{fiction, instead of lies} – Page 214 – "Life itself is the proper binge." Saint Julia Child

"He peered coyly through the extraordinarily long lashes which complimented his caramel skin…"

August 9, 2007

8:00 pm

9 Comments on "He peered coyly through the extraordinarily long lashes which complimented his caramel skin…"

Via de Bond grrrl, I came across this random list of YA banalities at Joëlle Anthony’s site.
Example: from being part of the ‘red-headed stepchild’ class, red hair has risen through the ranks until apparently we all lust for it. However, it’s just not that common, except by introduction of henna or Clairol or somesuch. Yet my YA peeps? Seem to have found an endless store of flame-haired sidekicks in a back closet somewhere. Writers: Just say no.

And the über long man-lashes — hilarious, since my S.O. really DOES have inch-long lashes that might make fake lashes look tame by comparison — but yes, it’s no longer a big deal. Lads: Better lashes at times than the lasses. Usually without Max Factor. Let’s draw a veil and move on to YA quirks such as raising the eyebrow (usually the right eyebrow, since that’s the only one I can consistently raise), replacing the usage of ‘Mom and Dad’ with ‘Laura and Luke,’ and nail/lip/thumb/something biting ’til blood flows. And I’m sure you could list your own idiosyncratic YA traits from your own reading.

There are umpty million clichés in the windy city (or wherever you are – it’s pretty breezy over here today), but the one that bugged me just a bit… and then a bit more… was #14 — the ‘cafe au lait’ skin tone. The ‘coffee and cream’ complexion. The African-American-as-caffeinated-beverage cliché. Actually, it’s not even limited to African Americans – let’s say the half or whole – Pakistani- Bangladeshi- First- Nations- Hispanic- Generic- Brown- Person as caffeinated beverage.

(Note that nobody is ever listed as, say, the color of Coke? Although I have seen root beer colored eyes. Which is to say: um, brown.)

As a person of color, blogging with another person of color… writing novels wherein persons of color live and move and have their being… have I ever committed the faux pas of describing shades of skin tone as a drink? Oh, probably yes. I freely admit to having been a lazy writer in some past life. Is any of the writing where I described persons-as-drinks going to be published? Good grief, I hope not. Not because it isn’t an apt enough description — (although, if I ever see someone with skin the color of a latte, I will, in fact, call for medical assistance — a latte lacks color depth and looks rather chalky; if I see a person that shade, I’ll assume they’re about to pass out) — but because it is ultimately a lazy way of thinking, a lazy way of writing/speaking, and millimeters away from relying on racial tropes, clichés and stereotypes that reflect an unexamined inner life. As Joëlle mentioned,

“…it seems to be a way white authors have of treading lightly around skin color.
I haven’t noticed this in any books by black authors or about black people.
I notice it in books where all the characters are white and they have one latte colored friend. It’s almost like white people are afraid to call someone black. Does that make sense?”

Yes – the statement makes sense, no, it doesn’t make sense to avoid… race.

I always love Stephen Colbert’s assertion that he doesn’t see color (it’s just alarming when other people use this statement seriously, isn’t it? Do they not realize he speaks in shades of IRONY?), but the truth is that there is a school of thought which seems to require writers to embrace such a depth of PC that they can’t even use words anymore. (Not to mention the school of thought that is against actual scientific terms [Ah, scrotum], or the group that objects to sort of made-up descriptors [Happy to be Nappy? – yes, it’s a word. Yes, it has a meaning only understood by some. No, it does not threaten you or your child. Moving on.]) It’s true that we all want to be sensitive to offending people, but honestly — Susan Patron didn’t wake up one morning in the mood to offend. I doubt Holly Black or e. lockhart, or Maureen Johnson or even The Great JK just said one day, “Hey! Let’s offend the East Texas PTA this week!”

So, in a way? I feel like there’s no remedy from being offensive. And maybe we should stop trying so hard not to offend…

Others have discussed this before, referencing biracial characters, etc., and have wondered how to delicately set their feet. So, maybe let’s all agree to state that there is no need to be delicate, there is only a need for common sense and open-heartedness and a conscious willingness to “do unto others/speak about others.” We can’t avoid race. We can’t pretend that since it’s not directly affecting us that we’ve somehow transcended it, to arrive on a rarefied, colorless plain. That just doesn’t happen. So. We’ve now got to actually engage our brains and think about how we want to express that which we see (or that which we are), and ways to do it that celebrate it, embrace it, or at least don’t trivialize it and make it a lazy cliché.

Tall order.

Thanks, Joëlle, for starting the conversation.
Thoughts from anyone else?

Most Egregious Misuse and More

by Tanita S. Davis

August 9, 2007

1:01 am

2 Comments on Most Egregious Misuse and More

Most Egregious Misuse, On Writing, Random Notes and Errata

Hwy 505, just outside of Vacaville: Local Grown Peaches.
Apparently it would have killed them to add the -ly.
Oh! But there’s awesome usage news — via Bookshelves of Doom, I a.) found out about a new grammar site — and b.) discovered that they have endoresed Junie B. Jones. So huzzah – let all children rejoice – and eventually learn better grammar.

Good reporting from A.F, the social half of the group. I’m still sort of shocked that the Mirrored Disco trio didn’t win the silvery award with their blinding getup. Seriously. Did someone go Goldfinger and paint themselves?!

Via Book Moot, we may now be seeing the last Artemis Fowl. What IS it with fun series ending this year!? Why can’t they, as Hank Green sang, “last forever?”

Ooh – more books! Check out the Pay It Forward Book Exchange. Fun!

Briefly

by Tanita S. Davis

August 7, 2007

12:48 am

6 Comments on Briefly

On Writing, Random Notes and Errata

Paper Tigers has an awesome Australian author interview. (A portent of great things to come later this month!) Via the ever-fab Ya Ya Ya’s, who have amusing — and really strange — news about The Dangerous Book for Boys. And may I just join them in saying “Huh?”

“What’s In Their Backpack?” at The Edge of the Forest: Way too cute.

The Guardian’s Imogene Russell Williams bemoans the lack of anti-heroes in fiction for girls. Though I’d never heard of the character she mentioned (Flossie Teacakes?!), I doubt we’re suffering from a surfeit of sweetness in the kidlit world. Weren’t people just complaining about our girl Junie B? Has this woman never met Ramona Quimby?

I think it’s possible that the writer may not have read a children’s book since sometime in the eighties… when she was a child? (Or else there really is very little cross-over between here and the UK?!) A few people responded to this post, but I know we can come up with more than a few novels which don’t feature sickeningly sweet girls – or even girls who long to be eighteen. My list begins with Flora Segunda, how about yours?

What We Said About You, II

by Tanita S. Davis

August 6, 2007

4:45 pm

13 Comments on What We Said About You, II

Happenings, On Writing

You may have been surprised at what we said at our Conference chat, but you probably would not have been. We talked about… you.

We mentioned all the great stuff you do — from Poetry Fridays to 48 Hour Book Challenge to the 7 Imp’s weekend 7 Kicks, to La Bloga’s multifacted multicultural book coverage to the Longstocking’s multi-talented offerings, to the YaYaYa’s library-centric themes, to the Chicago Kidlit Conference and onward. We talked about the Carnival of Children’s Literature, WBBT, SBBT, Wicked Cool Overlooked Books, the One Shot World Tour (Best Read With Vegemite!) and more. We talked about your sites, your passion for picture books, your secret plans to take over the kidlitosphere (Oops. Did we say that one out loud?), and your place in the world of book reviews (Exactly where you want to be – wherever that is. Front and center, a little to the left the side, wherever.).

We asked a few questions (not enough, as it turns out) of our small audience, and found that a few of them blog (yes! The very sweet and friendly and down-to-earth Cynthia Leitich Smith was in the houuuuse! And Tamora Pierce. Still gobsmacked about that. Still.) and many more want to get into blogging for whatever reason – to promote their books or to interact with authors — but they haven’t figured out how. We issued a genial invitation that some of them just might take up… or not. Do expect people to drop by and say hello and say they heard about you at SCBWI. Especially if you do author interviews (which seem to be a big draw), were involved with the Cybils, or if you’re involved with The Edge of the Forest (And pssst! Don’t miss the latest issue!).

We did not talk much about our own blogs — those weren’t the point. We had screen shots of …yours (quite nice ones, too. I’ll send you the slideshow if you ask nicely) and in the sliver of time and space we had – (We wish we’d had so much more time to show all of your blogs! And then again… an hour seemed eternity…) – we put you on display. We had only one hour and fifty-four slides (with this fabulous chalkboard background Gina cooked up for us) but we represented you, quoted you, displayed you and praised you as much as possible.

As one woman asked, “What do you people get out of this?”
Um. Nothing. And everything.

People — you are flippin’ awesome.
And what you do for books, YA lit, and the kidlitosphere? Ditto.

Wicked Cool Overlooked Books: Betsy Byars and the Summer of YA

by Tanita S. Davis

August 6, 2007

2:02 pm

4 Comments on Wicked Cool Overlooked Books: Betsy Byars and the Summer of YA

On Writing, Wicked Cool Overlooked Books

The book, by the time I read it, was probably eleven years old. There had been reams of other YA novels printed, awards awarded, and the author had gone on to many other things.

You have to understand how it was, though. Books — fiction books — were for me the rarest gold. I grew up without fairytales, without science fiction (with the notable exception of the original Star Trek reruns on TV. When we were allowed to watch TV.), and certainly without a concept of fiction directed towards my age group. Unless it was a Reader’s Digest Condensed Book, or a sort of Guidepost/Chicken Soup/missionary story, I had to find it at school. Of course, at school, there was tons of great non-fiction (Molly Pitcher: Girl Patriot,
copyright 1952 was a favorite), but I never had as much time for curling up and reading plain old stories – wildly fictional, partially true, entirely ridiculous – as I wanted. So, it was with considerable jealousy that I regarded my cousin, Dee Dee.

Three years younger than me, and the girl had everything. I remember it was at a family function — there were radio-controlled cars, lots of relatives talking and laughing, and the kids all underfoot. I was bored, and eeled my way under a low closet rail in my cousin’s gaping closet, where I sat, hidden, and cranky. I looked around at the surfeit of …frippery that had exploded everywhere, and I found, on the floor, bent and discarded, a paperback book.

It was short. It had a yellowy-greenish sticker on it, which I ignored, and the cover had a picture of a girl, and a little boy, and a massive bird which arched up like a bridge behind them. I opened to the first page, and read.

Somewhere in West Virginia, there was a girl with orange sneakers who hated her ugly this-is-what-we-can-afford shoes, and thought her dad hated her: just like me. I was almost ten.

I considered stealing that book. My father bellowed up the stairs for me, and I had only read the first few chapters. Sara Godfrey’s hair wasn’t looking good, but something worse was going on — Charlie thought he’d heard the swans, and had left the house to go after them. Charlie was “retarded,” which is the word the book used. I was worried sick, and it was time to go. Indecision! I stood with the book in my hand, and my cousin bounced in.

“Is this your book?” I asked her faintly, trying to summon a feeling of apology.

“Oh, Mom bought that. You want it? You can have it,” she said with the cheerful disregard of someone whose mother bought them books all the time. (This is not to say my mother did not. We just didn’t have money for books. We went to the library, and were steered toward non-fiction… and Snoopy, God bless him. I think I’ve read every Peanuts book that exists.)

I probably should have double-checked with an adult, but that wasn’t going to happen. I tucked it under my shirt, into my waistband, crossed my arms, and went home. I fell in love with Betsy Byars and The Summer of the Swans. I read that paperback until it disintegrated.

“A picture came into her mind of the laughing, curly-headed man with the broken tooth in the photograph album, and she suddenly saw life as a series of huge, uneven steps, and she saw herself on the steps, standing motionless in her prison shirt, and she had just taken an enormous step up out of the shadows, and she was standing, waiting, and there were other steps in front of her, so that she could go as high as the sky, and she saw Charlie on a flight of small difficult steps, and her father down at the bottom of some steps, just sitting and not trying to go further. She saw everyone she knew on those blinding white steps, and for a moment everything was clearer than it had ever been.”

The Newberry Project describes the book’s illustrations and references as a little dated, but the story itself as “timeless.” And yes – that yellowy green “sticker” was the Newberry Medal, which I disregarded entirely. This book was the very first YA novel I ever read — and there were many years after in which I dutifully read what well-meaning and ennobling, character-building, intelligence-expanding, and perfectly good nonfiction that was put before me (and it was perfectly good, and I enjoyed it… but you always want what you are told you can’t have, don’t you?), but this was — the first feast that led to me sniffing after other book crumbs, other ‘truths’ that existed devoid of the rigid structure of fact.

What was your first? Do you remember?

Stay tuned for more Wicked Cool Overlooked Books (now with zombies and hillbillies!) around the kidlitosphere!

Ten Five Things I Wish We'd Had Time to Cover at SCBWI

by Tanita S. Davis

August 5, 2007

3:00 pm

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Literary Life Observations, On Writing, Soapbox

Five…four…three…two…one. Anonymity.

Sadly (and yet…) I have to leave the Conference today. No more name tags on a lanyard around my neck to make me cringe as people bend to study them (or, worse, for me to forget, and then wander around Beverly Hills advertising my name like a dork), and no more of the word ‘Faculty’ reminding me that I should be more helpful and assist people in finding their conference rooms (okay, I’d do that anyway, but this time people actually looked to me. Which was sad, since I actually walked into a dead-end hallway trying to find an exit. Twice.). Probably the nicest thing about being a screen name instead of a real-life person will be the lack of cameras (ahem). I hate to leave early, because there’s still so much great stuff, but final revisions for my next novel (!!!!) — and preparing for a massive garage sale — beckon.

Since the haze of horror from actually having to speak in public is somewhat fading, I’ve been analyzing what we said — and what I dearly wished we’d had a chance to cover… and cover again… and cover again… and repeat (but it was only an hour, thankfully… and alas). These are a few points I would wish anyone wanting to know about the kidlitosphere blogworld to ponder:

1.) There is a difference between we bloggers who are writers, and bloggers who are readers and reviewers and book ‘recommenders’ – and a difference between booksellers and librarians and parents and teachers. We have different points of view. We introduced ourselves to indicate to you where we came from in our different walks of life. We are not all the same. There is, however, a similarity as well. We. All. Love. Books. That’s why the kidlit blogosphere exists.

2.) Our talk was not about what blogging could do for you. Our talk was about what blogging and the kidlitosphere has done for us. There is still time to attend a session by C.L. Smith (or Roxyanne Young or any of the people who list blogging and finance together) and get more of the other angle. Check your Conference schedule.

3.) Our talk was not a how-to of blogging, and we’re really sorry if people came to our presentation expecting a network lesson. Do a search on ‘how to blog’ or check blogger.com for step-by-step details to create your own. We learned by trial and error — we firmly believe that you can, too.

4.) We never intended to provide marketing assistance to any one population (we’re lookin’ at YOU, Oz.). We do not presume to have read all the books in the world, including yours, so any confrontational accusation that we haven’t reviewed your book? Means… nothing. We still might not review your book. We don’t run a review service. However. Many bloggers in the kidlitosphere are contacted regularly by publishers and have books sent to them. We love books, and we’re always happy to get more. This does not constitute any kind of agreement to review your book, advertise for you, or … anything, really. Which leads me to another thought, which is not really a point, but more of a soapbox rant from observing some weird interactions yesterday, so we won’t count it:

(Aside:) Blogging is a largely anonymous pursuit. As the moon only shows one face, so do you only know one facet of any blogger you ‘think’ you know. For instance, Nerdfighter you may know yourself to be, you do not know John Green. Cult of Castellucci? I’m all over it. But you won’t see me running up to the poor woman and flinging myself at her. I’m just sayin’.

5.) Our corner of the kidlitosphere is more about dialoguing about children’s literature, because that is our area of interest to us, than it is about any particular aspect of our professional careers – developing or promoting ourselves as authors. As authors, we tend to be inward looking, and focus so closely on our own work that we lose sight of the rest of our milieu. Blogging helps me, at least, balance that laser-focus with a view of other worlds, other books and styles I might not encounter, and other people.

*************

Okay, I wanted to rant for ten things? But John Green speaks on All Writing is Rewriting at 9:30, and then there’s Tamora Pierce morning workshop, so I’ll get back to this…

Ten Five Things I Wish We’d Had Time to Cover at SCBWI

by Tanita S. Davis

August 5, 2007

3:00 pm

4 Comments on Ten Five Things I Wish We’d Had Time to Cover at SCBWI

Literary Life Observations, On Writing, Soapbox

Five…four…three…two…one. Anonymity.

*************

Okay, I wanted to rant for ten things? But John Green speaks on All Writing is Rewriting at 9:30, and then there’s Tamora Pierce morning workshop, so I’ll get back to this…

Ficktion Friday: Trojan Bulls

by Tanita S. Davis

August 4, 2007

6:51 am

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Ficktion Fridays

“So, who do you think put it there?”

“I dunno, Miss Lane. It was jus’… there.”

“Seriously? You folks just …woke up this morning, and there was a bull in your pasture?”

“Yep. Dunny got wind of it a ruckus outside, started makin’ a racket, and he ran around ‘til he just about fell over. Next thing we knowed, there was a gol’danged bull in the back pasture.”

All right. Ruckus, passing out… bull.

Dear Diary:

It had seemed like an easy call. For once, Harvey sent me, with my newly minted journalism degree, out of the office to cover a call that wasn’t a City Council meeting, and I’d jumped at it. Sure, he hadn’t sent me along with a photographer, but I’d treated it like a serious story nonetheless. Putting on a touch of lipstick, I’d shrugged into my mostly wool blazer, and had driven out to the farm in my brand new leather heels. And now, here I was, jotting down notes on… a UFO call.

It was massive, a scarred rusty edifice of pitted red metal, roughly the size of a water tower. A narrow ladder – looking too rickety to be trustworthy to climb upon – led to a hatch on the head. I was assured that the police had been there, had checked things out, and that the bull was empty. There were no human footprints on the ground, only a series of scratches, which could have come from anything. The police were dismissing it as a prank.

The yokel was a total caricature of a farmer – peach-down on his cheeks, blue chambray shirt, a cowlick in his straggling gray hair. His son or his ranch hand – was this Dunny? – had remained silent so far, which wasn’t making me any more comfortable. I’d glanced his direction a few times, to gauge his reaction to the older man’s line of patter, but his face was a closed book.

Darn that Harvey. He would send me out on some stupid call like this.

“Miss? You listenin’ to me, Miss?”

“Yes. I’m listening. And is this Dunny?” I nod to the young man, glancing into his slate gray eyes.

“No, this here’s Freddie, our new hand. He came right along last night, he did, and a good thing, too. Didn’t none of the others want to go out today, after that there Dunny raised such a fuss. Was scared to death, scared like I never seen him.”

“Freddie?” I begin, feeling stupid, “Did you see or hear anything strange before… when the bull appeared in the back pasture?”

“No, ma’am.” Freddie’s voice is deep, slow and sonorous, perhaps what a bull would sound like if it spoke aloud.

“And so you saw nothing… Okay. So your information comes from… Dunny with regard to the …appearance of the bull?

A slow blink. “No, ma’am.”

“No?”

‘No, ma’am.”

Behind that slow wall of a face, it would seem that Freddie, smug in his snug white t-shirt and dirty jeans, that farm hand is … laughing at me. I feel blood suffuse my face.

“All right, I think we need to wrap up here. This Dunny? I need to speak with him. Now.”

“Dunny?” The yokel’s faded blue gaze lingers on my face in bewilderment. “Miss, Dunny can’t talk.”

I close my eyes in aggravation. “He can’t talk?”

“No, Miss. Dunny’s my redbone hound.”

Well, Diary, I snapped shut my notebook then. As my heels sank into the mud on the way back out to the car, I wondered if I was cut out to be a reporter, a real one. I wondered if journalism would ever remember the name Lois Lane…

I’m just not sure. Maybe Mom was right – and I should see if the junior college has a home economics course I can take. Who am I kidding, anyway?

The inspiration for this Ficktion piece comes from this picture taken by Flickr user Franc-tieur. More ficktion from the usual suspects at Ficktion.ning.com

Poetry Friday: Late, But Here!

by Tanita S. Davis

August 4, 2007

4:25 am

9 Comments on Poetry Friday: Late, But Here!

On Writing, Poetry Friday, Random Notes and Errata

We’re here!

SCBWI is the usual surreal collage of sights and sounds and impressions — as usual, the weekend is going too fast, and I am a little worried by the number of photographers snapping my non-photogenic self, but our presentation was mostly coherent, the slide projector didn’t break, and nobody died. Pretty good for a first year. There was high drama putting almost a thousand people in a low-ceilinged lobby against finding each other — it more of a challenge than it should have been (someday I must tell you about blogger Big A, little a’s …allegedly black outfit and turquoise sandals which never materialized…), but all’s well that ends, right? As for our presentation — We were REALLY EXCITED when Tamora Pierce dropped by to sit in on our session — it was all I could do not to point and squeal! But she asked questions about the 48 Hour Book Challenge and we hope to see her ’round the kidlitosphere soon.

Don’t miss the Guardian’s short piece on Phillip Pullman, and his recent in-depth interview in the UK Literary Review. Pullman talks about the deeper questions of religion in Lyra’s story — his follow up to His Dark Materials will be …unusual, to say the least.

And now, my short but well-loved poem for Poetry Friday. I won’t even bother linking it to everyone else’s, since it’s so late, but it is a poem best read in a laconic and mildly amused voice, the way it was first read to me.

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

— William Carlos Williams

Egregiousness Abounding in the Filthy City

by Tanita S. Davis

August 2, 2007

11:27 pm

1 Comment on Egregiousness Abounding in the Filthy City

Most Egregious Misuse, On Writing

O, waily, waily…for woe is the state of the English language from one end of my fair state to the next. Or at least from the middle to the far end. Yes, friends, Romans, compatriots — it’s time once again for that annoying English major tribute, the Most Egregious Misuse, Report!

Yesterday’s M.E.M. was spotted on Highway 101, near Gilroy. It was a professionally done sign for a fruit/veg stand that sold cherries and garlic — apparently an unbeatable combination. (Ew.) The sign read, Fresh Cherries: Get ‘um now.

Um?
So, apparently ‘them’ is now spelled thum?

I won’t dwell on that, lest I am accused yet again of unfair umbrage against cherry growers — and anyway, it it today’s M.E.M. that gives my heart the most joy. This one I found only an hour ago… at Her Britannic Majesty’s Government Consular Enquiries section, on Wilshire Blvd.. Yes. You read that correctly. In the inner offices of the King’s English, there is a sign:

Courier’s, please dial 2937 for entry.

Hah! Colonist that I am, I know how to use an apostrophe.

Kidding aside, I am thrilled to have been “dear”ed and “love”d all day by the staff at the UK Visa office here in L.A. (imagine if that happened at, say, the DMV!?), and I am done, done, done with all that paperwork (for the moment)! Now after my second shower of the day (Ah, Los Angeles — it coats the skin and clogs the pores to be sure you don’t forget where you are), I am ready to sit down and get to work on finishing up what we’re doing for tomorrow’s SCBWI presentation on blogging the kidlitosphere. ‘Having Our Say’ is the title of our presentation, and we honestly plan to do so! So many of you have blogged intelligently about not only YA books, but the publishing process, their authors, and you have recommended great titles for all kinds of populations. We are proud (and okay – I am a little nervous) to represent you. Maybe next year, YOU can represent the rest of us.

And now, to work!