[fiction, instead of lies]

Way back in January (because I am, if nothing else, completely on top of all trends and kidlitosphere conversations) quilting author and blogger Kyra blogged about who actually wins the Coretta Scott King Awards. It was an interesting bunch of statics, and a good post, and it reminded me of an observation I made about the CSK winners this year — all of them were awards for historical fiction.

Someone mentioned that historical fiction is always what wins — and I’d have to suspend comment on that until I could see some type of statistical compilation that backed that up. But I did remember wondering if that’s just the pool the CSK jury had to dip into, or if there’s a preference by the ALA juries and committees to award portrayals of African American history over other topics. Anyway – just an idle thought that I’ll look more into, when I have time. When I am not writing three books at once.

(WHY am I doing that? Because… it’s summer, the light [please note I did not say the sun - we're having the worst gray overcast weather] still comes up at 4 a.m., and I am overflowing with twitchy, nervous energy — usually at two or three a.m., but energy nonetheless. We’ll see if it’s coherent energy, or just the blathering sort.)

Via Tor.com, Prolific paranormal/true crime/vampire writer L.A. Banks scares herself. (Is it wrong of me to snicker loudly at that?) I’d scare myself, too, if I wrote what she writes, in a darkened house, at 3 a.m…. L.A. Banks is one of the very few REALLY successful writers of color in the SFF community, and while she doesn’t write YA fiction… I’m hoping she might someday.

Meanwhile, art continues to flourish in my neighborhood. These are two of a series of toothy computer monitors and TV sets, just down at the corner — in the “back” yard of the same crescent I’m in. And I have no idea why there’s always art in that corner, but it’s usually Banksy-esque and always thought-provoking. This one is a cross between the Little Shop of Horrors Audrey, Jr. plant and those 70′s “Kill Your Television!” bumper stickers.

Revision. Because it means I’ve sold another book, and I’m working, being a writer. Which is just exceptionally cool.

The countdown of “almost done” for Kelly’s Jane poems, and knowing that yet another of my dearest friends will soon be in print.

New story ideas and fun historical research. And poison.

The light at the end of the tunnel for Tech Boy’s PhD.

Actually, the endless rain. Because I’d rather be dreary than too hot, at this point. (This may change.)

Other happiness will surface, but those are the thoughts as of this moment. Also: that Tales of Mere Existence is somewhat addictive, and very depressingly funny.

I know the cartoon is a bit of a joke… however, it is so very good to find those rare people for whom what you see is exactly what you get.

And man — I still love Mr. Rogers.

Intrepid librarian Jennifer at Now Taking Requests, passed this picture of some WAC’s of the 6888th Postal Battalion along to me, which she took at the America at War exhibit at the Museum of American History. Thank you, Jennifer! This is a truly awesome picture, and one of the rare ones. It’s obviously posed — people who actually work don’t stand around beaming at each other, usually — but it’s still so great of a find. Especially cool is the example of their uniforms; check out the sand-colored, belted “utility” outfit, in which the WACs worked in when it was cold – which it was, most of the time, in England. I wish I had made it to that exhibit. Oh, well. Next time!

After a busy morning, a few of the usual suspects met for lunch in the food court above the exhibit hall. Kelly Fineman, Tricia Stohr-Hunt, Laura Purdie Salas and Tech Boy scarpered off to find out if anything was good, while I dropped my bags and sucked down as much water as I could. To my surprise, Kelly came back with Laurie Halse Anderson in tow. (Kelly is friend with just everyone, which makes attending a convention with her awesome.) She sat down and proceeded to chat with us about anything and everything, and in the course of that desultory conversation, she passed along some good advice.

Laurie mentioned that when she first wrote Speak, everyone thought, “Ooh, awesome. We can expect more of the same.” Well, if you’re a L.H.A. fan, you know what came next — the riveting, can’t-put-it-down-ugh-gross Fever, 1793. Her publishing house — after all the praise and awards heaped on Speak — was not thrilled. First a gripping YA novel, and now a kind of middle grade novel that has the phrase “Bring out your dead” in it? The publishers could just not see it. Fever was repeatedly rejected, and Laurie had to change houses in order to have it see the light of day.

And of course, once Fever debuted, I’m sure her original publishing house must have been kicking themselves, as it was a critical and commercial success, and it’s been turned into a stage play, I understand. But the real point is that Laurie learned it was easier for publishers to “get” her if she divided her work — her straight YA novels go to one publisher, and her MG historical fiction goes to another. (The Zoe picture book she describes as “pure silliness,” and it doesn’t exactly fall into any category, but who knows? Maybe she’ll write another and start a new grouping.) Thus the publishers don’t feel like they have to worry about whatever novel follows a spectacular hit like Speak. Laurie’s “brand,” or what have you, is safe, at each publishing house.

As my editor has passed on two novels now, since MARE’S WAR, and has indicated that they need to be of a certain “caliber” in order to follow Mare’s path, I’m wondering at the wisdom of continuing to pitch things to her which are not specifically a.) historical b.) stories which include grandmas c.) stories about a single character who faces specific odds and achieves, in her own way. I am very much aware that people love, love, LOVED Mare, and while I enjoy writing historical fiction, I’d like to write all kinds of things — frankly whatever bubbles up in my brain. I don’t like the idea of branding — although the ladies at Shrinking Violets came up with a good discussion on it recently — and realize that maybe there’s another “home” for my novels which include dual protagonists, siblings, guys, and, um, aliens. (Okay, no aliens. Yet.) I’d like to bounce this off my agent, and see what he thinks.

Right then. Back to battling jet lag (it’s a lot harder coming back five hours than coming back eight, for some reason. Travel in the winter is easier.) and considering how to get back to work.

Yes, I am a little short. Should have pulled that mic down…

The Coretta Scott King Awards Breakfast on the last Tuesday in June was a pageant of color and music and glorious words. And I sat and chewed off my lipgloss and sipped a glass of orange juice through most of it, scribbling frantically on a sheet of paper the words for a speech that I stopped reading as soon as I got on the platform.

If you get a chance, bug Kekla Magoon into telling you about her speech at the CSK Breakfast. It was so polished, so erudite, so thought-provoking that it completely freaked me out. Why didn’t I say something like that!?” I thought. (Answer from my subconscious: Um, maybe if your book was about brothers, militancy, the Black Panthers, and the 60′s, your speech would have been more like hers? Just a thought.) I started to panic. Of course, Kekla was before me. I scribbled revisions on my speech until Robin Smith got up to introduce me.

Uh-oh.

Thank God, it was well received. I was so nervous that I hardly remember the moment, except that the very gorgeous illustrator, E.B. Lewis, afterward said, “You were fantastic,” and I have to take his word for it, because I really sort of stepped out of time the minute I got in front of the microphone (and fortunately my mother forgot to film it! Bwa-hahahaha!). This is mostly what I said — I ad libbed, and only have my original notes to go on, but this is close:

By the time I was in junior high, it occurred to me that I hated history. I hated it because I was an African American student in a predominantly Caucasian school, and the only lives of African Americans to which I was exposed were people who were naked and poor, who were slaves and sharecroppers, who were lynched and beaten and victimized — at least, that’s how I saw it. Oh, how I wanted to see a people who did something other than work and die. I wanted to hear a story where my people lived. I wanted to see African Americans make history.

As some of you know, I first began researching and writing Mare’s War for my MFA thesis project at Mills College. Originally, the novel had all adult characters. Mare was a very old woman, lying on her death bed, reminiscing about days gone by. This was important, I thought. This was an African American woman surveying her own history!

And it worked. The story was well received by all of my thesis committee, and everyone was very, very polite.

And I …was bored.

…because, really, how original is it to write about an old woman who dies?

An old woman who lives, now, that’s a story.

And what a story — 800 African American women, sent across the Atlantic in stormy seas, to do a job they weren’t sure about in a country that most of them had never seen. They braved criticism from the male Army brass, slander from the newspapers back home, and their own fears to step forward and do something. They lived. They were real. They made history.

Every year in certain circles, the question is raised whether or not there’s really still a need for the Coretta Scott King awards; whether we still need to pay marked attention to the books that illuminate the stories of African American lives and history and futures. I maintain that as long as there are junior high students, starving for stories of African Americans who lived, and changed the world, this is necessary. As long as there are pieces of the American story and stories of African Americans which remain untold, this is vital. But more than necessary, this is a joy, is it not? This is a celebration.

I’m so grateful to the members of the Coretta Scott King Awards Committee who dedicate their time and attention to unearthing and celebrating those stories and to all of you who continue to read and share and support the making of great books for young people. I’m very grateful to my editor, Erin Clarke, Knopf’s fabulous book designer, Kate Gartner, and my agent, Steven Chudney, for all that they did to make this book possible. All of you, Thank you.

Librarian Robin L. Smith, Ensworth School Library, Nashville, TN, and me. (Both trying not to cry. I think we laughed as much as we sniffled that day.)

Afterward, I sat down with relief, and my thoughts ran along the lines of “I’m five feet from Charles R. Smith, Jr.!” and “Walter Dean Myers is right behind me!” and other fangirling nonsense. Boy was I glad the part where I had to say anything was over. I was tickled to listen to Vonda Micheaux Nelson (whose cute husband wore a ten-gallon hat and made cowboy hoots from the audience) and I really enjoyed Charles R. Smith, Jr., and his little riff on Twilight. (*snicker*) Snark is good, even that early in the morning.

I didn’t want to belabor the point on the platform when so many people were speaking after me, but I am so grateful to the Coretta Scott King Awards Jury. They were truly some of the nicest, funniest, most comfortable people EVER, and I got a chance to meet them on a one-to-one basis the morning before in our private breakfast. My editor remarked several times that, “Boy, that could have gone differently.” Not every committee gets on well, and not every author-committee breakfast is as comfortable and full of laughter and teasing as ours was. We sat and talked – seriously – like a happy family. So, thank you Carole McCollough, Eunice Anderson, Alan Bailey, Brenda Hunter, Jonda McNair, Martha Ruff and Robin Smith for generally being amazing and gracious people. I really, really enjoyed meeting you.

And I so much appreciated Editor E, who was doing all this schmoozing with me, plus getting up early with her two-year-old. I honestly do not know how she did it – but she was chipper and cheery every single day regardless.

Honestly, the ALA Convention was all the excitement I needed for the year. It was lovely, and I am so very glad it’s over.

…and have much to say, but not much in terms of internet connection. Post-ALA Convention, I’m on a little Virginia vacation. I’ve visited the enigmatic Jama (long-a, kids: say, Jayma) Rattigan of Alphabet Soup, and now am pestering my dear friend Charlotte of Charlotte’s Library. We’re hanging out in downtown D.C., seeing the sights, visiting the museums, and discovering the East Coast.

Pictures, and further dispatches to resume this weekend.

…I am. I so, so am.

It’s been so much fun meeting people whose names I only knew from their blogs. We are a shockingly beautiful bunch of people; the Poetry Princesses are not only gorgeous but vibrant and lively, and kind of hard to keep up with. (Try walking through the Exhibit Hall with Kelly Fineman. It is amusing, to say the least; it’s like following the Pied Piper.) I find that people are quick-draws on reading name tags; I’ve heard my name shrieked by people who I think are strangers until I take that slow second to find their name tag. Then I say, “OH!” I stood next to Carrie Jones and commiserated about having to take a picture and had no idea who she was for the whole five minutes of our conversation. (Dork Alert: Hello? could I actually LOOK at people’s names? What else is the purpose of wearing the stupid tag?)

A few thoughts:

Judith Haut, the VP for communications for Random House, is really and truly one of the nicest people in the world. If you’re ever in a roomful of people you don’t know, she’ll stand in a corner with you and drink coffee so you don’t look quite so alone,

Librarians are the BEST audience. Speed dating them at the YALSA event meant that I fell in love with all of them again. Librarians you are truly awesome human beings.

Children’s lit authors are crazy. Well, most authors are crazy, but seriously? Stand in a room full of children’s lit authors and see how long it takes you to laugh. Stand next to Libba Bray and Carrie Jones and see how long it takes you to smile and shake your head. Talk to Mitali Perkins, and you’ll find a grin blooming.

I am as big a fangirling dork as anyone. I had a silent jump-up-and-down-and-point moment in the Exhibit Hall. “Oh, my GOSH, that was Cory Doctorow!!! And he was wearing striped shorts!” Fortunately, the moment was silent; I prefer not to get a reputation as That Weird Girl. Well, anymore than I already have that reputation….

I love to watch Christopher Paul Curtis’ family hang out and watch him. There is such love in their eyes, and smiles on their faces.

Bookish People hug you even when you’re sweaty. I am ALWAYS sweaty here; either through nerves, or the fact that it’s 100°F here today. I am literally taking two showers a day. I am exhausted, and completely sick of the sound of my own voice.

But it is so fun being with my tribe.

I’m a little bummed this hour, since finding out my agent isn’t coming with me to this grand ALA celebration. His Dad has fallen ill, and I wish him very well, but I am sad that he’s not going to be there to rightfully bask in the glory of one of his writers receiving an award. Also: I don’t get to hide behind him. He’s not a big man, but he schmoozes much better than I do, I know. (Having never met him in person I cannot be sure of this, but then, the man does schmoozing for a living.)

Poor S.A.M. I’ll miss him.

This means that one coffee meeting has been knocked off the itinerary, giving me more time to wander through the Exhibit Hall and pick up BOOKS. I really hope we manage to keep under the weight limit on our luggage, or I’ll be at the post office before we pack up to go.

The weather forecast for D.C. states that it’ll be 95°F the day I arrive, dropping to 84° and rising again to 87° before I leave. The forecast says nothing about humidity, but I’m happy there’s nothing over a hundred, at least. And the U.S. is a country that is fond of its iced drinks. I will survive.

I saw that Sarah, Duchess of York is going to be at the ALA this year. And John Grisham. And Natalie Merchant. And AMY SEDARIS?! I keep forgetting that it’s not just for children’s lit… also, there will be comedians. SO WEIRD!

Today, I put cell phone numbers in my phone that belong to poets and writers. THAT was exciting. Yes, I’ve known these people online, but I have their phone numbers now. Yeah, yeah, I know I hate talking on the phone. It was the PRINCIPLE of the thing, all right?

Yes, I suffer from Extreme Geekdom. Deal with it.

Today’s emoticon: Getting the realization that I should really pack.

9:30 p.m.

2:35 a.m.

Summer in Scotland can be a gorgeous thing (once it stops raining). I grew up with the idea of endless summer and “California dreamin’” from the Beach Boys and whomever else covered that song, but you just have not seen “endless” until you’ve been in the far north and tried to go to bed at a reasonable time… and the sun was still up. An hour after the first picture was taken, the sun was still up – but trying to look responsible and sheepishly thinking about setting. Eventually. My friend P. in Estonia says the sun doesn’t bother even getting embarrassed about overstaying until about 11:30. Children play outside until they collapse. Good times.

Yesterday, someone asked me if I was packed, and I realized that I should probably get on that. All the lagniappe is wrapped and sitting and I have my shoes lined up… and that’s pretty much it. I’ve been advised to wear dresses because “it’s so hot.” Um… okay. The warmest it’s been here in Glasgow so far has been a toasty 73°F. Seriously.

So. If you meet someone looking lost, wearing a limp skirt, and perspiring profusely? That’s probably me.

Today’s emoticon: Sweating already.

Wow! And suddenly, I’ve just got a few days to toss things in my suitcase, hie myself to the airport, and come to D.C.!

For those of you attending the Kidlit Drink Night organized by the wonderful Sara Lewis Holmes, Susan Kusel and the other fab people from the DC Kidlit Group, have fun. My plane will be landing about the time you’ve been networking for an hour, and you’ll be leaving before I’ve collected my messages at the hotel. I’m both bummed and a tiny bit relieved; I’m sure I would love to see you all, but after a five hour flight, plus a two hour layover and before a shower? Not so much.

We will see each other around, however! I’ll be schmoozing with other YALSA authors on Monday, hanging around the Random House Booth (#2909), attending the Newbery Caldecott Award Dinner (YAY, Liz & Marla!), and otherwise doing what the folks at Random House have laid out for me.

I haven’t even really looked at who all is presenting. I just found out Gene Luen Yang is going to be there! There’s a whole TON of graphic novel people in the Green Pavilion (wherever that is) and so, so much to see!

Today’s emoticon: Slightly overwhelmed.