Journal

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.

June 29-30, 2005:

A career in the arts is a peculiar creature, used to long hibernatory winters, slow and subtle springs. If one is lucky, there is a burst of summer flowering, even cascades of blossoms, kudos, honors, awards. And then a slow, valedictory autumn of the creative spirit. At least that's how it's been in my experience.

My career certainly began slowly, and I was stuck in winter and subtle spring mode through almost a hundred books. I was an underground favorite then, writing my best fairy tales, which were appreciated by some passionate fans, but didn't bring me fortune or fame. I taught some interesting writers--Patricia McLachlan, Barbara Helen Berger, Barbara Diamond Goldin, Anna Grossnickle Hines, Lauren Mills among them.

When the summer flowering came--starting with OWL MOON in '87, DEVILS ARITHMETIC in '88 and a number of well received books up to the popular HOW DO DINOSAURS books which started in 2000--I figured I'd had a blessed and interesting creative life. I was happy with what I'd done. And while still a passionate writer, I didn't count on anything more in the way of Stuff.

Now in valedictory mode, I am still writing well and counting my successes in a smaller way. I have been lucky. Luckier than so many writers certainly. But I can see the baton is being passed on. And that's fine. Publishing has changed. Children's books have changed. I certainly couldn't write THE RAINBOW PARTY or WALTER THE FARTING DOG. But then, for very different reasons, I couldn't have written HOLES or KIRA-KIRA or the brilliant GOLDEN COMPASS and its sequels. I actually did write HARRY POTTER, but that's another story! (Check out WIZARD'S HALL on my website to read all about it.)

That said, I still had a few small victories these past two days.

*Heard that the artwork for FAIRY TALE FEASTS (which I wrote with Heidi--a cookbook!) is done. Of course no one has yet asked for revisions of the text yet!

*I got double the offer for the two new DINOSAUR board books which Mark Teague will work on this summer.

*I finished the draft of ROGUE'S APPRENTICE and shipped it off to Bob Harris, my co-author. It's 68,000 words.

*I worked some more on the poems in MAMA, CAN I HELP.

*There's a nice upcoming review of YEARS BEST in Greenman Review.

As far as family matters, health matters--nothing has changed. We are waiting on tests, on vacationing doctors. Keep those prayer wheels spinning.

June 28, 2005:

We spent all day waiting around to hear from Heidi's friend Jen and her daughter on the train coming up to see us from Myrtle Beach. Evidently Jen's cell phone stopped working somewhere around Washington DC and the train was five hour late, so they missed connections. But all was well by 10 pm, when they arrived in Springfield and Heidi and Maddison (and Brandon) met them at the station.

Meanwhile, I got a bit of writing done--some more work on the back end of ROGUE'S APPRENTICE.

The big news was that the contract has been settled to everyone's satisfaction for the two DIMITY DUCK picture books to be published by HarperUK. It only took two years from the start of the submission process till now. But worth the wait. HarperUK (and the wonderful picture book editor Sue Buswell) are going to try and get the French artist, Sebastien Braun, to illustate it. I love his work that is both charming and palpable, with a gentle humor, so my fingers are crossed.

Otherwise a quiet recovery day.

June 27, 2005:

What does a writer do when things are falling apart? In a hospital waiting room surrounded by people in various stages of mourning, boredom, and dread? Why write, of course.

I revised the last chapters of ROGUE and wrote a draft of the epilogue. I did a first henscratch of BABY BEAR'S PUMPKINS, a board book. In between I raced around trying to fill a prescription, call the family with updates, and other stuff.

The nurses were incredibly helpful (I love nurses!) and everyone marveled that I could write at such a time. What else could I do? I am not a doctor, not a nurse, not even an orderly.

But when things fall apart and the center cannot hold and chaos is loosed upon the world, and all the those gyre images become real, I do what I do best. I write.

And this was an easy day, not one of the ones to worry about.

June 24-26, 2005:

Friday: We made a last minute decision that David accompany me to the big ALA convention in Chicago. Of course plane schedules being what they are (expensive and inconvenient) we had to fly separately--he on American, me on United.

We got there within an hour of one another, met Adam, and were picked up by a lovely spirit guide--the charming Tanya--who whisked us off first to the Magic Tree bookstore in Oak Park and then to our hotel.

We sold about 40 copies of PAY THE PIPER to a small but attentive crowd at the bookstore. Gave out a copy of the limited edition (100 copies) 2-song demo CD of PIPER songs that Adam had put together for ALA. One per book sold.

The Intercontinental Hotel is in Art Deco building brought up to date. We had a big enough room for the three of us, and the silliest huge bathroom that had not a single proper shelf for our toiletry kits!

On to a party at the Fairmont given by Harper where we gorged on tidbits, schmoozed with old friends like Ted and Betsy Lewin. Then we met the indomitable Sara Holbrook, slam poet extraordinare and her slam sweetie Michael for dinner back at the Intercontinental. And after that, a big dessert party thrown by Simon and Schuster. We ate till we hurt.

By the way, Chicago was steaming. It was the hottest June 24 on record.

Saturday: I met Liz VD of Harcourt for breakfast while Adam and David slept in. We talked about the BABY BEAR books and she showed me sketches for the next, BABY BEAR’S BOOKS which are truly adorable. Then off to sign BABY BEARS CHAIRS for Harcourt, which went really well.

David and Adam showed up for the end of the signing, and then we did the rounds of the convention (after I leaped queues and pulled rank in order to get David a 2-day convention ticket.) At noon, realizing that we’d never get any food in the too-long Convention Center Food Court lines, we dashed outside into the steamy Chicago day, grabbed a cab, and drove off to look for a restaurant. Suddenly I saw a sign: "Grace O'Malley’s." I knew this for an omen. After all, she was the great Irish female pirate, about whom I'd just finished writing in THE SEA QUEENS. So we had solid if uninspired Irish pub food, sitting down, with real silverware instead of plastic plates and forks.

Then we dashed back to the convention and the Tor booth where we had a really productive signing, selling another 40 copies of PIPER and giving away the rest of the Cds.

Afterwards, we had a fairly slow Boyds Mills signing (they closed the convention hall around us) and off we dashed to drop off all our loot at the hotel. There, David was tired, so he napped while I did email and Adam raced to the American Girl store for a Marisol doll for his daughter’s birthday (in two weeks.) Then since David felt refreshed, we went first to the Harcourt pizza party (too noisy and not great food, alas, which is bizarre since their dinner parties are always the best) and then on to the Penguin Putnam dessert party atop the W Lakeshore Hotel, a pomo hotel with an entrance flanked by a really off-putting life-sized sculpture of three hanging sharks. We saw more old friends at the party, then stole away with our family agent, Elizabeth Harding, back to the Intercontinental. There we had coffees and teas (and E had another dessert) and we talked books, Adam’s writing, family, and other stuff. In the quiet.

Sunday: I had four signings. The first was with Adam at Abrams for the brand new APPLE FOR THE TEACHER songbook. It was slow, but the few folk who showed up all bought multiple copies, so in the end we probable sold a little over half of the 40 books they had for sale.

Then Adam and David did some more walking around the convention as I signed for Scholastic (fantastic lines for the new HOW DO DINOSAURS EAT THEIR FOOD), solid lines for both Simon & Schuster and Penguin/Putnam/Philomel. I scored a lot of books for Adam’s children and two major book bags for him to carry it all with.

Adam and David left for the airport around 2, and after my last signing, I picked up my bags and left as well. David was to get in a half hour before me, pick up the car, and then get me as I waited outside the United entrance. Of course best laid plans etc. He actually landed about twenty minutes after I did. Thank goodness for cell phones.

It was a lovely valedictory event. We were both very happy to have gone to ALA together. Spending time with Adam, with Elizabeth, with old friends. Whatever is in the future, we chose the right thing to do.

June 23, 2005:

David and I sat in the family room, tv off, laptops at the ready. He worked on his bird songs and I revised the last chapter of ROGUE"S APPRENTICE that Bob had sent, though I broke it into two chapters and fleshed them out a great deal.

And then I wrote the final chapter of the book, a bit anticlimactic since the adventure in Scotland is over and it is time for our main character to find his way to America and get on with his life. But though it was a valedictory chapter in a way, it was hopeful as well.

Today (Monday) I finally realize that I’d been writing a metaphor of the changes I see ahead for me as well. Writing is like that. We writers see ourselves better in terms of the stories that pour from our hearts through our fingertips on to the page.

June 22, 2005:

It looks as if we are going to have very difficult days ahead. I will update the journal when I can.

But Team Stemple is strong. My husband's name is David Stemple. He is Scots/Irish/German. His clan is Douglas. Every year we give holiday gifts with "Team Stemple" imprinted on shirts, hats, etc. The clan is ready for battle. The Douglas motto is: Jamais arriere--Never Behind--meaning they always lead, look forward, see clearly, are not afraid of the future. And so we are.

June 21, 2005:

While David had several long phone conversations with various nurses and doctors--on scheduling and his medical history--I was reading over the Scholastic Books latest catalog.

Wow! HOW DO DINOSAURS EAT THEIR FOOD is on the very first double page book spread. They are pushing the books with a mini-book exclusive to the first printing of the big book (safely attached in the back), counter displays, dinosaur activity kits--stickers, crayons, poster--a "shelf-talker" display, as well as downloadable dino activity sheets from Scholastic’s website. Wow!

Meanwhile, when I turned to my ALA folder to make sure I had everything I needed for this weekend's quick trip to Chicago, I discovered to my horror that my tickets to ALA this weekend were screwed up. The publisher had sent me tickets from Minneapolis to Chicago, instead of from Hartford. I hoped it was just a small mistake. But lucky I found out today! Imagine arriving at the airport Friday and trying to deal with this. It took several emails and two phone calls, but it finally got fixed.

Heidi suggested the family needed to get out of the house. So we went on a serendipity trip. Found a stoneware manatee in Williamsburg for Maddison (she has adopted a real manatee and sends money each year for its upkeep) and a wonderful couple of antique stores. Bought a tea strainer for Heidi's collection. Then, at Chesterfield Gorge, one of the Valley's lovely hidden spots, we got a great look at a kingfisher navigating over the river. Maddison got up close and a little too personal with an aggressive June bug in the car and a small, scared snake at the Gorge. Nearly burst our ears with her high-pitched screams. She could have called in stray dogs with that sound! But on the whole, a lovely (and family-necessary) trip. Made us all feel much better. And as Maddison said, "Tomorrow I'll go back into nature but not today."

Once we got home, I sat down to do some phone calls, speaking to various people at my literary agent’s--the movie people, the man who handles foreign rights. And while there was no good news, there was no bad news, either. These days, that’s a plus.

In the evening, David and I went out to dinner with friends, colleagues of David’s from the university. A lovely, quiet French restaurant in Northampton called Circa. Just what the doctors ordered!

However, both David and I had a difficult night sleeping. He was up every fifteen minute or so. I was writing war poems all night in my head. Not surprising, of course. And at least for me, I was able to get up at 5:30 and work for several hours on the poems I'd already written and revised in bed. Count that as about five hours of writing!

By the way, I am getting no bounce from the second cortisone shots. And as I recall, that was the same pattern from seven years ago. How disappointing.

June 20, 2005:

While David went through his two animal scans--PET and CAT--I tried to get as much work done as possible. I am feeling manic, knowing that once we go into surgery/ nursing care mode, little writing will get done.

So I began the morning putting down the SHAPE ME A RHYME proposal for Boyds Mills, the book Jason and I had worked on over the weekend, and after about two hours, sent it off to the editors. It was a simpleun want a quick read on it before going more into depth.

Then I tackled the next two chapters of ROGUE'S APPRENTICE which Bob had sent by email. We are talking about six solid hours of work, but only because he'd done such a fine job on the chapter drafts.

And I finished up reworking a number of poems and the set-up for MAMA, CAN I HELP, a book of very young poems. It had been turned down by two editors, and I thought some of their objections were valid. But not all. So I am rethinking a lot of it.

And that's how I spent this day, avoiding fraughtness and concentrating on work. For now. For now.

June 15-19, 2005:

Sorry to have left everyone hanging there, but this is what is going on. The news is grim but not necessarily fatal.

Thursday: I went early to the doctor’s office for some new cortisone shots in my back. David went on his own to Dr. Jacobs, the Springfield ENT surgeon. I should have gone with him.

The mass in David’s head is large. Best guess, the adeno-carcinoma has returned. It has invaded the sinus on the left side, near where the old site was, but closer to the surface. Good news--probably easier to get at. Bad news: will need surgery and facial reconstruction and a new palate. Good news: it seems to be growing away from the brain, not towards it.

Are we devastated? Of course. That his cancer has returned three years after the initial radiation is a huge blow. But just two weeks ago he was walking in the Pyrenees and recording birds. I am glad he had that trip, even though part of me wishes he’d been here where a doctor might have found the cancer earlier. But being out in the woods, on mountains, following birds is his Life. And he needs to be living, not dying. It’s Heidi who has been adamant about making me see this. "We can’t keep Daddy wrapped in blankets," she said.

Options: Pet and Cat scan this Monday (the 20th)--I call this the Animal Scan day. Then Wednesday we have a long conference with the doctor to get as many questions answered as we can. A biopsy next Monday, the 27th. Surgery of course, possibly chemo after. Not sure of the timing yet. There can be no more radiation in the head area (this is pretty certain, but not entirely).

David has tickets for the British Open, July 14-17, so one of the questions we need to ask the doctor is: can he put off surgery for three weeks and fly to Scotland to be with son Adam at the Open. Again--blanket-wrapping time vs foolish time delays.

I am Guest of Honor at the SF World Con August 4-8, which should be a couple of weeks after his surgery. Dare I fly out for five days to Glasgow and back again? Will he still be in hospital, or home? Can Heidi--plus a nurse--handle things while I am gone? Will I feel guilty and is there risk? All more questions we need to ask the doctor.

As a family, we are big on living life fully. We try to minimize guilt. We try to take our promises seriously, our work commitments as well. But we are also volunteers. I took care of my Parkinson-ridden father in our house for the four years before his death because I knew that I would have to live with the consequences of NOT doing it after.

So we are in that moment of more questions than answers right now.

Friday: David and I took off for South Carolina to visit with son Jason and family. It gave David a chance to see Jason and Joanne and the twins in their new (1950s!) house. They are still in the middle of reconstruction and repainting, but it’s looking gorgeous. He got to play with the babies. Got to talk to Jason about the new photography job. Got to situate Jason in his community, a kind of mapping that David needs to do. We had a long walk with J&J and the twins through their neighborhood, a lunch out, lots of talking. It was important.

While there, Jason and I outlined the SHAPE ME A RHYME book. So even a bit of work got done.

I finished reading the Suzanne Strempek Shea SHELF LIFE nonfiction about working in a bookstore (perfect!) and Holly Black’s new hard-hitting edgy YA faerie novel, VALIENT.

I came home to first copies of APPLE FOR THE TEACHER, the songbook Adam and I did for Abrams (gorgeous) and a copy of FAIR FOLK, the anthology that Midori Snyder and I wrote the novella "Except the Queen" for.

So life goes on. How does that Edna St Vincent Millay poem end?

Life must go on,
Though good men die;
Anne, eat your breakfast;
Dan, take your medicine;
Life must go on,
I forget just why.

But David is NOT dead. We have hope that the treatment will give him years more life. The family is once more rallying around. We are a tribe that lives on hope, on hard work, and on love. Don’t count us out. At least not yet.

June 13-14, 2005:

We have been thrown for a loop by David's latest MRI scans which show a small mass in his sinus cavity. I will try to post more about writing when I can wrap my head around writing. We think this is not as large or as difficult a place as his earlier cancer. But still, to have something there only three years into remission is a blow. We will know more after he sees the ENT surgeon.

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

June 12, 2005:

Fun day, though I was talked out by the end of it. At ten, David and I went to Wiggins Tavern for brunch with a bunch of sf/fantasy writers, including Susan Shwartz, Holly Black, Esther Friesner. Fantasy artist Gary Lippincott was also there. We gabbed and ate and ate and gabbed. Wiggins has a wonderful brunch. We ate way too much, but who could stop?

Then we drove home to discover that Hatfield was having a huge "Hatfield Unsung Heroes' parade that went right by our house. We had to phone our incoming Texas guests, who were driving up for tea to give them different directions since the normal route to our house was blocked. (They were touring NY and Ct and being Texans, thought we were but a hop, skip and jump away.) Then we went outside to cheer on the paraders, floats, bands, etc. Even the Springfield Shriners had come up in their odd little cars.

However, in the middle of the parade, there was a huge downpour with thunder and lightning and everybody scattered. Luckily I had realized the rain possibility and so I had an umbrella. I stayed outside on the lookout for our friends, who got mammothly lost. But they arrived, at last, and were led into the driveway by me and my big golf umbrella. In they came, with gifts and big smiles. One a children's book author, the other a children's book illustrator--Diane Roberts and Susan Ward.

We had tea, pastries, and chat. We laughed (Diane should be a standup comic) and they left close to 5.

At that point Heidi went off to get Maddison who was at a friend's house (and actually stayed there for dinner) which gave me time to finish the website book blurbs, and work on a new chapter for ROGUE'S APPRENTCE sent by Bob, as well as time to revise three earlier chapters.

Yes, it was a good (if very wet) day.

June 10-11, 2005:

Quick catch up.

Work: Revised 2 1/2 chapters Bob Harris sent on ROGUE'S APPRENTICE. Maybe five hours worth. Bob left me little to do on these chapters but titivate. Still, I had to smooth things a bit, tart them up a bit. On the next go-round I may even do more.

Sent off half dozen poems about War to an anthology, but all came back almost immediately as "too adult". One was a new poem called "Woodrow's Call" and was a sonnet, which I worked on in-between chapters. The writing of that took about three hours in total. I quite like it, too. The sonnet as a form is quite comfortable to me, a good fit. My mind slips into a sonnet as into old shoes. A danger, I suppose, as one's writing should always challenge comfort.

The editor of the Coville collection liked my revision of her revision. So that's a go!

Heidi and Maddison went off to a movie, so David and I had a quiet evening together.

Saturday we spent the day in Shelburne Falls, a lovely hill town about 40 minutes from home, that was having its annual "RiverFest." It was a gorgeous day, though way too hot (closing in on 90.) We walked around town, bought some little stuff, including a great hat for me! Listened to Lui Collins sing by the river--which included several tunes put to poems of mine. It was a tough gig, for children were screaming at their games nearby, skateboarders rode past, a pedi-cab kept picking up and making drop-offs. But Lui's lovely voice held us in thrall nonetheless.

Then I bought a bunch of pastries for a planned tea party Sunday, and we went home through a raging storm.

Got almost home (at the Big Y buying veggies for dinner) when I discovered that I'd left my pocketbook back at the pastries shop. Phoned (bless cell phones) and thank goodness the thing was still where I'd left it. Dropped Heidi and Maddison home, then David and I drove back up to Shelburne Falls. On the way into the store to pick up my pocketbook, I ran into a dear friend--Jim Salem--and he chatted with us for about ten minutes before we drove home, stormless.

After dinner I worked on some blurbs of my fall books announcements for the journal, about two hours of work in all. Not bad for the start of a weekend I suppose.

June 9, 2005:

A big revision day. In-between a dentist appointment and my next to last PT, I worked on--and finished in four more hours--the SEA QUEENS revision.

Just as I was crowing about that, FedEx delivered a package with revisions for the two BABY BEAR books. Neither was terribly difficult. This was the second go-round with the editor after all. So after a couple of hours, those were done, too.

And then I went online and found yet another revision request, this for the introduction to the Coville collection. Well, the editor wanted to delete almost all of the personal stuff. I changed one word, put back two paragraphs, and emailed it off.

I caught up on my reading of magazines and newspapers. And realized that, if nothing else comes winging back tomorrow, I can work on the two chapters that Bob Harris sent for ROGUE'S APPRENTICE.

On a personal note, Heidi, Maddison, and I are still looking at various housing plans and we went through a bunch of drawings, etchings, and old illustrations that I've kept in a portfolio and chose some to be framed.

Cycling down to the 29th when David and I go off to Scotland--if all is right with his MRIs.

June 7-8, 2005:

Bad Day at Black Rock. One of my regular editors called on Tuesday and rejected 8 books. However, this Bad Day emphasizes over again that no one (but celebrities) are safe in the book world. You would think that after my 270+ books, a publisher would be willing to give me a contract and work with me on revisions. But that is no longer the case.

So having vented, now I will take my hurt feelings and stuff them in a chocolate bar, and get back to work.

Some actual good news: a nice review of PAY THE PIPER in Kirkus. Well, at least not a bad review. It's a positive retelling of the plot. Is Kirkus mellowing? Or is there a new editor?

Some news of interest to me at least: the producers of "Young Hippolyta," a movie option based on Bob’s and my novel, did not like the script they were given and so have gotten a new screenwriter. (Though Bob and I would have liked a chance to write the script, that’s not how Hollywood works.)

And writing? Yes. I am deep into the revision of the SEA QUEENS (pirate book) with the editorial letter in hand. It’s fairly straight forward, for which I thank editor Judy O’Malley enormously. She read the manuscript quickly and gave me a wonderful critique. Wonderful as in: I understood it, agreed with it, can do it. She gets stars and extra points.

David is off to Vermont for three days of birding. I am still doing physical therapy. Heidi and I are looking at house plans. (The house next door’s sale fell through because it has a problem with some important beams in the basement, among the other things we already knew about. So even though it’s tempting, it makes MUCH more sense to build on our land.)

Heidi, Maddison, the DiTerlizzis and I went to see "Madagascar" which was fun but depthless.

And I am mourning the end of "Judging Amy." It and "StarGate" are my two guilty pleasures.

By the way--do check out the first of the new snowflakes posted at: http://www.robertssnow.com/view.php Bid early and often. It's all for cancer research.

Mary wrote, asking,"If you get a chance, could you maybe comment on the problem of characters sneaking into a plot, convincing the author of their importance, and refusing to leave?"

In fact, Mary, I wrote an entire essay on this called "Oh, God, Here Come the Elves." It was published in my collection STORYTELLER. But here is the short version. I wrote this for a speech given at the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts. It was about a time when I was working on WHITE JENNA and a group of elves "with an arrogance born of centuries of misrule . . .walked onto the scene."

What I wrote next is this: "There are three things any author can do at this point. The first is to take a Number 2 pencil or a red and green Flair pen and declare open war on elvery." (Note, I was still writing on a typewriter. Nowadays I’d suggest the delete key.)
After some discussion of this, I go on to say, "There is a second course, a compromise approach. The author gives a little to the elves and takes a little away. Like most political settlements, this ends up compromising everybody." I even suggested that the elves "may stay for tea and leave on the 8 o’clock ferry for Lothlorien."

"The third solution," I wrote, "while not nearly as neat as the surgical strike nor as balanced as the compromise, is the one to which I subscribe: total, utter, and abject surrender to the elves." What I mean by this is find out why your subconscious has thrown up these elves on to the page. It took me four weeks to figure it out in WHITE JENNA but it was worth it.

Hope that helps. See if you can find the entire essay.

June 3-6, 2005:

We went to BEA and didn't even get a stinking t-shirt. On the other hand, we got loads of Loot, including books, stuffed animals, chocolates, more books, red binoculars, posters, more books.

BEA is Book Expo, the big trade show in which publishers shout their wares (like a ten-foot-high walking weenie announcing Dave Lubar's latest book that has Weenies in the title) and have giveaways galore. Adam remarked, "Oh my God, I am in Heaven." He nearly needed a new suitcase to get everything home.

After a rocky start--traffic held us up an hour-and-a-half all told on the Cross Bronx--Heidi dropped me and the car off at my rather elegant hotel and then walked with Maddison to their more modest hotel three blocks away. Then the two of them went off to meet a friend and go to "Rent" while Adam went first to have drinks with an MTV movie exec, and then to meet us (Fiona, the Tor publicity person on our PAY THE PIPER, editor Susan Chang, and the PW sf/fantasy review head) for dinner at a lovely Greek restaurant called Periyali. We had a chatty time and the PW guy (whose name suddenly escapes me) told Adam he had a nice review for SINGER OF SOULS coming up.

Fiona and I had gotten massively wet, even with my umbrella, because the ordered town car was 40 minutes late picking us up at BEA and we finally had to walk an extra block looking for him. It was like something out of a bad Meg Ryan movie when in the end we were talking to the driver on the phone and discovered him standing behind us, about ten feet away.

The next day Adam went early to buy black shoes to go with his new dark Brooks Brothers suit. (I thought maybe my rock 'n roll son had been exchanged for a changeling stock broker!) I went on to BEA and began the Loot gathering. I also spoke to editors, got a first copy of HOW DO DINOSAURS EAT THEIR FOOD from the editor (and spoke also to the wonderful Merry Makers plush toys people who made the dino plush toy.) Then Adam and I met up and he got his first taste of BEA Heaven. We made a number of rounds, I had a 1:30 taped radio interview, and finally it was time for Adam and my signing of PIPER.

I warned Adam that one could always gather a line at BEA because they give out free books. So he was duly warned. But in fact, most of the authors did NOT have long lines and we (much to Susan and Fiona's delight) had a line that wrapped around the hall and never seemed to get smaller! When we finished at last, Curtis Brown's movie agent was there to see us. Well, actually she was there to see Adam. I stood like so much chopped liver while she crowed over his wonderful book, SINGER OF SOULS. This seemed to be the theme of the weekend! (Never mind, mothers kvell at such things and I was thrilled!)

Then off Adam and I went by free bus to dump our loot at the hotel where Heidi and Maddison were waiting for us. Then we four jumped into a cab and went off to the Spiderwick party in honor of Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black thrown by S&S. It was waaaaay downtown and a lot of fun. (And more Loot!)

We had a late room service dinner in the hotel room and then Adam walked Heidi and Maddison back to their hotel while I went to sleep. Didn't even hear him come in!

Adam left on an early morning plane back to Minneapolis, and we women drove home around noon time, stopping first at a farewell party for a friend of Maddison's who is moving to Vermont. I was so tired, I left the party early, driving the van the fifteen minutes home, and Heidi and Maddison were driven much later by friends.

Monday, David arrived back from his six weeks away, looking a bit tired and a bit thin but otherwise feeling fine. And so the days whizzed by. And though nothing was written, I read the galleys on my short story "A Knot of Toads," and caught up on email.

One of those emails was from a young writer who claimed she'd had writer's block and wondered how to deal with it. Though I never have writer's block--just not enough time to write--this is what I told her, slightly expanded:

Aggressive idea--Pretend you are the story's agent and write out a couple of paragraphs as a proposal to send to an editor. Be expansive. My son did this on a novel he was stuck on, and it shook things loose.

Passive idea--I truly believe that all stories have a natural time to be told, and it may be that these blocked stories are not yet ready for the telling. Put them aside and work on something else. When it's time for the blocked stories to emerge, they will.

June 2, 2005:

PT and errands and then home. Heidi dealt with the insurance company and we are hoping to get everything solved by next week.

Another friend--one in Scotland--has died. Yes, he had reached a goodly age. But the totals keep mounting up.

Received the third printing of the BALLET book. Rah!

And finished (another 5 hours) the revision of TROLL BRIDGE, made possible by Adam’s doing the first pass. If I'd been on my own, things would have taken much longer. But I am reasonably pleased with the book now and think that any other tidyings-up will be done in galleys. Notice the word "reasonably",.That is high praise indeed. In novels whole chunks get away from me whereas in picture books I only worry about individual words. Of course I worry those to death.

Cathy wrote: "I was struck by what you said about something inside of you suffering when you have to be away from your writing. My teen-aged daughters have seemingly been the focus of my every waking moment for several months. I know that's an exaggeration. There have been bits of time here and there that I have claimed for my own work, but each day when I haven't been able to be at my desk there's been this deep longing. I also find that when I can't write like I want to, my dreams are troubled. I wake exhausted, my nights complicated by an imagination desperate for an outlet. When I am writing, bound up in the joy of creation, I sleep well, or find I need less sleep because my mind has sparks flying and I feel totally awake and alive."

Nicely put, Cathy. My children long ago noticed that I am a much nicer person when I a writing than when I am not! Didn’t make their adolescences any easier or my mothering any less intense. But it sure does make a difference when I can get in at least a couple of good hours work.

Am off in hours to New York and BEA--Book Expo, the largest new book show in the USA. Adam and I will be signing, dining, and trying to get editors to buy new mss! We have meetings, greetings, and will be ultimately charming. And then go to the big Spiderwick party and see how truly popular books are pushed!

June 1, 2005:

So I spent approximately nine hours on revisions of TROLL BRIDGE, though haven't quite finished. It is going smoothly, but I am in the how-could-I-have-missed-this mode. Flailing at myself with the literary equivalent of a cat-o-nine-tails. The editors notes were mostly right to the point. Adam's changes were mostly brilliant. I caught more stuff they'd both missed.

To liven things up, our nice healthy vegetarian pasta dinner ended when the stovetop caught on fire, gas everywhere. We rescued the cat, calmed hysterical Maddison who thought we were all going to be blown up, and waited outside while two fire engines, the gas man, and a policeman did what needed to be done. In an hour all was taken care of. (And of course word was already around town that our house was on fire, our barn was on fire, the workshop was in flames, etc. Small town, lots of gossips.)

Nothing else caught fire, thank goodness, and we will need a new stovetop. (Probably won't be covered by insurance as it's a $500 deductible.) Ate our veggie dinner cold and half-cooked and pasta-less at 8. But nonetheless we were thankful it wasn't a worse outcome.