This is an occasional journal about how my life affects my writing and my writing affects my life. This journal is not to be a classic blog, in other words it's not interactive. It will not have photos either. Or links. Nor do I expect to write in it every day. And I don't want to have to moderate the thing. However, if you read something here that you want to respond to, send me email (janeyolen@aol.com) and I will write back. Please say whether or not you agree to have your email quoted somewhere in "Telling the True." I like getting questions from my readers--whether you are a writer or a book fancier, a teacher, librarian, or child. Note that the order of the entries is most recent first. Entries from earlier days are archived.

July 31, 2005:

David's 68th birthday. Pat came for a short afternoon visit, laden with fresh basil, honey, and ginger cookies. We had party, at least we had ice cream cake for dinner. Heidi got it on the way home from book club with Maddison. Brandon stayed for dinner. The real present for all of us, though, was how well David seems to be doing.

Did I get any work done? A bit on the Judy O project, a bit on "Elijah", and cleaning up the desktop on my laptop once again. I also spent two hours doing updates on reviews of individual books on my website. When a writer has 270+ books, there's a LOT of updating needed to be done. Not complaining you understand, it's just an observation.

July 30, 2005:

Our routine these days--especially with Heidi and Maddison at the Cape--is fairly simple. We both sit with our laptops (or David naps) and we share tidbits from email. I make simple meals. Write in the chemo diary. We laugh at silliness in the news. Neither one of us has the energy right now for rage at the news, which is good. Though there is plenty to rage at!

I had a 20+ minute interview for a scifi radio show (their designation) based in Phoenix. It was all quite pleasant.

Worked some more on "Elijah" and got a new section done on it. Still not sure I like where it's going, but at least it is taking on steam.

Worked a lot (about four hours) on the new project with Judy O. Heidi and I will sit down and discuss it and I will turn it over to her for the next steps. When I get back from Glasgow, we will tidy it up (proposal, not finished mss. by a long shot) and send it out.

Did some more entries (mostly reviews) to the website.

Yup, a quiet day, but productive.

July 29, 2005:

A pretty good day, all things considered. Though chemo can be more difficult than radiation. It is less predictable for one. Each day brings new surprises, not all good.

We got out for a ride today, which was great, just wandering into the countryside between Northampton and Whately. Didn't see any birds or animals, but the landscape is at its lushest and we commented on the amount of new houses being built, and appreciated how well kept up the area is.

I managed some work. A bit of revision on "Elijah" and the start of the proposal for the book we are talking about with Judy O. A lot of cleaning up of desktops. And reading and commenting on the second go-round of Heidi's short story. I also read three sf magazines, looking for stories for YEARS BEST in case we resell it to another publisher. Found two possibles.

I also set up several other radio and online interviews. Some my wonderful publicist, Susan Raab, found for me. Others came on their own. Between tomorrow through Tuesday I have four.

July 28, 2005:

David had a good day. I had one, too. Bookwise, that is.

I heard that HOW DO DINOSAURS EAT THEIR FOOD has been given one of the coveted Oppenheim Toy Portfolio Awards, this time a Gold. (The first book had a Platinum which is one award higher!)

Also I finished revising STRETCHING THE TRUTH, the tall tale manuscript, and sent it off to my agent. (4 hours.) It’s very strange to revisit an old manuscript, written ten years earlier. Hard to put myself back in that mindset. Some things I liked a lot, some things needed a lot of work. I don’t know if this is because I have become a better writer in that time, or just that I fiddle more than ever.

I heard from an area youth symphony that they want to talk to me about working with them on a performance this winter. What fun! This is something I have wanted to do for some time. I wonder if they saw Heidi and me performing at the ballet, or if this is because of some discussions I had a few years ago with someone at the symphony--someone who is no longer there, I might add. Either way, I sincerely hope something comes of it. I love the mixing of media, and of course I am a performance ham!

Also I am being interviewed on Monday by Newsweek Online. I think it will take about a week to get put up on the Net.

That’s. . . .All Folks!

July 27, 2005:

A good day for David and an interesting book day for me.

First Adam called with the news that Booklist had given his novel SINGER OF SOULS a starred review, calling it "a wonderful nihilistic grunge fantasy." (I have all the right words, though they might not be in the right order.)

Then I received two FedExp packages. The first contained proofs for COUNT ME A RHYME, the book of counting poems done to Jason's gorgeous photos, I went over them carefully and sent my notes on to editor Joan Hyman by email. I thought there were a few places that were difficult to read because of the color. And one poem that could lose a verse. But overall I am very pleased with the book. 1 hour.

The second package contained sketches for BABY BEAR'S BOOKS. Illustrator Melissa Sweet is brilliant. As asked, I added a verse, changed one word elsewhere, and sent an email to editor Liz Va Doren with the changes. 1 1/2 hours.

Went over Heidi's draft of a short story and then talked to her about my notes. She ageed with all of them. 1 hour.

Made some more headway on the tall tale book. Worked on and off about three hours.

An Argentine friend came over to visit for about half an hour with David.

All in all, a good day.

Interstitial Moment:

As I was working on purging files to send material to the Kerlan Collection (we do this about two or three times a year) I discovered a letter I'd written November 1968. I thought some of it might amuse my readers:

"It suddenly occurred to me that I failed to mention that we are the first people on our block (in our corner of Western Mass., actually) to have a computer in our den. It is a teletype that hooks by phone to the large computer at the University and to David's work-computer in Boston, too. All he does is dial the phone, set it in an accoustic coupler, and we are--so to speak--plugged in. Theoretically, he could solve the world's problems now. Actually all he really does, as far as I can see, is lose to the computer at 3-dimensional tic-tac-toe and chess games. But it seems ironic that I, who am a drop-out in this mechanical age, having trouble even changing the ribbon on my typewriter, should have a live-in computer."

Ah--the more things change, the more they--obviously--have stayed the same.

July 26, 2005:

Things turned a bit ugly re health matters today and I was on the phone a lot with Nurse Sally at the oncology center. Many visits to the prescription counter, most by Heidi. Lots of worries. But by 5:30 a.m. (yep, a.m.!) everything was solved. This time.

However, in-between, Heidi found a lost folder that I had been searching for for days. One of the manuscripts that had been given back to me after ten years had recently been requested by another editor. But this was a pre-computer manuscript, meaning we HAD to find the file folder. Finally Heidi got her hands on it, and retyped the entire thing into the computer. (She was taught how to type in school. I never learned, having grown up at a time when college-bound girls did NOT learn typing. That was for the so-called Commercial Course. I still type with four fingers.) Since the manuscript is fairly short (a collection of tall tales) she got it done in one day. In-between runs to CVS. And then I started to go over it slowly, revising as I went along. Heidi had already written down dozens of little notes for me. She's a terrific editor. I figure two days and I can send it off. Though my agent is away for two weeks so there's no hurry. Always strange coming back to an old manuscript. It's like an archeological dig. You have some idea of what you will find but are always surprised.

I also worked a bit on the Elijah story, though it was going nowhere fast. I may have to just bull through to the end and then come back and fix the middle. I have some sort of idea where it's going. Not enough, but some.

July 24-25, 2005:

Textbook reactions so far to the chemo, meaning no nausea, or bone pain, but a lot of fatigue. And that's just me! David is doing as well as expected.

I am getting no writing done. But in the two days, managed: to pay bills, sort through lots of old mail, enjoy the sketches for DIMITY DUCK sent by email attachment from HarperUK, sign contracts for DIMITY, and look over the bid on the new house for Heidi.

We watched "Million Dollar Baby" till the hospital scenes became too painful for David. I saw the ending after he went to bed. Moving, but expected. I wonder why it won all those Oscars.

Maddison started theater camp.

I turned down two speaking engagements in October, and a couple of essays for two different magazines, due by the early Fall. Did more discussions with Heidi and the editor about this new as yet unmentionable project, all enjoyable. And emailed a bit with my editor friend Jonathan in Toronto on some possible books. All fun, a bit of necessary lightening.

Early days.

July 23, 2005:

So far David's reactions to the chemo are minor.He is sleeping a lot, but his spirits seem high.

Except for running to the local market for eggs and milk, I stayed at home monitoring things. "Hovering" might be a better description.

I managed to get some work done on a short story about the prophet Elijah, called "Slipping Sideways Into Eternity." As he is a magician (wizard) this may do instead of "Foiled" for the WIZARD anthology. Of course I have worked on the Elijah story through two other anthologies and finished it for neither. As I always tell people when asked for short stories for upcoming anthologies--"No promises." Though I am really more of a short form writer--poetry, picture books, stories--I can often manage to finish a novel sooner than a short story, Oh--with the exception of three novels which have each taken me almost twenty years each: STONE SILENUS, SWORD OF THE RIGHTFUL KING and the fourth Pit Dragon book (which isn't finished yet.)

Finishing things. It is what really separates the amateur writer from the professional. It is also why editors are loathe to accept a partial manuscript from someone who has never sold a book before. Can they actually finish the damned thing? That's an important question. And one even the most professional of writers have problems with on occasion (see above.) One writer friend, long dead, was a self-described hack. He could write anything anytime--and did. But then he got an idea for a really good book, an important book. He sold it on a partial for the most money he'd ever received. . .and blocked. He died before completing the book. It's one of the saddest writer stories I know.

July 22, 2005:

David began chemo and tolerated it well. As I told a friend, "He's a very tolerant guy!" Of course it's early days yet.

I'd brought my laptop and some research with me, but ended up reading "People" magazine and "Ellery Queen" and keeping all the kids in touch with what was going on. Bless cell phones and pop magazines. Hard to concentrate when one is that worried. Of course he slept through most of it!

Got my contracts for the British edition of HOW DO DINOSAURS EAT THEIR FOOD. Otherwise no book news.

July 21, 2005:

So now I am a cover girl: http://www.jewishledger.com/western_mass/

Officially, I guess, the Hans Jewish Andersen of America.

The cover photo is by my wonderful photographer son who made me look both slim and young. (Comparatively.)

I did more work on updating the website.

Otherwise, we had a fairly quiet day at home. So quiet, I forgot to get the mail. The big excitement was working back and forth in email with one of my favorite editors, developing a swell nonfiction idea for Heidi and me to do. It felt like the good old days when I could go into New York (or Boston or San Diego or at a conference) and sit with an editor and come out of a meeting with one-to-three book contracts promised. Those days are really gone forever for me. Too many pub committees and second-guessing the editor. Too much bottom line. Too many celebrity books. But this was fun and I think we will have a book after a while, one that we can all be proud of. I wish I could tell you what it's about, but not until the thing is nailed down. Just that Heidi said, “This will be the MOST fun to research of any book we've done together.”

So-no writing, but I poured the same creative excitement into putting together the idea for this book over a period of several hours of emails with a smart, caring, excited editor. Always a plus!

July 20, 2005:

I got my hair cut, David came home. Two major events.

My hair looks great, David looked a bit worn. But a nap and a good dinner fixed that up.

In-between, I worked some more on "Foiled" and decided (even after reading the next section to Maddison) that it is going in absolutely the wrong direction. So am scrapping it for a while and turning back to something else.

And there is some "probably" noise from a fine Canadian literary publisher about two picture books manuscripts. But as it is not an absolute, I will wait on both before I give an official announcement and do the happy dance. I have been in the business long enough to know how swiftly "probably" can turn into a "No!" An author I know recently had that experience with a book editor for whom she did rewrites for over a year. So nothing is a done deal until it's in a contract. And even then. . .those who know me may remember how several years ago I finally got back seven books that one editor had bought ten years earlier and never gotten illustrators for. The book business is no place for sissies.

Kathie wrote: "I am always amazed at how extremely full your life is and yet you manage to keep writing as well as socializing, doing signings, spending time with your family and friends, etc etc etc. . . .how DO you do it? Not meaning at all to be facetious--- I'm serious. Do you map out certain times of the day for certain things? Follow a relatively strict structure? Set yourself goals of a certain number of hours put into writing and writing matters each day or a certain number of words, projects, etc."

I told her: I am very focused and I love writing. For me, writing is a necessary component of my day. So I don't need to give myself absolute goals--of hours or pages, though I know successful authors (including son Adam) who do just that. However, sometimes I have to give myself permission to relax, to NOT write; or give myself permission NOT to beat myself up when I'm not writing.

She also asked: "Though you most often mention Maddison, if I remember correctly, Heidi has a BUNCH of kids? How do you EVER do what you do and get anything done with young children around? Do you set boundaries with the kids as to when you can and can't be disturbed? Have ANY quiet time? etc."

Ah—I see the mistake. I have three children who each have two children apiece. Heidi has two daughters. One is a 22-year-old who is usually in college and this summer is working in Hawaii. But it is true that when Maddison is not in school (and she's going to theater camp for two weeks starting next week, which will give her mother some writing time) she is quite a presence. The other day, as I worked on "Foiled" she was a great help. But she knows--as my kids knew--that if I am writing, she must find things to do in a different room. The joke in our family was always: don’t disturb Mommy unless you are bleeding from an important orifice! That said, I was a stay-at-home work-at-home mom, so was always there for the kids. My work room—and my supplies—were sacrosanct. My time, however, was always pretty flexible.

July 19, 2005:

So I got up, did my exercises, got dressed, came downstairs, and worked on the next section of "Foiled"--some 534 words. When Maddison came downstairs, I read it to her.

"Where's the rest of it?" she asked. I nearly crowned her!

She got down her fencing bag and took everything out and we looked over all the various items. I tried on the mask to find out what it looked like to see through the dark mesh. She made sure my heroine's bag had all the right equipment.

Then she and her Mom went out on errands and I worked on email.Too many people discussing Harry Potter.

I had my writer's group over and though nothing was read, it was still good to meet. Heidi and Maddison came home in the middle of it and just gave a quick hello to all, then disappeared upstairs where they were working on the Aerie, my upstairs writing room. It has, alas, gotten itself into a terrible mess, most of it due to my inability to lean over and pick stuff up off the floor. (Bad back, not an emotional inability.)

Fielded a couple of phone calls from old friends of David's and mine about his upcoming treatment. Did some more work on "Foiled"--another 225 words. The count is at: 2566, but I have to stop now and figure out where the story is REALLY going. I know there's magic, a wizard--but not why or how it all gets put together. However, I have been at this long enough to know things will work out--only not necessarily WHEN I want or HOW I want.

Book news: One picture book turned down with a note that said, "Not up to Yolen's usual ouevre." I heard from my foreign rights agent that BRIAR ROSE has sold to a Hungarian publisher. My first Hungarian book sale, though not my first works in Hungarian since I have had several short stories in a magazine called "Galaktika."

Tracked more reviews of books to put into the blurbs.

We had dinner with the DiTerlizzi's and Angela, who reads this journal, wanted me to be sure to say that she was her usual brilliant and charming self. Which she was! I got a peek at their studio bathroom where Brent Helquist had drawn a lifesize Count Olaf holding a plunger on the wall. I must say that as one sits on the toilet, the Count is watching with evil interest and it is Very Disconcerting.

.

July 18, 2005:

Before getting out of bed, I read some more of Kate Wilhelm's STORYTELLER. When I read a section about getting tangled in backstory, and how her students needed help visualizing, I had a sudden insight into my problem with the new dragon book. I am so absorbed in the backstory and the old visualizations, I have stopped myself from moving forward into new territory. Now that I have that insight, what do I do with it?

The morning was consumed by little errands. I didn't get back until past noon. Though I did have a short tea break with dear Jane Dyer, my illustrator friend. Next I had two appointments to set up, one for me and one for David, a bill to contest (25 minute on hold and then speaking to someone whose accent was almost unparsable but at last they erased the charge.)

Then I did a bit more work on "Foiled" finally getting to the section where the magic will be occurring.

Got two great reviews (well actually three, but two of them by two different reviewers in the same place) for YEARS BEST SF & FANTASY FOR TEENS. One review was in the LA Times, the other two in Chronicle, which is a science fiction journal. Predictably, all three reviewers spoke about how much they look forward to the continuation of the series. Sigh.

The LA Times (a full page by the way, which LA writer friends tell me rarely happens with kids books) ends this way: "<D>on't mistake the lack of self-awareness — notorious among teens — with pat or perfunctory storytelling. Few of the stories in "The Year's Best Science Fiction and Fantasy for Teens" wrap their endings in a big, happily-ever-after bow, which makes the characters more likely to live on in the dark imaginings of the reader. It's heartening to read works that, at the very least, don't pander and that firmly relegate childhood certainties to the attic with outgrown jammies and abandoned Lego sets. It should only happen more often."

Will Shetterly wrote this in his blog: "I will be hating writing for at least another week, when the next draft may be done." Oh my! It made me laugh and cry at the same time. And jealous. I wish I was at the hating part. I am at the scratching in the sand trying to make sense of it part. Writing is sometimes hen-scratching and sometimes water-over-stones with everything flowing. I prefer the latter.

I had dinner out (traveling through a thunderstorm) with my friends Leslea and Mary. And on my return, there were Heidi and Maddison. I let Maddison read the opening parts of "Foiled" since she has to be my research partner on all things fencing and now she is nudging me to finish the story. Good news--and bad.

July 17, 2005:

This was a day of cultural dissonances.

I worked on "Foiled" by revising and adding another 200 words, and watched the British Open at the same time.

Then I read my first ever Janet Evanovich mystery because it was sitting around (Heidi is a big fan) while at the same time watching the BBC's "North and South," a Victorian tearjerker.

Next I read HARRY POTTER spoilers so I didn't have to read the book. (I'd stopped at Book 4, tired of all the extra verbiage and the overuse of adverbs and the hype.)

I thought about going out to an Emily Dickinson reading at the Homestead, but the heat kept me in, even though this much air conditioning gives me clogged ears. Instead I watched "Angel" on the tv, a new guilty pleasure.

Yup, a day full of divided cultural loyalties.

July 16, 2005:

Aha! I figured out that "Foiled" is really a short story, not a novel. Thank goodness. In fact I think it's going to be a short story for a wizard anthology I promised to write (by November 1!) Now that I knew that, I wrote another 650 words (3 hours work) and totally revised the first section as well. The whole thing so far is 1493 words. A good solid start. Should end up being between 3-7,000 words.

Watched the British Open since it was too hot and humid to spend much time out. (Though I did walk to the Post Office early on.) I'm hoping that it remains close, though I'm pretty sure that Tiger will win. But keeping it close means it's more exciting.

After the Open and after some writing, I watched the Lemony Snicket movie even though I did not particularly like the books and am not a Jim Carrey fan. I had trouble figuring out the era of the film, since the characters were dressed in turn of the century clothes, Scrabble was produced in 1948 (there’s a Scrabble set that Sunny has chewed on at the beginning) the cars all seem to be 1950s vintage (though the automated locking devices would come nearly fifty years later), and the Carrey/Olaf dialogue includes much modern phraseology. I guess. I suppose the movie-makers meant the anachroisms to be amusing. Another instance of my being out of synch with popular culture, like the Harry Potter phenomenon.

July 15, 2005:

Heidi and Maddison went off before 7:30 for a trip to the Cape that is part pleasure (staying with friends) and part work (research for a picture book.) I am reveling in the quiet house.

Began the day by working on putting reviews onto the website. Now that I know how, I don’t have to place that enormous burden on David’s shoulders. This is not a time for him to be guilt-ridden about being behind on my silly projects.

And then just as I was really starting the writing day, the cleaning lady arrived. Sigh. So I continued to work on website stuff. And that grew into a day of it.

(Meanwhile, I kept an eye on the British open in case I should spot David and Adam—but no luck.)

A writer I know mused online that "A good editor is worth six months," which I took to mean that a good editor saves you six months of mulling and stewing. I have never understood Famous Writers who eschew editorial help. The most vocal about this recently was Anne Rice who declared in public that she wouldn't let any editor touch her sacred prose. Lord knows, I can always use the help, that second eye, that slightly detached critical mind. As the author of a piece, one gets too close to the words and not far enough away from the story. Insert any woods/trees metaphor you want here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I battle (and lose) the plot of the fourth Pit Dragon book. Which is why I am taking son Adam up on his offer to read and Find Mom A Plot. Even if he doesn't actually find one for me, he will be kicking the bushes in a different way. And out--I hope--will fly that pesky plot. (Ever notice how metaphors get away from you when you least expect them to?) He will be an early editorial eye on the book, for which I will be extremely grateful. Whether he saves me six months or six years, his input will be of enormous help.

I also got a note from another Jane. First she quoted from something I had just written in the journal: "The editor had some other ideas and things he’d be interested in seeing from me. Actually, I really want an editor to want something I’ve ALREADY written, thank you! But publishing is getting to be more and more like a world of short-order cooking when one has been trained as a chef de cuisine."

Other Jane then asked: "So, what I want to know is, just how far do we go with this? Doesn’t this made-to-order writing take some of the ART out of the writing? Of course, publishers cannot actually get into our minds and pull the words out they want, but is the line getting finer?"

This is what I answered, somewhat enlarged for the journal: I think all the arts wrestle with this problem, see-sawing between true art and commerce. Emily Dickinsion wrote "Publication--is the Auction Of the Mind of Man" but in fact she'd been desperate to get her poems published at the beginning. And when it got too difficult, she wrote that line. Apologia as a strong defense after rejection.

I have no answer actually. I navigate that narrow straight in a leaky canoe every day of my life! Another metaphor that is threatening to send us all over the nearest waterfall. And me without my life jacket.

July 14, 2005:

Maddison and I had a “date” and spent four hours wandering around Northampton, going to the bead store, to the A to Z kids science and learning store, to the Coffee Gallery (for chocolate) etc. We had lunch out, and then decided we were too exhausted by the heat to go on to the Smith Museum.

Adam agreed to read DRAGON'S BLOOD and give me some plot ideas. Or at least discuss story arc with me. Hurrah.

Editors Neil Williamson and Andrew Wilson sent on a jpeg of the cover for NOVA SCOTIA which is very handsome, not science fictional at all but rather an interesting aerial view of Scotland with the color manipulated. The subtitle of the book is "New Scottish Speculative Fiction." There are five names on the front cover---four men and me, which is interestingly about the percentage breakdown of authors by gender in the book. (At least as far as I can tell by the names.)

I watched some of the British Open looking for David and Adam and crew in the crowd, but no luck, Only golfers! Turns out they, weren't where I was looking. Figures.

I am getting some unexpected royalties this week, and a contract for a braided novel in which I will be writing a chapter. This is more in the way of a gag or a writerly game for which I will be paid (very little!)

Suddenly, in the late afternoon, for no reason, I found myself writing another 379 words on FOILED. A bizarre thing to do since I have not a clue what the book is about, except fencing, though the narrator's character is becoming clearer. Now understand, I have two novels under contract that must be written in the next year--DRAGON'S HEART and BURD JENNET (a Tam Lin story.) I have three novels that each have between 4 and 10 chapters already done, for which I know the complete arc of the story: ARCH OF BONE, THE ANGEL OF HADLEY, and MANY MANSIONS. I have another four or five that have a couple of chapters or a synopsis ready: BIG UGLY GUY with Adam (the third Rock 'n Roll Fairy Tale), SEELIE WARS with Adam (a trilogy), THE GHOUL SCHOOL KIDS with Heidi (very young chapter book), FRUITLANDS, GOBLIN MARKET (an adult book), and the desire to turn the novelette “Except the Queen” into an adult novel with co-writer Midori Snyder, and the novella DRAGONFIELD into a graphic novel. So the last thing I want to do is to start work on a new novel. But when a character starts yelling in my ear, I always listen. The Muse may walk away in her Indian print chiffon dress and solid Birkenstocks, her mouth a thin line of annoyance, if I don't pay attention. Walk away and not come back again. So I write the 379 words. One never knows!

We ended the evening sitting on a neighbo'rs porch with wine and sparkling water, discussing families, odd people from our pasts, worrying about our hostess' stepfather who'd just twenty minutes earlier had a bad fall, all the while waiting for the call from the hospital. Then a passing skunk convinced me to go home where I reveled in the air conditioning. And so to bed.

July 13, 2005:

This was to be a big writing day. David gone, safely ensconced for the week in Scotland. Maddison off with her dad. Heidi upstairs working reorganizing the attic.

Only it didn’t quite work out that way. Brandon didn’t get up until late. Then he and Maddison played dominoes loudly in the kitchen near where I was trying to organize my thoughts. Then Glendon’s boyfriend and his friend showed up and wanted to chat. Then Brandon and Maddison decided to hang around longer. Then the phone rang scheduling David’s chemo for a week from Friday. Then Heidi came downstairs to eat lunch. Then the boys left, Brandon and Maddison went into David's study to watch a movie, and at last I started to work on DRAGON’S HEART—and the phone rang.

It was my agent—two picture books turned down even though the editor LOOOOVED them because "Too many notes Herr Mozart." Everyone is looking for picture books with fewer and fewer words. What’s a writer to do? Agent and I discussed strategy. (We do a lot of that these days.) The editor had some other ideas and things he’d be interested in seeing from me. Actually, I really want an editor to want something I’ve ALREADY written, thank you! But publishing is getting to be more and more like a world of short-order cooking when one has been trained as a chef de cuisine. However, some of what he wanted I already have, so she’s shipping him off more stuff and we will talk again. And strategize some more soon, I’m sure.

I did get to go over two of the EMILY SONNETS in the midst of all the above chaos., fiddling with one and totally rewriting the one I hated. It’s on the right track now, I think, though far from finished. Then a new opening page of a new novel I may never write (called FOILED) popped into my head. So I got that down, put it in its own file, and left it alone.

I turned again (and at last, again) to DRAGON’S HEART. I may have to go somewhere else to get my writing done. Another country. Another world.

This is why we have been spending most summers in Scotland.

But I got a good three hours at last, 2 chapters revised. And I think they are in pretty final shape. Until I decide I have started the book in the wrong place. (This has happened once already with DRAGON’S HEART.) It would be nice if I could move past the ten chapters already written, but that would mean a plot had suddenly emerged, landed in my lap, or floated out through my fingertips.

Am I whining a lot? You betcha! It's part of being a writer.

Had a wonderful dinner at my friend Zane Kotker’s house. Zane is both a novelist and nonfiction writer. I think my favorite of her books is WHITE RISING, a novel of the King Philip Indian wars. We discussed families (our children grew up together), the state of publishing, publishing divas—like Margaret Atwood and Cynthia Ozick, which we had personal knowledge of—and sat out on her screened porch still talking as the dark closed around us and the fireflies came out to dance in her garden.

I came back to find this lovely mention from critic Jonathan Strahan in his blog: "I've taken a look at a couple stories from Nova Scotia, which I think should be out for the Scottish worldcon. Jane Yolen has a really top-notch fantasy novelette in the book, "A Knot of Toads", which has a really wonderful and dark sense of place, all built around what feels like a fairytale kind of story. . ." Ah--to be noticed and appreciated all in a single sentence (with two "reallys!)

That led me to bed with a smile. I read a chapter from Kate Wilhelm's book about writing, STORYTELLER, mostly how she and husband Damon Knight helped set up the Clarion workshops.

July 12, 2005:

What a way to start the day. Our neighbors called to say the bobcat and kits were out playing in the field again. David left his boiling water (I turned it off) and I ran upstairs to get dressed, then met him at the neighbors' house.

And then we saw her--this gorgeous, well-muscled, well-fed, sinewy presence, black tufted ears alert, playing with her kits. Every now and then, she would turn her head to check us out. As we were about a hundred feet away and not moving except to use the field glasses, we weren't an immediate threat. We must have watched for twenty minutes. To see that bit of the real Wild so close was as if we had touched the Old Magic.

Around 11, I drove David to the airport and he was off to Edinburgh and then St Andrews, to spend the next few days at the Old Course, watching the British Open. Since we do not know what will happen over the next months and years--prognosticating chemo results is as much ouija board as science, as much magic thinking as medicine-- we will remain in Carpe Diem! mode.

I came back the long way since we'd seen major roadwork causing gridlock in the Springfield area, and went directly to my writer's group. Showed them my new baby--er book--ONCE UPON A TIME (SHE SAID). Many ohs and aahs, which is always nice.

Then home to discover an email from a Telling the True reader named Jen who asked a lot of agent questions. This is as good a time as any to answer them all at once:

"You are prolific. Does your agent represent everything you write? Just book manuscripts? Or do you sometimes send work directly to editors and publishers yourself?"

It all depends, Jen, on the kind of agent one has. Some agents only handle children's books, some only handle adult books, hardly anyone handles poetry (at least individual adult poems), or short stories any more. However, my wonderful agent handles everything except my adult poems going to literary journals for which I get no money at all. Her agency also handles movies, foreign sales, theater performances--and when I do a voice-over for one of my audio books, they handle that, too. Did you know that in that instance I am called "the Talent" though of course my real talent is writing.

"Does your agent ever refuse to submit something you've written? If she did, and you saw value in the work, would you submit it yourself?"

My agent will sometimes point out flaws in a piece, and we always discuss possible editors. Occasionally I will send something on ahead to an editor who is waiting to see it because we discussed it at lunch or in an email (with a copy to my agent.) But my agent handles the piece if it comes back, and handles the contract if it sells.
Sometimes we both agree to set something aside for a while. I have 24 unsold picture book manuscripts and that's too many to have circulating. So we chose the 5 or 6 we thought should have the best chance in today's market.

"Do you believe it would send a bad message to a publisher for an unknown unagented writer to submit work on her own?"

Send a bad message to whom? Unagented unknown authors are being published all the time--if they have an interesting tale to tell (and especially if they have a marvelous backstory to help sell the book, like writing the book as a single mother on the dole and sitting in a coffee house with the baby in a basket by your feet, or being a 15-year-old writer with a penchant for a large Musketeer hat adorned with a big feather who self-publishes his book. Unagented unknowns will often have a harder time finding an agent than an editor.

However, this being said, you need to do your homework, not once but twice. There are many publishing houses no longer open to unagented writers. If all the publishers you like best fall into that category, perhaps you should spend your first year finding an agent.

"Next, I believe it is more difficult to be the first person to go out on a limb and proclaim some work of art (music, literature, whatever) 'good.' It's risky. What if no one agrees? Do you feel that editors are more likely to read agented manuscripts with an open mind and optimism because they have already been declared 'good' by an industry insider? It's much easier to second a motion, than to make it."

People who believe that keep sending me manuscripts. And wanting blurbs in the hopes that will sell their manuscripts to an editor. I don't do those kind of blurbs. I only blurb books sent to me by publishers, books they are already committed to bringing out. And even then I am parsimonious with my praise. I am not alone in this. Most writers whose names could help are too busy with their own work (and their own lives.) Let the manuscript sell itself.

"Finally, does your agent negotiate contracts and receive compensation for things you market and/or sell on your own? For instance, any short stories and magazine/anthology work that might be requested from you."

I don't sell anything on my own. I turn everything over to my agent and let her do ALL the business stuff. You see, I am a marshmallow when it comes to business dealings. I am always so delighted to sell anything, I'd give it away for free. (Shhhh! Don't let the editors know.) That's why I have a hard-nosed agent. The old stories tell us that the great Russian witch Baba Yaga had an iron nose. Well, my agent's nose is adamantine!

I ended the day reading Vivian Vande Velde's charming THREE GOOD DEEDS, a short chapter book full of Vivian's patented humor cum morality play style, with an ending that surprised me. And in this genre I am hard to surprise!

Also, we got the bid for the house from the builder. It is certainly doable. Will wait for the paperwork and go over it carefully before giving him the final okay. But we are pleased.

Book news: No writing done, but I had a poem accepted into an anthology for boys, a poem called "Going for Gold."

July 11, 2005:

Our next door neighbors called--the bobcat is back, and with two kits. So we ran out to catch a glimpse, but they were already gone to ground. Instead we took a long walk around their wooded eight acres which they have made into a truly lovely sanctuary. I must go back on my own. What a perfect gathering place. Who knew!!!

Back home, I worked some more on the latest Emily poem which I like least of all the sonnets so far. And I fiddled a bit with MAMA, CAN I HELP? It is still a long way from good enough which is much too far from perfect. I may never get it to where I want it to go out again.

What I have never quite understood about writing is this: an author's relationship to the work in progress. Sometimes it seems promising, sometimes brilliant, sometimes just plain stupid. And that may be the same piece on alternate days. This is not a reaction by the self-critic who dwells inside. Well, at least not entirely. We read from a personal perspective that moves the goalposts by the day. Hell, by the moment.

In St Andrews, I once told a friend that here in New England we say of the weather, "If you don't like it, wait half an hour." And he replied, "In Scotland we say the weather changes on yer backswing." One's own writing is like that--your perception of its worth changes on yer backswing.

About David's health. We went to the oncologist today to set the chemo schedule. He gave David permission to fly off for a week to St Andrews for the British Open (Carpe diem! is David's personal motto.) He will start chemo next Thursday or Friday. I won't be going with him on this trip, but Adam and his family will be there and Betsy is a nurse, so he won't be alone or without (professional) caring adults. And two loving grandkids for that special touch.

July 10, 2005:

A quiet day. Heidi and Maddison were still off on the Cape with friends.

I began reading Aaron Lansky's brilliant OUTWITTING HISTORY, about setting up the Yiddish Book Center, went for a walk along the Connecticut River with David, worked on a new Emily Dickinson sonnet (very rough) and caught up on mail. Our friend Jan came over for a long chat.

And Adam called-to say he sold his second adult novel, a sequel to the first. Evidently our agent never sleeps as this is a Sunday! So we did the happy dance in the kitchen.

July 9, 2005:

As soon as the Budney's left (and Regina, our cleaning lady. showed up) David and I went off on a serendipity trip of our own into Vermont, going on back roads, many of which I had never been on before. The scenery was gorgeous, lushly green and full of fascinating old houses (some in need of a lot of love) side-by-side with trailer trash. The various rivers--the Black, the White, etc. were aching to be fished. David said that if health allowed next spring, he'd like to be back to try them out. Good trout rivers.

We found a very bad outdoor antique-and-flea-market just in time for stretching our legs. I managed to get something from the one good stall, a lovely inlaid wooden cheese board. I have been looking for one for some time.

Some time later, we stopped at a small antique store where we bought a William Morris book. After we discussed art pottery and the Arts & Crafts movement with the proprietor, she told us not to miss the Charles Shackleton/Miranda Thomas showroom just about a hundred yards away in an old mill shop. Miranda herself gave us a wonderful half-hour tour of the place. We bought four pots for Christmas (one for David and one for each of the kids)and faunched after some of Charles' gorgeous furniture. One of Miranda's pots had been commissioned by Bill Clinton as a present for Pope John II.

Then we went on to Woodstock where we wandered the town, had lunch, signed books at the bookstore (where the owner gave me a huge hug, crying, "You're Jane Yolen!" (always a plus in my book.) We bought a lovely pink outfit for granddaughter Alison whose birthday is the same day David arrives in Scotland next week. (Adam and crew will be there to greet him.)

We found the new digs for VINS (Vermont Institute of Natural Science), one of our favorite organizations. Since it was a Saturday, none of David's researcher friends were around, so we spent some time in the shop, bought more presents for Alison and her brother David (so he won't feel left out) and signed the one copy of OWL MOON they had. Though they declared they have a hard time keeping the book in stock and had just that week ordered ten more from the Penguin/Putnam rep.

We ended our trip with a visit to a nearby antiques mall. It was fun looking at stuff, though nothing really tempted us. And then we drove home, an almost 2 hour trip straight down route 91.

All in all, a fine gathering day.

July 8, 2005:

Another visitor day.

No sooner had Heidi and Maddison gone out the door than my cousins Dani and Jack Lochhead, and Mike and Laura Garrick showed up. Though Dani and Jack live close by in Conway and we see them at least several times a year (mostly at parties at their house or ours) we hadn't seen cousin Mike and his wife (he's Dani's brother) in almost ten years. Mike is the "Michael" in my picture book ALL THOSE SECRETS OF THE WORLD as well as mentioned in two of my short stories about living in Virginia. Mike is a professor of biochemistry at the University of Buffalo. Since Jack is now a Conway selectman (where we lived for 2 1/2 years some 30+ years ago) that occasioned some laughs.

After they left, we had a few hours before the next round of guests arrived--Greg Budney and his wife and baby came for supper and overnight. He is curator of the Library of Natural Sounds at Cornell University which is the repository of David's birdsong recordings. In fact one of David's recordings may be used in the latest HARRY POTTER movie. The Budneys were delightful guests and after dinner, David and Greg went into his office to discuss David's recent recordings while Greg's wife and I played with baby Rory until it was his bedtime--and mine!

Writing? None done.

Reading? I was getting the house in order.

Book news? I had a royalty check of $180. Wahoo. And the PIRATE QUEENS editor says all is well and the mss. will be going to copyediting. Whew. (And Bruce Coville wrote to me about a musical someone is about to bring to Broadway about the life of Irish pirate queen Grania O'Malley, starring a well known male singer.)

July 7, 2005:

So the MacMahon family left (0nly to return 20 minutes later as they had gone off with my car/house/PO box keys!) Thank God for cell phones.

And then our next guests arrived--David's brother Bob and wife Ionia. Though Bob had visited us on a lightning trip about 20 years ago, Ionia had never been to the house. (We have been a number of times to their West Virginia home.) They were coming from seeing their son and family in Canada and on their way back to WVa.We had a lovely visit, and Heidi made a spectacular dinner. But they had to leave right after dinner as they had to get a good start on their return.

So I went off to hear Kelly Link read at a local bookstore. Then Kelly, Gavin Grant, Holly Black and friend, and I went out for drinks after.Told many black bear stories as Kelly and Kevin had a recent bear encounter in their yard.

Oh yes--my newest baby arrived and she is beautiful. NESFA Press (a small New England specialty press) has brought out ONCE UPON A TIME, SHE SAID--a compendium of 80 short stories, poems (some new) and essays of mine especially for the World Con Science Fiction Convention in Glasgow. It has an intro by Ann McCaffrey and a gorgeous (I mean GORGEOUS!!) painting by Ruth Sanderson for the cover. Goth meets romance, girl in black reading a book, lots of flowing black hair.

And I mention this because it may be hard to discover anywhere. But it's beautiful and it's mine.

July 5-6, 2005:

The latest news from the doctor is more hopeful. Chemo is indicated. David got permission to spend a week (the operative word is "spend" as a last minute ticket is EXPENSIVE!!!) in Scotland before chemo starts. So he will go to the British Open after all. I decided not to go as I am hopeful--if he tolerates the chemo well--that I can fly to Glasgow for five days as Guest of Honor of the big World Con Science Fiction convention.

I worked a bit more trying to solve the time problem in DRAGON'S HEART and, alas, I believe I have made things worse. Once David is off to Scotland, I will sit down and tackle this some more. It HAS to be solvable. Most book problems are. But time/attention has to be paid.

Visitors: Patty and Bob MacLachlan for a short afternoon. Patricia MacMahon and her children for two days, they are looking at colleges for son, Connor. (He loved both Amherst and Williams.)

We started the actual process of finding out prices for building Heidi a house next door. Spent a couple hours with a contractor while Maddison and Claire MacCarthy (MacMahon's 8-year-old daughter) played happily with the contractor's dog.

Some book news: a bit more actual interest in PAY THE PIPER as a movie, signed a contract for a short story (not yet written) for a Gardner Dozois anthology, learned to put in reviews on my website so David doesn't have to do that fiddly work. Don't hold your breath as most movie interest is vapor; I'll worry about writing the story when health issues are resolved; and good on me for learning something new on the computer.

Oh-and I did three loads of laundry. (Just in case you thought writers didn't have a real life.)

July 4, 2005:

David and I spent a quiet day at home, reading. He reading about bird song and me diving eagerly into Lawrence and Nancy Goldstone's wonderful WARMLY INSCRIBED: The New England Forger and Other Book Tales. (Highly recommended if you are—like me—a lover of books about book collecting.)

I also managed to work on a sonnet about Emily Dickinson’s dog, Carlo, a great Newfoundland she called her "shaggy companion." And did some more clean up on the computer's desktop.

Heard that Realms of Fantasy magazine will be publishing my short story, "A Knot of Toads" after it appears in the small press book NOVA SCOTIA.

Otherwise, a day of managing pain and thinking about fireworks and holidays past and present. Heidi and Maddison went off with friends to picnic and watch real fireworks, but David and I were happy being quiet together. And the fireworks we saw were the fireflies in our backyard, winking on and off, another reminder of the world’s fragile beauty--here and gone.

July 3, 2005:

While the girls went off with Maddison's father to spend a long sunny day at Six Flags, David upgraded a new G4 for me and, as usual, while it has all these bells and whistles, can tap dance and sit on laps, and whistle the national anthem--it no longer does what I want it to. Simply type and save my writing. I don't want it to reformat my paragraphs, capitalize the start of every line in a poem, query my grammar, or stick stuff in inacessible places. Have I said recently how much I hate computers?

Heidi took a picture of David and me sitting on the sofa with dueling laptops. She even hummed the theme from "Deliverance."

I found a picture of the upcoming boxed edition of the Pit Dragon trilogy online. (No one at Harcourt bothered to send ME a copy!) Excuse me while I whine a bit. It looks good, though. If you want to see it, too, simply google Pit Dragon Trilogy Boxed.

I upgraded blurbs and reviews and the genre list for the website with my new magical powers. And then still in magic mode (and trying to learn to use the upgraded though hated computer) I did some work on the Pit Dragon 4, right now called DRAGON'S HEART.

What did I learn by going over the ten chapters? I worry that it does not start fast enough for the modern (boy) reader. I worry that things happen too quickly in story time. In less than three days I have a major death, a run-away, and the start of a chase. Are these two problems mutually exclusive--it starts too slowly, things happen too quickily? Ah, that's the real question. No, wait--the real question is: can I fix it? I can always change things, but that is not the same as fixing them, something I learned a long time ago.

July 1-2, 2005:

Friday: Ho-hum, another day, another CATscan. And then a birthday party for Heidi at a local Japanese restaurant where they cook your food at the table. Since the DeTerlizzis were along, we were the most fun party there.

Before that I had worked for a couple of hours revising the first ten chapters of the Pit Dragon book, re-familiarizing myself with it. This was supposed to have been my major summer project (along with three promised short stories.) But since my summer will likely be filled with family health matters--and my editors all know this--I will do what I can when I can.

Good news: three nice reviews, one for PIPER from Booklist, two for GRANDMA'S HURRYING CHILD from SLJ and Kirkus. Alas--no stars.

And a poem I'd forgotten had been taken by Peregrine Magazine came out, a lovely surprise.

Saturday: A family serendipity trip, with Heidi's friend Jen and daughter Molly.
First stop was a turkey vulture so hard at work dismantling a dead skunk, he didn't leave the field until we'd driven right up to him.

Next was the Vermont Renaissance Festival for a couple of hours. The girls loved it and the rest of us had fun as well. We especially enjoyed the demonstration by the shepherdess and her two Border Collies running sheep and ducks. When I chatted with her after about my friend Betty Levin, a children's book writer and shepherd who was the first woman in New England to win at a sheep dog trial, she gasped. "Betty is my mentor."

Then off we went for a picnic (David found the spot) at a lovely and quiet state park somewhere between Keene, New Hampshire and Peterborough: Pisgah State Park. We picnicked right by the monument to Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone who served in the Supreme Court 1925-1946. A Republican appointed by Coolidge, he'd been born on a farm right where we were picnicking. So much for fame and public service. The sky was robins-egg blue, with few wispy clouds. There was a cooling breeze. David identified the various birdsong, and we had an up-close-and-personal purple finch sighting as well as a number of harder-to-see warblers and goldfinch, etc.

We ended up in the charming town of Peterborough. I signed books at the Toadstool bookstore (they had many of mine, which is always a plus), bought some gifts for friends at the various antique stores, had gelato at a local eatery, and then drove home, stopping only to check out the eagle nest at a local lake (no eagles) and about a dozen emu at an emu farm.

A successful gathering day.