't love him, but her code of honor says, Never abandon a friend.

So that's what I'm doing with chapter 16. I've been adding in a lot of scenes to further establish their relationship and also to give the reader some sense of why she's wanting to leave him later on -- I have him stalking her at a dance, which actually happened to me but with some different guy.

On the i-Pod: "Same Old River" -- Sam Bush

Garrison Keillor kicks my ass.

I read this and I had to laugh, thinking about all the times I'm on the SCBWI discussion board talking about how *I* slam my face into the keyboard on a daily basis. But I was also thinking ... his kids didn't get interesting until they were five? What's up with that?

But he's still the Boss. Or one of 'em.

Worms! You love 'em!

I just ran across a blog by Amy Stewart, who wrote The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms, about ... worms! These are dear to my heart, since I'm including a whole chapter about them in my Soilbuilding book, and would like to write a book focusing solely on these critters and how they can help fix the soil. I gotta link to this later; I have only an hour left of quiet time before everybody comes rushing home.

(And BTW I was just looking at blogs because I was printing out my Soilbuilding book proposal and ran across the blog while I was trying to find sales figures for Amy's book. So it was legitimate research! Really!)

Noa's singing "Three Days" right now.

What you need to know about reader's reports.

Here's the link to Anna Genoese's post about reader's reports at Tor.

My Action Agenda!

Today I need to:

Do laundry. Also fold stuff. Clean laundry is piled up on the rocking chair and has taken up half of my dresser. Aiee!

Look for more jobs and send out resumes. I'm disgusted because all the horticulturalist jobs are in KC, usually over an hour from where we are. But I must forge on.

(BTW, I'm not going after an English teaching job. I am an evil selfish girl, and all that homework I'd have to grade would take me away from my story. I am looking for a job where I don't have to bring stuff home, though I'm willing to write lists of things to do at 3 a.m. the way I used to.)

Get those damn book proposals out! I'm going to try to hook the laptop to the printer, but if it crashes I'll take it to the library, which has wireless access, send it to my e-mail account, then print from this other computer (it has internet access and it has a printer).

Get off the blog! Get to work! It's ten minutes until nine, so let's go!

On the radio (KNIM, Maryville) -- Telegraph City? by Dire Straits. Cool song! I love this station.

Oh no! Now they're playing the Doors! Oh well, ya win some, ya lose some.

At Mitchell Park.

Sixth-grade girl: So I told him to bring it! So he brought it! And then he went home crying to his mom!

Short update on Symphonians.

I was chasing kindergarteners around all day, so that was fun, or something! There's always one or two that get on my nerves, where I'm thinking, "Did I not tell you to sit down 36 times in the last five minutes? And here you are up again."

Yesterday, though, I subbed at a high school. I prefer high school to elementary subbing because I can get a little story work done. And that was the case yesterday. I was filling in for the biology teacher, and her students were working on their Powerpoint presentations on biomes. So mostly I was helping students find files and making sure they weren't playing computer games instead of working. Also had to wrestle 6th hour around a little, because we had some backtalkers in there -- folks who want to see how much they can tweak the teacher/sub/whoever. Otherwise the day went smoothly.

And what do you know, I finished writing all the scene-by-scene outlines for each chapter in part 2. Except for the last chapter, which I'm going to rewrite. Then I started writing a plot outline for part 2. Whew! I was beat at the end of the day.

Getting this done has raised my spirits. While doing the chapter outlines, I was also getting lots of ideas and writing them in the margins of my MS -- places to expand the text, possible character reactions, and ways to make Kay and Carter both more pleasing characters (but still human of course).

My writing work has backed up in the weeks since the KC conference, partly because of the new laptop, which isn't hooked up to the printer and needs more memory, but partly because I got swamped by other things, one of which was the garden, which I finally mulched and planted. A little late, but oh well. I hope I can get caught up tomorrow, a little. I still need to get that proposal out to Regina, for instance! Also need to do laundry like you wouldn't believe. My husband's out of socks. Poor man.

Ms. Polacco's response.

Tip of the pen (keyboard?) to Gregory for drawing my attention to this.

Ms. Polacco has responded to the creepy post that McGraw sent all over the place at her website.

I think this knocks McGraw on their ass. But others may feel differently. And they should indeed pay her as outlined in their contract.

Back to work.

I've finally gotten back to work on Symphonians, and it's so nice. I'm concentrating on the second part, which needs it of course. To start, I'm doing short chapter outlines -- I list what happens in each scene, then write a one-sentence synopsis of the chapter, looking at what's really happening in the chapter. I also tweak chapter titles so they get closer to the heart of what each chapter is covering, and make a list of images that run through the chapter. Also random notes all over the MS.

It's kind of exciting to work on a novel that I like! Even though I still get frustrated at times with the fact that the words don't just pop out of my head, fully formed, like Athena. But I ain't Zeus, either, and I don't have headaches like he does. Oh, yeah I do: It's called a novel-in-progress.

I've also been sending out resumes and job apps hither and yon. I'd like to get a job before the summer's out. Not teaching, though. I know I would be constantly lamenting my inability to work on my own writing, even while I attempt to teach others to write. I feel that I'd be better off at a library or with the Missouri Department of Conservation, which are jobs that I could do that would inform my writing and not threaten it.

Federal funding whacks Ms. Polacco.

This letter from Patricia Polacco was forwarded to the JWKC listserv. Check it out. And forward it to everyone you can!

> Urgent Notice....
>
> To All Educators, Librarians, and Media Specialists
>
> Regarding the cancellation of my appearance at the IRA in Chicago for May
> 2 and 3, 2006
>
> A few months ago I was approached by The Buchanan Associates in Dublin, OH
> to appear at the International Reading Association Conference in Chicago
> on May 2 and 3, 2006. I was to be part of 5 events. Speeches, 'meet and
> greet' and book signings.
>
> I was happy to accept the invitation which, I assumed, was coming from the
> I.R.A. and my publisher. It is always such an honor for me to speak and
> interact with teachers and librarians from around the country.
>
> But, then, a very disturbing turn of events transpired. My staff started
> receiving phone calls and emails from this firm in Ohio requesting that I
> furnish them with a detailed written outline of what I intended to include
> in my speeches. I assumed, of course, that this was asked so that a
> synopsis of my content could be included in a printed brochure furnished
> to the conferees.
>
> You can imagine my astonishment when I finally called this firm and
> learned that this was not the reason. They requested my written outline
> because their 'client' wanted to make sure that I would not discuss my
> deep concern about NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND MANDATE...as well as my concern
> that there is a link between this mandate and the SRA/McGraw Hill Company
> who manufactures, prints, and profits from the sale of these tests to
> school systems all over our country.
>
> It was then that I closely reviewed all if the emails (I had not up until
> this time because I had been doing school visits and was not home until
> now) I then realized that the "client" that this firm referred to, but
> never names, was indeed, SRA/McGraw Hill! I also learned from the
> Officials of the IRA that SRA/McGraw Hill was indeed sponsoring the event
> that I had been invited to. I was shocked!
>
> This "firm" insisted that my speech be "upbeat, non-controversial, and
> non-political"...I countered with the fact that the plight of the American
> teacher is far from "upbeat" and they are caught in the vice grip of the
> most controversial and political LIE that has ever been perpetrated on the
> American teacher.
>
> I was also quite mystified as to why SRA/McGraw Hill would even select ME
> and invite me to be a part of their program knowing how strongly I feel
> about this entire situation.
>
> My speeches certainly do inspire teachers...I truly believe they are among
> the last hero's we have in our country...but I always mention the
> destructive path that is laying wasted to our schools and that is the No
> Child Left Behind Mandate!
>
> I did mention to them that I considered this broaching "censorship" and a
> violation of my freedom of speech.
>
> Finally, after receiving numerous emails from this 'firm' that got more
> and more 'insistences'...I finally sent them a written refusal to alter my
> speeches in any way, Certainly I can moderate their length, but I refused
> to alter the content. I made them aware if they truly had a problem with
> this, then they could "un-invite" me to be part of their event.
>
> Needless to sat, SRA/McGraw Hill cancelled my programs within the hour!
>
> My main concern here, is that I very much fear the conferee's will be led
> to believe that it is I who cancelled this event. The cancellation was the
> choice of SRA/McGraw Hill and was generated by a blatant attempt to CENSOR
> my remarks and the content of what I say to teachers. Which is a clear
> infringement of my constitutional right to freedom of speech. I pride
> myself on being an advocate for America's teachers as well as being one of
> the most reliable speakers at conferences in our country.
>
> My lawyers and I have set a formal request to SRA/McGraw Hill through
> their representative, The Buchanan Associates in Dublin, Ohio, to post the
> following signs outside of each venue at the conference where I am
> schedules to speak.
>
> "DUE TO PHILOSOPHICAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN SRA/McGRAW HILL AND PATRICIA
> POLACCO, SRA/McGRAW HILL
> HAS CHOSEN TO CANCEL ALL OF PATRICIA POLACCO'S APPEARANCES AT THIS EVENT"
>
> Call anyone you know that was either going to attend my events, or that
> did and were disappointed and tell them why this happened.
>
> I am very disturbed by this on may levels. It seems that we American's are
> losing, by leaps and bounds, our constitution "guaranteed" rights.
>
> I am insulted and very offended not only on my own behalf, but also
> because of these various organizations that seek to profit from the misery
> for our teachers and school children. Profits and money seem to matter
> much more that truly making changes to our educational systems that would
> truly help our children. I have to admit that I have a certain amount of
> pride in taking this stand on your behalf.
>
> Yours faithfully,
> Patricia Polacco

In my opinion, No Child Left Behind stinks.

Now I have to wait for the feds to show up at the door .... cripes.

How to write a synopsis ... maybe.

Short version: I usually bash my head on the keyboard for a while, then write a crappy synopsis. Then I try to rewrite it a couple of times. Then I try not to grimace as I send the damn thing out.

I don't know of a way to make it painless. Some writers chug the bourbon to be able to produce something. But then you get drunk, then you start writing a really bad synopsis, but then you end up writing about how nobody likes your writing anymore, and then you start crying, and then you fall asleep.

Not that this has happened to me.

But the head-banging on the keyboard might not be working so well. Regina Brooks, the literary agent, was to critique the first five pages of my Symphonians novel. But instead she said, "Girl, your synopsis is confusing as heck!" Bang bang and down went the novel in flames! Just because my synopsis is confusing as heck! Where's the bourbon!

So maybe that's why I'm so freaked out about sending her the book proposal. "Girl, your proposal is confusing as heck! Not to mention it's about dirt!" But I gotta remember that she did light up when I mentioned the gardening books. I've got to write the proposal up and stop freaking about it. Geez.

Maybe it would be a good idea if I went to Mo West and got my study room and just spent the day working on that book proposal. Then, in the query letter, I could also mention other gardening-book projects that are possibilities. Then we could take it from there. It beats sitting in the corner and whining.

At the JWKC meeting.

Christine said, "Don't be starstruck by an editor."

Elizabeth: My editor spit on me!
Me: I spilled my chocolate milk on a editor!
Mary: I totaled my car with two agents in it!

Mary won.

I'm baaaaack.

I did find Blackie, the stuffed poodle. She was hiding behind the curtains. Now I remember that Miss Thang was playing hide-and-seek with the poodle earlier. Apparently the dog had hidden herself too well. Sure freaked me out.

We did end up going to the Old Market, and I got two more books about soil and how to build it up. It's so nice that I get all excited about soilbuilding. There's a lot of stuff in horticulture lately that just leaves me cold. It's not that the topics themselves aren't interesting, but I'm just jaded. I'll come around one of these days, though.

In the meantime, I really need to get that book proposal out to Regina about the soilbuilding book. I keep getting cold feet, though, about sending it. "What if it's not the best, what if the sloppy way I've written it loses me the job," etc. Of course, if I don't send it, I don't get rejected.

I keep telling myself that I'm completely jaded about rejection, that rejection doesn't bug me, but obviously that is not the case!

Omahaaaaa!

We're in Omaha today, as we have been for the past two days. Miss Thang, who just woke up, is grinning at me from her bed, then burrows under her blankets again. We have lost her little black poodle doll, who she calls Blackie. I'm getting a little concerned because we still haven't been able to find it. I was outside tearing through the car last night, but no luck.

Anyway, while my husband went to the big meeting, the kid and I went to the zoo. I took her there when she was 2, and she still remembers bits of it. If you happen to come to Omaha, go to that zoo. The aquarium is amazing. We spent some time watching the penguins dive through the water, silver streams of bubbles in their wake. There's a little bubble-thing you can sit inside and watch them. When you tear up little scraps of paper and put them over the air vent inside the bubble, the paper dances around and the penguins come over and try to eat them, and the penguins are within arm's reach, though technically you can't touch them of course. So neat. Then you go into the tunnel under the aquarium where sharks glide over your head.

My favorites were the raccoons (I gave the kid a snack so I could sit there and watch them for as long as possible ... she got bored with me pretty quickly) and the bats (there was a baby clinging to the wall near where I stood, and Mama bat kept zipping around in front of my face). There was a lady in there who was kind of freaked out by the bats, but they have such bad press from Hollywood when they're actually really great animals to have around. Listen, any creature who can catch 600 mosquitoes an hour is tops in my book.

Two downsides to the zoo: by the afternoon, I was wishing we had a little moped to drive around because our legs were falling off. The second one: Miss Thang and I saw the wallabies from the train and then I got stuck with a Raffi song in my head: "Willaby, wallaby, woo, an elephant sat on you," etc.

Haven't made it down to Jackson Street Books yet. Dammit. I'd like to do that today, but my sister has a baby shower at 1. I'm tempted to cancel ... I only get to visit the Old Market once a year. Already have the kid's gifts: "If You Give a Pig a Party" and "Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late!" Always books. But they're good books.

Miss Thang is hanging off the bed with her head on the floor. Guess I'd better sign off for now.

Laptop stuff.

Actually I'm getting lazy this time and sending you over to Elizabeth's blog, which has conference stuff in better detail than I do!

I finally went out today and bought a new laptop, since the A drive on my old laptop (a Compaq Armada from the Bronze Age) has been clinching up on me. I try to put something on a floppy and GZZGZZGZGGZZZ goes the computer, which has been giving me grief unknown. So I have gotten a cheap Gateway, because really all I want is a glorified typewriter. Also internet access would be nice. But I have discovered that memory sticks are doing the job that an A:drive floppy used to do. Also you can put a lot of novels onto a little memory stick. So now I'm totally sold on those!

The laptops are still at Best Buy, getting a data transfer. But after that's done I can pick them up. Oh boy! So I'm all excited. It's a Mother's Day/birthday present. Not to mention that I need it. And I can also take it off my taxes. So we all win!

Conference news part 1

Just thinking about this is wearing me out. Okay, I'm already worn out, but it's my own damn fault. My husband had the DVD of "Ray" playing when I was ready to go to sleep last night -- I didn't know I'd be up until after midnight watching it. So that was evil. Good movie, but at the wrong time!

Let's see ... I moderated the children's session of the 90-second shameless pitches. We were behind on the schedule so I kept things moving. I had fun moderating. I just treated the event like the poetry reading we used to have here in town with the Gang of Poets, except here we didn't raise hell until the authorities showed up. But I tried to make it fun, filled up the silence (as the participants walked across the big room to take the mic) by making wisecracks and dumb jokes, and folks seemed to appreciate that. Also did my best to make the readers feel comfortable and more at ease. My own pitch went over like a dead cat on the freeway, which kind of upset me at the time, but now I'm like, what the hell, I'll try something less intense next time.

I helped out at the conference a lot. The nice thing about volunteering is that folks appreciate your help, and sometimes you get the chance to help out the editors and agents and authors, too. Maybe it'll come back to me later, and even if it doesn't, it's cool.

Shoot, I better get out of here. I still have to go to the bank before I go to the school district office. More conference stuff later! Maybe I should write something useful next time, about how to get the most out of your conference. Let's try that.

Whew, what a conference!

It’s Sunday morning and I'm typing this into my computer to post to the blog later, since I don't have internet access on this machine. I’m sipping a fruit smoothie. I could use some kind of bread thing to go with this but I’m too cheap. Also, I’m hoping that there’ll be some kind of food at this mornings’ master classes. If there’s not I might die.

(Note, written on Sunday night: I never got any bread stuff but as you can see I survived.)

Wasn’t able to elicit much interest in my Symphonians novel, but Regina Brooks was really interested in my soilbuilding and earthworm books. I said, “I checked your website but I didn’t see that you’ve sold much gardening stuff, so I wasn’t sure about approaching you with this.” She said, “The website shows what we’ve done, not what we’re looking for.” She said that people want gardening stuff but there aren’t a whole lot of people out there writing it. After that meeting, I went strutting down the hall singing "Honeymoon Feeling" by Roy Clark. (A more appropriate song would have been "Shining Star" by Earth Wind and Fire, but what the hell, I was being happy.)

The other two agents seemed interested in seeing my gardening stuff, though Regina was most interested. So, I need to write up my book proposals. Actually, the soilbuilding proposal is in pretty good shape, while the earthworm proposal … well it needs to be written, period.

Before I get started on the conference, I gotta tell you about two things that happened last week, just before I left.

Last Tuesday I got a call from Therese at Organic Gardening about some revisions that need to be done for my alfalfa article. She talked about how they needed some writing for the soil section of OG. I mentioned my soilbuilding book and said that I was interested in writing up articles based on my research for that book. She said that they had a publishing arm (Rodale Books, of course) and if I had my book published through them, they’d also be able to reprint portions of my book in that section. I picked myself up off the floor and said, “Cool.”

(I don’t know if I was that nonchalant. But once I was off the phone I went screaming up and down the hall.)

More related news – on Friday, when I was getting ready to go to the conference, I got an e-mail from Janine at FSG. She said no on the Symphonians. Alas! But she had attached the reader’s report she’d mentioned to me earlier. Here’s the full text. BUT when you read it, DON’T GET INDIGNANT ON MY BEHALF. I will explain why after you have read it.

***Text starts here:***

The Symphonians starts out strong. Kathy is a sympathetic and believable character. She reminds me of the geeky girl characters I loved as a pre-teen (like Jessica in Rachel Vail’s Wonder). Her awkwardness is clear in her narration, and it comes off as realistic and appealing for the most part; however, it becomes annoying in the footnotes Kathy uses to expand on some of her comments. This might be fixed by making them parenthetical statements, though some seem simply unnecessary. A good example of how Kathy’s voice is honest and interesting is how she describes her feelings for Noel by the sensations of them first, only labeling them much later. The plot is also engaging: I was drawn easily into Kathy’s problems with Noel and the school band.

Unfortunately, by the end of the book I was mostly disenchanted. The biggest problem is that, in the last third or so, the lessons and inspirations Cordell wants to impart on the theme of abusive relationships take precedence over the story itself. Instead of interesting action or even moments in which characters are further revealed, we get a series of bland dialogues between blander versions of the characters we have come to know on abuse, relationships, and responsibility. Yvonne warns Kathy on page 263, “I’m going to get all Dr. Phil on you here for a minute,” but it is Cordell who has adopted this tone for most of her characters by this point, even in Kathy’s novel-within-a-novel. There is little or no humor or subtext to liven up these exchanges, and the effect is dull and tedious. The other prominent tone at the end of the story is melodrama. Instead of sympathizing with Kathy when she runs from Carter to flush his sleeping pills, or when she is trailing him in her car on slippery roads to make sure he gets back safely, or has intense conversations with Carter or with Noel about Carter, I was getting annoyed with the unrelenting and repetitive tragic tone of these episodes. It may be that those episodes are legitimate and necessary to the story, but that the end is packed too tightly with them to work. The melodramatic tone of the end is also part of another problem: After all our time following her story, Kathy has not grown up in a satisfying way. She presents herself as triumphant at the end—a new, strong, beautiful woman who has overcome her demons—but the previous pages reveal her to be melodramatic and self-involved to a fault. For example, in the last five pages, she tells off Carter for destroying her novel, for intimidating and manipulating her, and for being deluded about their relationship, but she never reflects on her own cruelty towards Carter, some of which is on display in this same last scene. This ending comes off as an excessive revenge fantasy rather than a true triumph.

There are a few other small problems in the story, such as the almost complete lack of space devoted to Kathy’s college room-mate, and the lack of explanation of Noel’s decision to delay attending college for at least two years.

Opinion:

The Symphonians has some potential, but the second half of the MS needs a lot of revision to realize it. Cordell is clearly capable of creating engaging and realistic teenage characters (although some might argue Kathy and her circle are a little squeaky clean—her favorite swear is “St.Cecilia!”—I didn’t feel this was fake or forced) and plots. I was involved enough in the story to be disappointed when it deteriorated into an issues-first lesson, and when the appealing Kathy grew into a self-indulgent drama queen instead of a thoughtful young woman. If you have the time and inclination, and if Ms. Cordell is willing to revise extensively, The Symphonians could turn into a worthwhile project.

***End text.***

When I’d picked myself off the floor, I said, “Oh my God, SHE’S RIGHT! SHE’S ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!”

Last year, from March to December, I revised the hell out of Symphonians. I overhauled the whole thing, got everything pretty much to where I wanted it, then went back to do the fine tuning.

I worked on the story one chapter at a time. I’d do intensive work on each chapter, working to make character realistic, to make the dialogue flow, to see that the chapter had echoes within it that echoed back and forth. It was tough work.

But that chapter-by-chapter work petered out ... right at the beginning of the second part. I said, “Oh, hell, I’m so tired of this damn novel, and I need to work on the Angel anthology, send it to FSG.” So I slacked on the second part, totally slacked on it.

And you see it has come back to kick me in the ass.

That is why I say she’s absolutely right. I can see why editors don’t usually send out reader’s reports, because they are harsh, and I can see where a lot of writers would get indignant. But this is one of the best whole-book critiques I have gotten in a long time.

I’m going to ask Janine to thank that reader for me.

More on the conference later, I guess! I’m still trying to absorb everything.

On the I-Pod: “Illegal Smile” by John Prine.

Then “Mushrooms” by Noa (she’s out of Israel and sings in Hebrew, generally, and I love her stuff.)

More yammering.

I can't wait! I can't wait! The conference starts tomorrow! I'm so tired and I need to get some more stuff done but I'm on the computer playing with this damn blog! But I don't care! Somebody give me some more exclaimation marks, I'm running low! But have I totally run out of exclaimation marks? Must I now use question marks? Geez I'm so hyper, let's give it a rest already.

This post is nothing but me running my mouth again. I'm going to make some piles of stuff that I'll need tomorrow and then I'm off to bed. Good NIGHT.

On the i-Pod: "Boeing Boeing 707" by Roger Miller. Just right for my mood.

Hell breaking loose!

Okay, I have 20 book-bouquets sitting on every surface in the kitchen. My husband, who was in Kansas City anyway, went on down to his folk's house and picked up the bouquets and brought them clear back up here (that was a 90-minute drive coming back, bless his heart) so on Friday I'll be able to load up the car and drive down to the Northlands without having to go a zillion miles out of my way.

My daughter got pinkeye so I had to cancel my subbing today. She can't go to preschool because the teacher's worried she'll spread it to the other kids. Rats. I hated to cancel my subbing because I don't like messing with my employers like that. But I am glad the job is flexible enough to allow that. In the city job, we were penalized for taking time off for our kids. I don't miss those guys.

The good part, though is that I can get caught up on the stuff I need to do for the conference. Need to print out a pile of synops and queries so I'll have 'em ready just in case. Need to see if I have all the signs done. Need to find out what time I need to show up, and make lists of what I can do to help out. I want to be sure that I can help out and take the initiative -- the conference bosses heads are whirling with all the stuff they already have to do.

Okay, let's get to work! I'll have my laptop with me, though it doesn't have internet access -- I'll write posts this weekend, Lord willing, and load 'em up on Monday or Tuesday or whenever I get my brain back!

On the CD player: "Eastbound and Down" by Jerry Reed (a good song for gettin' things done).

Here comes the conference!

I don't know what it is about spring, especially April and May, but even if you're not in the horticulture business, you end up running like crazy. Suddenly my schedule is packed full of all the fun stuff you can imagine. Well, some of it's fun, anyway, and some's more like a drag, but what the hey. I will be seeing the allergist tomorrow at last, which is nice. And I did get some novel revised when I was subbing last week, so that was nice, too.

Anyway, the big Missouri Writer's Guild conference is coming up, and we're putting the hammer down as we hit the last week and all its preparations. I'm fixing up floral centerpieces (with the help of my mother-in-law, who used to work as a floral designer -- she's not doing it any more but she still remembers her stuff!) and signs for the conference, while pulling my own stuff together, however feebly. Gotta write up a sheet for what I'm going to say at my five-minute pitch to an agent. Gotta think of what I could say at my critique with a different agent and be ready for whatever questions she throws at me. Also making a list so I don't go clear out there and discover that I forgot my pajamas, or my hairbrush, or my deodorant.

Just realized I need to write my gardening column, too. Whoops! Better get 'er done.

At the poetry reading.

Melissa: I probably broke all the rules of poetry in this poem.
Dave: That's the attitude!

Conscious deliberation?

I rediscovered an article from the Horn Book magazine. (It wasn’t totally lost, since I still have all my old copies of the magazine, but I haven’t had time to go digging through them again to find it.) It’s by Jennifer Armstrong, who wrote Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World and a bunch of other books, including the Mairhe/Mary Mehan novels.

Now, think about the assertion she made: that the creation of novels is the work of the conscious mind. That it’s carefully planned out. That you decide what you’re writing about, what’s at the heart of your novel, and you consciously build images and ideas that play off that central idea, and then you create the novel.

That every work of art is built through conscious deliberation by the novelist and the choices she makes.

There’s a little in her ideas that I resist – I don’t think all the choices are conscious. However, when you start consciously building that ladder of ideas and play with it long enough, the unconscious mind is going to kick in and start helping out.

But I really like this idea of being able to plan the thematic arc of the novel, and this idea of how to do it. I want my writing to be more than just stories; I want them to be beautiful, to harmonize with all that comes before and after. I just could never get a good idea of how to set up that whole thematic arc from other writing books, which frustrated me. This article helps me do that. I just wish she’d said more about it.

After this article came out, though, there were a bunch of letters complaining, “Oh, her way is too cerebral, how can there be any room for inspiration to work here?” And I was going, it’s just one way to plan, for heaven’s sake, she’s not saying you have to do it, but it is a good idea.

But then read Nancy Werlin's response in a different issue of the magazine.

What do you think?

On the CD player right now: "Bad Love" by Eric Clapton.

A bunny for you.

Happy Easter, everybody!

Here's a pet bunny you can play with.

adopt your own virtual pet!

The latest psychological block.

I was just a moment ago looking at my dishes. I have a cake pan in the sink that needs to be washed so I can return it to my mother-in-law this afternoon. Also dishes piled up in stacks and towers. I looked, then fled!

But then I was thinking, you know, I was freaking out because I have a yucky cake pan in the sink. It wasn’t so much the stacks, it was the stuff sitting in the sink that I had to get out of my way. And it’s not that much stuff, really. I just have to move that stuff out of the way so I can get started with dishes. Just a small thing. But it’s like this huge psychological barrier – finding an excuse to shirk dishes, I grab it and make it a big thing.

Of course I do the same thing with the novel. Such agony to face a single piece of paper and start marking it up. But once I start, I get going, and once I get going, it's much better.

Yet each time I hate it and it drives me crazy, even though the results are invaribly good. Strange.

On the CD player: "Dang Me" by Roger Miller.

Some rain!

We're getting a big ol' thunderstorm hitting my town right now. It was a tornado supercell but after it moved across the river out of Kansas it downgraded to a severe thunderstorm. Now it's raining so hard it's like being inside the dishwasher, except the water is cool and not soapy. Downspouts are gushing and Miss Thang is peeking out the window on her tiptoes watching water spill down from the roof, where our over-full gutters can't take all the excess.

When the storms were hitting northeast Kansas, I had the maps out and was tracking the progress of the storms from what the guys on the radio were saying. When I look at radar on the internet, it's just like, "Big red blob eating Andrew County." But when I'm tracking the storm with my maps and the radio, it seems more exciting and immediate. And Bill Spencer, local weather guru for the northeast Kansas radio stations, is giving all the color commentary, explaining how supercells form. Once when I was listening to Bill Spencer commenting on more Kansas weather, I got to see a huge weather formation that was over Kansas collapsing upon itself and create some new weather beast. I don't know what it was called, but I think the weather formation, as it collapsed, created these huge winds that knocked down stuff in Kansas. I was in St. Joseph at the time, where it was clear, but he was describing what was happening as I watched the thunderhead collapse like some 10,000-foot-tall souffle, and it was pretty cool.

This has absolutely nothing to do with writing, but what the hey. I get all excited about severe weather. Am I the only person to sit around with maps and radios, tracking storms? If I start DXing stations out of Columbia, Mo. and Omaha to follow their tornado warnings (which I have done), does this mean I'm obsessed?

Hey, it beats taking drugs and shooting up stuff.

On the i-Pod: Jascha Heifetz playing the hell out of Tchikovsky's Violin Concerto (Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony on a wild ride with him).

All the professionals do it like that.

There was an "evil hint in the air," as a professional writer might put it.

-- from a slush pile submission.

Ear infection and rejection.

Alas, the Angel in the Silence short-story collection came back with a rejection letter, as I found out when I returned from KC last night. Was tempted to say, "I drove through a thunderstorm with an ear infection and all I got was this lousy rejection!" But when you say it out loud, it doesn't scan; moreover, it makes no sense. Such is my life.

But she did put a little balloon sticker on the rejection letter, which I liked. That's the first time I'd gotten a sticker on a rejection. Is this the start of a trend?

I'll hit her up with a query for Symphonians next. Or have I already sent Symphonians to her? And if I did, was it the revised version?

Shoot, gotta get a new list of markets to send the collection to. I might try some adult houses and see how that goes. I need to be sending this to agents, too. That way I can avoid all this back-and-forth. I'll just have the agent send me all my rejection letters and I can see if anyone else is putting stickers on theirs.

I should probably get this ear infection looked at. I'll be getting a cortizone shot tomorrow; maybe that'll help clear up these everlasting ear infections by clearing up this everlasting post-nasal drip. I have allergies out the wazoo and sometimes my nose gets so clogged that when I talk I sound like I'm holding my nose, which I am not. And I don't want to go to the MWG conference in that state!

On the CD player -- Sam Bush, "Same Ol' River" from Ice Caps: Peaks of Telluride

Another Action Agenda.

I need to get organized. Ha ha!

I need to be working on Leavetaking. I did a little work on it yesterday, at least, but I feel that I have got to rewrite every scene from the ground up, when I probably don’t have to. But when I say “I probably don’t have to,” I wonder if I’m just being a lazy bum who doesn’t want to improve her damn novel. Don’t mind me, I’m just being neurotic.

I also need to be filling out an application and writing essays for an English teaching position here at the local schools.

I should type up my essays this afternoon. Why should a writer be so scared of essays? Because I’m chicken, that’s why. I’m shooting for a job that I could do (I know all the English stuff you’d ever need to have stuffed into your head, and I can handle a room of rowdy high schoolers who don’t want to be there) but that I don’t have certification for, so I could be the front runner only to have somebody with fewer skills walk in with a teacher’s certification and walk out with my job. Just the way it happened last time.

And I need to get my pitches ready for the big MWG conference that’s coming up. I have a 90-second pitch that I need to do. I have three excerpts from two different novels and I need to choose one – and I need to hurry so I can practice it. Choose, but choose wisely! And then I need to get my five-minute pitch ready for my face-to-face meeting with my agent (okay, she ain’t my agent yet), and fix up my homework for the Sunday master class. Amongst other things. I want to choose the bestest outfits to wear so I just stun the bejesus out of the participants. I also need to fix up 18-20 centerpieces for 18-20 tables. But my mother-in-law and I are going to do that together, thank goodness!

And I need to write a gardening column by tonight. As usual, I’m not sure what it’s going to be about. Something about spring planting. Maybe lawn care. Speaking of that, we need to get the lawnmower fixed. But not today.

And I read little scraps of the Iliad when I find time. Got to a good part, when Zeus goes up on Ida, gets out the little scale and weighs the fate of the Acheans and the Trojans, and then whips a major thunderbolt across the sky and scares the hell out of the Acheans. I'm not doing justice to the scene. Arrgh.

Gotta take the kid outside today, because it’s so nice out. Maybe I could work on some of the pitches at the playground.

Also gotta make lunch.

One thing at a time, woman! Let’s get lunch going.

On the I-Pod right now:

“Illegal Smile” by John Prine. Well done. Hot dog bun. My sister’s a nun.

Then the Judas Priest version of “Johnny Be Good.”

Fingers crossed.

I sent my "Truman and Israel -- 1948" story to Pitspopany Press, which was looking for books related to the upcoming 50th anniversary of Israeli independence. Got an e-mail back from the managing editor saying, "Sounds interesting. We'll get back with you" (0r something like that) so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It would be nice to get a book credit. Editors seem to like that. Shoot, I would like that myself!

So we'll see how that goes. I just wish I'd sent the dang thing sooner.

Cool article about the Dalai Lama.

Here's the link: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2006/04/01/wdalai01.xml

Some good stuff.

So I guess money doesn't get you everything.

Me: The poor get poorer and the rich CEO's get richer.
BRC: No they don't.
Me (outraged): What!
BRC: Sometimes they ... die.

Just so you know where to find me.

I got one rejection too many today, so I'm going to take the pseudonym "Stephen King" and move to Maine.

It will be fun, she said wistfully, until the authorities kick the door in.

***

Anne Dillon wrote this in "The Writing Life:"

"The line of word is a hammer. You hammer against the walls of your house. You tap the walls, lightly, everywhere. After giving many years' attention to these things, you know what to listen for. Some of the walls are bearing walls; they have to stay, or everything will fall down. Other walls can go with impunity; you can hear the difference. Unfortunately, it is often a bearing wall that has to go. It cannot be helped. There is only one solution, which appalls you, but there it is. Knock it out. Duck."

I was able to knock out some bearing walls after reading that, though it feels pretty awful right now. I'm trying to get the story rebuilt and that's what needs to be done. I know it does work, eventually, and I will get a better story for it. Just hard to believe that at this juncture.

I do hate being so close to the story that I don't know what to do with it or how to proceed, and then I start questioning every decision I make with the MS, and then I start wondering if I'm just doing everything wrong and I should just go back to school and be a mechanic.

Haven't gotten to the point where I have scrapped everything yet. But I have been taking an awful long break from the MS during the last two weeks. Not liking that too much.

I love my blog!

My blog is too much fun! I love it! I love the nice layout of the pages. I love my little pinkish hedgehog that hops into the air and rolls into a ball. (I tried to add a llama but messed up the code -- I'll try again later.) I love how it takes my insane thoughts and makes them all sleeked up and important-looking. I love forest green. I love my little writing guy icon, though I still have thoughts of replacing him with a praying mantis, just for fun. I love getting all the goofy comments from my husband and posting them so everyone can see what a funny guy he is. I love slapping photos onto my articles. I love blabbing and looking so knowledgeable and smart, and the reader never suspects that I am still suffering, alas, from food poisoning! Did I say I love blabbing? Well I do twice over.

Maybe it's about time I lay down.

So I'm a few days off.

BRC: They're having a Monty Python marathon on BBCAmerica tomorrow.
Me: I thought that wasn't supposed to happen until April 1.
BRC: Tomorrow is April 1.
Me: Really?
BRC: No, actually it's March 32nd.

Rejection ain't forever.

These days I get surprised at how mad writers get about rejections. Have you seen rejectioncollection.com? These writers vent, sometimes in the purplest prose, about how much editors hate them. They read way too much into form rejections. Others kind of go off the deep end, and I'd tiptoe around these if I were you.

Don't get me wrong, I too get upset about rejections, though not as upset as I used to get. (Once I made a mix tape of "Tunes to Kick Ass By.") But now that I look back at the story I'd been sending out, it's probably just as well it had been rejected. That puppy would have embarrassed me in the long run.

The truth is, a lot of stories that writers are sending out are simply not ready for publication. The more I write and the more I learn, the more I see that this is so. Of course, if you've been working on a story for the last five years, and pouring your heart out into it, you're going to see your kid as some really good stuff. You're deeply engaged by the story you're telling. And right now you're at the top of your form. How could this story not be ready to be published?

It takes at least ten years of study and writing to create a story worth publishing. There are so many intricacies that you must learn in order to write a novel that is worth the reading. Character, voice, plot, and theme are only the tip of the iceberg. You must also learn pacing, how to use cumulative effects, how to bring the character into the realm of the extraordinary, how to be absolutely fluent in your language at all times. And there's much more to be learned beyond all this. Five years ain't going to hack it.

Listen, guys, we are all going to get rejected. Even Jane Yolen, one of the goddesses of children's publishing, still gets rejected. Those writers who get accepted right off the bat are rare. Yet so many people think it's the norm to break out of the gate and immediately become a superstar.

Ty Cobb's batting average, .366, was the highest of the game. That meant he hit the ball 3.6 times out of every 10. Not even four times out of ten! Not even half!

So if you're really good, then you're going to get something about three and a half times for every ten tries. If you're a beginner, your average is going to go down somewhat.

Let's use another example, this time from direct marketing sales.

"Overall, a good return on mass mailings to new prospects runs .1 percent to 5 percent. A 2 to 3 percent response is excellent. Anything near 5 percent is spectacular. When it comes to mailings to loyal customers, however — say, your top 10 percent of big spenders — you should expect returns closer to 30 percent and up. Successful mailings depend on clearly defined targets and goals." From Joanna Krotz's article here.

And that's just straight odds. But you see when you target your list and you've been around a while and you have a good product, er, story to deliver, your chances go up.

Rejection's just part of the game. Don't take it too personally. Just keep stepping up to the plate.

More goofy stuff.

Heard this on KKFI:

Band member: A heckler already! I left the bars to get away from the hecklers.
Band member #2: I left the bars so I could understand the hecklers.

--from the Cowtown City Limits CD. (Haven't been able to find a copy of it, though.)

They say it's your birthday! Well, it's my birthday too yeah!

Actually (and no fooling) my birthday's tomorrow. I will be 35 in about three hours. So it goes.

Every year "Get a novel accepted and published" is on the top of my New Years Revelations list. But I'm thinking that I am going to succeed this year. My novel, The Symphonians, is really good after my having revised it into the ground.

Also, I've been writing seriously and studying the craft for over ten years now. I talk a lot about what I call the "Ten-Year Plan," which was taken from a study in creativity that said that it takes about ten years of study and work for the artist to write something that really makes the sparks fly. A look at writers' careers overall seems to bear this out.

To have a first novel published at 35, well, it beats having it published when I'm 95. At least I'll be attending the big Missouri Writer's Guild conference in KC at the end of this month. I hope I can get an agent, or get a referral from an author for an agent or editor. Networking also goes a long way toward publication. I'll take what I can get.

But I've got to hurry up and use my time wisely. I'm going to apply for an English teacher position here at the high school. Have to write lesson plans -- arrgh. But that'll eat up a lot of my writing time, double arrgh.

But hanging around my audience and getting to know them well over time is a definite plus. And if I can help them learn how to write and read well, then I'll have done a good thing.

So hurry up and accept my book! I don't have much time to get it revised!