2012 MN SCBWI Conference-Linda Pratt

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Linda Pratt of Wernick & Pratt Agency

I hugged the computer when I received the official email message that Linda Pratt, agent of Wernick & Pratt Agency, would review my children’s book manuscript at the 2012 MN SCBWI Conference.   Her name had risen to the top of my Agents-I-Think-I-Could-Clique-With List even before she made the list of conference speakers.  Lists like mine should probably give agents the willies.  We unpublished writers keep files on agents — everything we can find on-line and in publications.  Who do they represent?  What books do they like?  What movies?  What do they find funny/inspiring/annoying? TP over or under — soft or strong? (Just in case they come to our house to sign the contract.)

Lo and behold, I found the most comprehensive information about Linda on their Wernick & Pratt Agency Q & A with Linda Pratt web page. Linda’s a woman of my own heart.  She loves LUCY, CHOCOLAT, and Anne Lamott’s  BIRD BY BIRD. She represents fabulous illustrators and authors, like Denise Brunkus and Augusta Scattergood. And, Linda, too, thinks Mr. Darcy of PRIDE & PREJUDICE is — um — not bad.

When we met for the critique, the petite powerhouse impressed me with her warmth.  She inquired about a memoir project I’d mentioned during David Small‘s Q & A session and commiserated about my family’s trials.  Seems Linda and I had some family skeletons in common. Then, when she advised how to develop readers’ empathy, I thought “Linda Pratt knows about empathy.”

During an effective critique, the writer is told what he/she should hear, not necessarily what he/she wants to hear.  Linda gave me an effective critique.  She said, “When I first began reading, I initially thought it was a young chapter book before I noticed the genre designation…”  [This observation would be confirmed by Penguin/Dial Books editor, Heather Alexander, a week later at the Iowa SCBWI Conference (upcoming blog entry).]

The manuscript I’d submitted for review had too many characters, lots of dialog, and even a subplot.  Not a picture book, as I’d designated. Linda corrected me with encouragement.  I’d read about writers who didn’t thoroughly understand children’s book genres on Linda’s Q & A page, but I didn’t recognize myself.  She states clearly: “…if it’s a novel for all ages, or it could be a middle grade or YA, or it’s a picture book for 5-8 year olds, these are signals that you’re not clear on the market for your book, and the work itself is likely ambiguous, as well.…”

Sure, I was disappointed at first that she didn’t jump up and down, gushing,  “This is the best picture book since Where the Wild Things Are.” And, I did have that bad dream about another writer stealing my main character and my thunder while I revised.

The good news?  During her conference presentation, Linda assured us fledgling writers not to give up.  But, revise, revise, revise, before we submit, submit, submit.  Linda initially rejected Augusta Scattergood’s Glory Be.  Augusta revised it, an editor revised it again, and –badda bing, badda boom!

My manuscript review experience? Humbling?

Yes.

Humiliating?

No.

I’d jumped off the diving board prematurely, but without direction I could still be flailing in the wrong end of the pool.

Thanks, Linda!  You’ll be hearing from me again — but not until I revise, revise, and revise.  Then, when I think it’s perfect, I’ll revise some more.

2012 SCBWI-MN Conference-David Small & Sarah Stewart

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Could there be a cuter couple?

The 2012 Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) Conference proved to be an ah-ha event.  The high”lights”, endearing keynote speakers, David Small and Sarah Stewart,  captivated us with their devotion to one another and their genuine interest in the dreams of novices, like me, who looked to them for encouragement.

To launch the conference David bared his soul with a gut-wrenching presentation about his graphic novel,  National Book Award finalist, Stitches. The  bestselling memoir confronts his nightmarish childhood under the care of unstable caretakers unwilling — or perhaps unequipped — to express parental love for him, his brother, or each other. Small called his family a “long conga line of generational dysfunction.”

Why publish such a disturbing piece after a lifetime of success writing and illustrating conventional, light-hearted children’s books?  David’s answer: For his own well-being.  As a middle aged adult he still suffered.  The reoccurring by-product of his youth: Post-traumatic stress disorder and cancer of the thyroid.  To cope, he reflected on his past as his own psychoanalyst and used his art to fill the gaping  hole of neglect in his heart.  He called this process “narrative” or “cartoon medicine”.

See and read Small’s jarring, line-drawn account in his NEW YORK TIMES bestselling novel, STITCHES.

 

 

Favorite David Small 2012 MN SCBWI conference quotes:

  • “Drawing, for me, is like breathing.”
  • “It seemed right, since my life was wordless to make my book as wordless as possible.”
  • “My trash can is a good friend.”
  • “Having a contract is like having a flamethrower on your butt.”
  • “Keep the author and artist as far apart as possible.”
  • “A good book calls up good pictures in everybody’s mind.”

Sarah Stewart wrapped up the eventful day describing the co-creation of The Quiet Place — Sarah, as author, and David, illustrator.  Sarah confessed that she writes to save her life as she knows it — and to keep the demons away.  She recommended that we unplug ourselves and go to that slow, quiet place to meet ourselves.

  • “The writing is a muscle and you have to keep it taut and firm.  Get it very tight — every word a world.”
  • “You know we can change the world one reader — one word at a time.”
  • “I hope you have a partner or a friend who doesn’t think you’re crazy.”
  • “Good criticism is what you already told yourself, but you thought you were going to get away with.”

    Sarah’s beloved Richard Bear

  • “Do you still have something from your childhood? It’s important for you to have something from your youth.”

As a gift to Sarah, David incorporated her beloved childhood companion, Richard Bear, throughout her children’s books.

Hidden in The Quiet Place, you’ll find another loving bonus from David to Sarah: an exquisite fold-out  illustration — an elaborate quiet place for Sarah’s protagonist Isabella —  a colorful contrast from the black and white drawings depicting the starkness of David’s youth.

Can you find Richard Bear?
Sarah Stewart beamed as David opened her book THE QUIET PLACE to reveal his elaborate love note. “David Small gave me a gift of a gatefold,” she said. “Gives me goosebumps, Darling.”

More than one audience member wiped away tears as Sarah expressed her heartfelt thankfulness for having David Small for a spouse.  “I’m still in awe,” Sarah said. “It’s like making magic explode.”

The blessings go both ways.  Sarah seems a seven/seventy-fold gift to David as well — a warm, loving, and sweet recompense for the cold, loveless, bitter life he once lived.

Thanks, David and Sarah, for your candid mentorship and kindness. And, thanks to the MNSCBWI Conference organizers: Quinette Cook, Jessica Freeburg, Alicia Schwab, Celia Waldock, Catherine Glancy, Kristi Herro and all volunteers for once again producing a positive, memorable  event!

My next post: Wisdom from conference speaker, Agent Linda Pratt of Wernick & Pratt Agency.

Hello Dolly Date

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The sweetness of our first official grandparent/grandchild “date” prompted me to plan another happily-ever-after family event just for the girls:  me, my doll (my daughter), her dolls (her three daughters), and their dolls (really — their dolls: McKenna, Ashley, and Katie). Our foo-foo destination — brunch at the American Girl Doll Bistro.

The younger girls’ dolls are Americans, girls, and dolls – just, unbeknownst to them, with a less expensive “g”.  To avoid melt-downs, I called ahead to inquire if all dolls would be welcome. Thankfully, the AG representative assured me that they do NOT discriminate against dolls of any origin, even from the less affluent side of the tracks.

When I picked up my dates, I expected the front door welcoming committee with the usual accolades – hugs, kisses, and “You’re the best grandma in the world”.  Instead, one granddaughter argued with her mom about the relevance of brushing hair, another love-wrestled her little brother to tears, and the littlest stomped, crossed her arms and protruded her bottom lip.  “I didn’t get bweakfast.”

“We’re going for brunch, Sweet Pea.”

“I don’t want bwunch. I want pancakes.”

Their dolls looked perky and groomed — but them — not so much. Apparently, they’d stayed up past their bedtime the night before. I threatened that we couldn’t go until they brushed their hair.  No bristles made contact.  I stood my ground — for about 45 seconds — until the one who once cut her sister’s hair said, “Why can’t we just be bald and wear wigs?”

Everyone gets great service at the American Girl Doll Bistro.

At the bistro, while I envisioned bald granddaughters, two girls at the table next to us gushed over official AG photographs.  I whispered to the server, “How much?”

“Twelve dollars each.”

I flinched.  It seemed a silly extravagance on top of barely touched $14 pancakes, especially since I brought my camera.  Unfortunately, the granddaughter with perfect hearing determined that life would not be worth living without official pictures.  So, she whined. I stood my ground — for about 55 seconds — until the “cheapskate” sign flashed on my forehead.

Apparently, the AG photographer saw my neon sign.  She humored me by asking if I wanted to take some pictures, too.  I happily  complied.
To escape the paparazzi  frenzy, the girls fled to nearest amusement park ride — the AG store escalator.  As my daughter and the oldest descended, I climbed on the top step with the youngest.  The middle granddaughter let go of my hand and stopped, causing a jam of escalator-goers behind her.  I heard “I’m too scared” as her sister and I disappeared below.”You wait there!” The Superman theme played in my head as we hastily got in line to ascend.

“Wook!” The youngest pointed.  The bottom half of the descending escalator was empty.  In the middle, an embarrassed, but chivalrous teenage male AG security guard held my granddaughter’s hand.  Granddaughter #2 beamed like a little debutant as an amused entourage packed behind them.

Better than an escalator.

Nickelodean Stare Down

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We grown-ups suggested real amusement park rides to avoid making the AG Doll’s worst customers list.  After zooming, swooping, spinning, and saying “no” to 375 pleas for SpongeBob SquarePants novelty items, my daughter and I suggested a dessert diversion. The girls chose cotton candy and then determined they liked my daughter’s and my ice cream better.  I stood my ground for about 15 seconds — until they found extra spoons.

The flawed fairy tale might have seemed a disappointment — if not for little boxes of table topics that grace the tables at the AG Doll Bistro.  One question: “What was your favorite childhood memory?”

My daughter and I reminisced about holidays past. Two of the granddaughters cited their birthdays.  But, soon-to-be-Escalator-Girl put her head on my shoulder and wistfully sighed, “THIS is MY favorite childhood memory.”

Seems the best memories don’t require perfect hair or even perfect harmony.

 

Strategic Spontaneity

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We’re not sure how our oldest grandchild morphed into a social seven-year-old, but it caught us off-guard.  Her maturation snuck by us so quickly. To our hearts’ discontent — gasp — she now prefers playing with her friends over hanging with her grandparents.

We have two choices: 1.) wallow in self-pity, mourning the passing of the once-glorious moments she clung to our legs in worship or 2.) thank God for those memories and revel in her marvelous, normal development.

We chose Door #2.

Really, she hasn’t outgrown us.  She’s simply distracted.  Staying present amongst the diversions in our grandchildren’s  lives will simply require more creativity.  So, my husband and I formulated a strategic plan, incorporating  a tradition of semi-annual Grandpa and Grandma “dates” when each of our grandchildren will be the center of our universe.

We’ve only completed one Grandpa and Grandma Date and we’ve already determined that these modest events will soar among the highlights of our lives. 

During our first official date, our granddaughter (Ms. Social) selected dinner at A&W Root Beer and shopping as her excursion. She held our hands and skipped, often lifting her feet, so that we could swing her through the air. To encourage selflessness — and because children are starving in Bangladesh (we are cheapskates) — we took her to the dollar store to shop for her siblings. We worried she would consider us miserly.  Instead, she glowed, as if she had inherited a treasure. She carefully searched out the perfect stuffed animal for her toddler brother, an art apron for her pre-school sister, and window decals for her kindergartner sister.

She brought her own money to purchase eye glasses for her nearsighted doll.  We helped her do inventory of her pennies and nickels and Grandpa slipped in some extra change to cover her selection.


She declined amusement park rides, getting sidetracked by an ice cream/cookie sandwich.

When we dropped her off at her home she proudly distributed her gifts — a consolation for the formerly sad siblings who wanted to go on the first first date.

While we admired her admiring her bespectacled doll, Ms. Social whispered, “I love you, Grandma.  I love you, Grandpa.” This led me to skip–even though Grandpa couldn’t swing me when I lifted my feet.

Since then, we’ve decided to be proactive with our grown children and our friends as well — diligent in designing more quality interaction rather than hoping the moments will spontaneously occur.

Perfectionism-Friend or Foe?

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Ten years ago, a young friend gave me this comic strip from our Sunday newspaper:

Snoopy: “Here’s the world famous writer starting work on his new novel…”
Snoopy types “The”.
Linus: “I don’t know…”
Snoopy types “It”.
Yes, I like this beginning better.

Charles Schulz astutely captured the human/beagle condition of perfectionism.  My friend gave me the comic strip as a form of intervention for my perfectionism disorder.  I only recognized her motives the other night when I heard my husband arrive home from work.  I quickly changed my computer screen, so he wouldn’t see that I editing the same 20-word page I was revising when he left that morning. My reflexes weren’t quite fast enough and I couldn’t make a poker face to save my soul, so I’m sure he caught me.  It didn’t help that my eyebrows hung over my head and “busted” flashed in neon on my forehead as he kissed it.  Now, he probably thinks I have a different computer-related disorder. 

For writers, perfectionism will be the death of our work.  Certainly, we should strive for quality, but the fear of making a mistake can lead to paralysis — or success at completing absolutely nothing. Here are my signs.

  1. I’ve dreamt about writing books all of my life.
  2. I’ve thought about writing books all of my life.
  3. I’ve talked about writing books all of my life.
  4. I started writing a book at age 25.
  5. I stopped writing a book at age 25.
  6. I started writing a book at age 30.
  7. I stopped writing a book at age 30.
  8. I started writing a book at age 35.
  9. I stopped writing a book at age 35.
  10. I started writing a book at age…well, you can see a trend here…

Living with a perfectionist is probably even harder than being one.  My family has heard me talking about my dream for too long.  Now they just sigh, “that’s nice” with that glazed look, like I get when Bertha, the nursing home resident, tells me about her hemorrhoid problems for the 2,749th time.

If you recognize any of these signs in yourself, save this cartoon as a background image on your computer.  The first step to recovery: make a decision, for goodness sake!

So what’ll it be?  “The” or “It”?

911: The Universal Call to Action

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Tragedy is not a typical topic for a blog about writing for children.  But, since today is the eleventh anniversary of 9/11, it seems only right to reflect and grow.  There’s no escaping history and our children may need to talk about it.

During a recent tour of Washington, DC, on the way from the U.S. Air Force Memorial to Arlington Cemetery, our tour guide pointed out the bus window, “And, there is the Pentagon.  Note the section of limestone, lighter than the rest.  That is where American Airlines Flight 77 flew into the structure.  The benches on the grounds by the Pentagon are part of a memorial — each one signifying the loss of a life that day.”

Everyone in the bus grew pensive.

I’m sure you remember where you were that September morning.  I sat, oblivious, in a clinic waiting room. Then someone turned on the TV.  A year later, I spoke on behalf of our Chamber of Commerce at a city-wide memorial service.  I still have my decade-old notes:

Everything  changed on September 11. This horrendous event, meant to demoralize America and steal our faith, has indeed brought us to our knees.  But, little did our adversaries know that in our humblest moments, we are  strongest — when we can admit our need for God’s help and each other.

Isn’t it ironic that the numbers nine-eleven would hold significance to our adversaries as a number which would inspire them to do harm? In America, nine-one-one is the universal call to positive action, when we are called to help and care for each other.

Misguided men meant to change our country in a negative way — to tear us apart. Yes, we were changed, but not in the way they had hoped.  They’ve taken our pride and we’ve traded pride for wisdom.  They’ve taken our indifference and we’ve traded indifference for compassion.  They’ve taken our ingratitude and we’ve traded ingratitude for appreciation — a deep appreciation for the great country in which we live. They’ve taken a part of our hearts, but hearts regenerate.  The more we give of our hearts, the more our hearts grow.  Our adversaries have enlarged America’s heart to strengthen our love for one another. Yes, we have been changed — for the better.  Because, we are not the Solo States of America, we are the United States of America, one nation, under God, indivisible… May God bless America. (End of notes.)

Let’s talk with our kids today.  If we don’t have the words, Martin Luther King Jr. does:

THE ULTIMATE MEASURE OF A MAN IS NOT WHERE HE STANDS IN MOMENTS OF  COMFORT AND CONVENIENCE, BUT WHERE HE STANDS AT TIMES OF CHALLENGE AND CONTROVERSY. ~ MLK quote, Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, Washington, D.C.

Aye Aye, Captain

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I’m practicing my salute in anticipation of our son’s return to the States next year.  He was recently promoted to Captain, but we didn’t get to witness his commissioning.  He serves our country with other brave men and women in a scary, far-off land that doesn’t specialize in tourism.  Yet, this is his second tour there — to try to make a difference.

To me, he’s still our little boy. I know he hates that, and could crush a coconut in the crook of his arm, but he’ll always be that to me — especially now.

I phoned our other son, Captain’s little 6’4-contractor-family-man brother, and asked “What should I send your brother?  What gift can possibly express, ‘Congratulations on becoming a Captain!'”

“Send him a box of Cap’n Crunch.”

Brothers are so sappy, aren’t they?  And, ingenious.

This inspired me to brainstorm for other resourceful items to commemorate the auspicious occasion.  After all, the Captain had sent me this Mother’s Day sentiment :

Caution! This video will lodge in your head and cause bad-hair dreams.
Also, an ad pops up.  Sorry.   I couldn’t find the original.

 So, here’s my list of TOP TEN THINGS TO SEND A NEW CAPTAIN.  You might want to use it — unless you have more cash (and class) than us.  And, I know, some of these items will only make him scratch his stubbly head:

10.  Captain America Blu Ray (So he gets one gift he can share with his men.)

9. Captain America T-shirt (So everyone will know he’s a Captain, even when he’s wearing civilian clothes.)

 

8. Captain Kangaroo’s Surprise Party Golden Book (Duh! Because it’s time to party!)

7. Captain America bobble head — Just because…

 

6. A Captain Jack Sparrow Tribute to the tune of “I Am Your Captain” by Grand Funk Railroad (Two Captains for the price of one.)

5. A YouTube of Captain Kangaroo with Mr. Moose. (Snappy dressers should stick together.)

 

4. Captain & Tennille YouTube – “Muskrat Love” (In case he starts to hate his job, he can consider what it’d be like to be  this captain.)

 

3. A box of Cap’n Crunch Cereal (Straight. No berries or peanut butter for a real Captain.)

 

2. A boxed set of Captain Underpants paperbacks.             (No explanation required.)

 

 

1. Nostalgic pictures of our Captain Underpants (packaged discreetly, so they don’t end up in enemy hands).

 

A Picture Book Without Pictures

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A picture book without pictures is like the Pips without Gladys Knight:

Click the image to see the YouTube video

For the life of me, I can’t remember whose writer/illustrator blog featured this clever insight — but I concur.  I’m so thankful to have Elise Hylden, writer and illustrator, in our writers’ group.  She continually challenges me to say more with less.  At the 2011 MN SCBWI Conference, Illustrator Dan Santat noted the brilliance of children’s book author, Mac Barnett.

During a break, to uncover the secret of brilliant writing, I purchased Barnett and Santat’s collaboration, Oh No!  Was I surprised to find that the number of words in
Oh No! equals the number of times I use the bathroom in a day.  Yet the book was, as Santat promised, brilliant.

The illustrations that poured out of Barnett’s initial idea make the book.  Obviously, Dan Santat is one of the most brilliant illustrators Mac Barnett has ever met. The book is what it is because Barnett trusted.  He had faith in his illustrator to transform his thoughts into an out-of-this-world adventure.

I don’t have his trust — yet.  Sometimes I leave words, intending that they can be cut later, clutching to them as if to a life vest that holds my vision.  Barnett is more secure.

Barnett doesn’t need a critique group, but I wonder how Oh No! would fare under the scrutiny of the status quo.  I can see the margin scribbles on his manuscript:

       This makes absolutely no sense.

       You might need to explain this for blind kids.

       A giant frog seems a highly illogical choice to solve your protagonist’s dilemma.

       You don’t even tell your protagonist’s name for — wait!  You don’t ever tell your
protagonist’s name! Where is your character development?  Will she capture an audience if we don’t even know her name?

(My daydream has more words than the book.)

Just when I’m wrapping my head around Oh No!, Brian Snelznick comes out with
The Invention of Hugo Cabrat and Wonderstruck — thick, honkin’ books of silence.

Interestingly, these books that speak softly and carry big sticks are by men. My husband would be thrilled by this audibly “quiet”, visually “loud” trend — if he knew about it. Are these works possible for us word-abundant females?

Maybe I need more silence to see and hear clearly.

2012 MN SCBWI Annual Conference

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Compliments of Quinette Cook, Regional Advisor, MN SCBWI:

CRAFTING YOUR MAGIC
2012 MN SCBWI Annual Conference

Saturday, October 13, 2012, 9 a.m. – 5 p.m.
U of M Continuing Education and Conference Center, St. Paul

Early Registration (Postmarked by September 28): $125 member, $150 non-member
Registration After September 28: $150 member, $175 non-member
Portfolio and manuscript reviews will be available again.

Download a registration form.

Click for more information.

Does your writing need a little magic? Does your artwork want for a few
new tricks?

Do you lack focus and wish for a little more hocus-pocus to make your work
come alive?

Then join us for an amazing day that will awe and inspire. You may not be
able to pull rabbits from a hat, but you just might come away with a few
fun ideas, some great information and new friends.

Speaker include (subject to change):
David Small, Illustrator (Stitches, The Gardner, The Quiet Place)
Sarah Stewart, Author (The Gardner, The Quiet Place)
Stephen Shaskan, Author/Illustrator (A Dog Is A Dog)
Linda Pratt (Wernick & Pratt Agency)
Minju Chang (Book Stop Literary Agency
Sara Sargent (HarperCollins)

Room For More

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I love having children in our home. Our children and grandchildren bless us abundantly, but there will always be room in my heart for more.  Therein lies my motivation to author picture books. I can write more children into the world and introduce them to our grandchildren.  I can name, incorporate family traits and idiosyncrasies, and hit the backspace when they get too sassy or unmanageable.

The other morning I awoke to a dream that my husband and I had adopted a little boy.  Before I was coherent I murmured to my husband, who was in the bathroom, out of earshot, “Thank you so much.  I LOVE him.”

Now I realize the boy I’d “adopted” is the protagonist in my latest picture book manuscript.  Like my own kids — the more I nurture him, the more I know and love him.

To add flesh to my picture book characters and story, I’ve made a dummy for each manuscript.  (A dummy is a 32-page mock book to assist in structuring a story.) Since I’m artistically-challenged, I use Microsoft Publisher to incorporate clipart.  This serves me well to create reader-friendly  stories for “test drives” with my grandchildren and others.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately — depending upon the day), there’s no clipart that truly depicts my family – even those adopted in my dreams.  Ironically, the clipart protagonist I chose (from iclipart.com) has red hair.  No one in our immediate family has red hair. Perhaps I chose a red-head because I didn’t want anyone to recognize who he might be in real life.  Or, maybe I’m subconsiously fashioning him after a young Napolean Dynamite NapoleonDynamiteor my red-headed cousin that I haven’t seen since childhood: Bobby Bill.  Hmmm…come to think of it…

Just yesterday I tried changing the color of my protagonist’s skin and hair because I thought potential agents might be looking for a more exotic approach.  Then I realized how silly that was.  When the “real” illustrator gets ahold of my stories, the characters will look exactly as they are meant to look.  It’s like giving birth.  Initially, I won’t know who’ll come out, but I’ll trust the one/One fashioning them for life in the world.  After all, I already love my “children” before I behold their faces, because I’ve already held them in my heart.

Sometimes a character is really mini me (an older, female Napoleon Dynamite). One manuscript is about terminal tardiness.  The story line came to me after pulling on two locked doors minutes after closing time.  First, I stood at the post office door with a time-sensitive document, then at the optical office across town with old, worn contacts in my eyes.  All of the fruitless running made me late for a dinner date with my husband. I hated the feeling of disappointing him with my carelessness.

Interestingly, our daughter thinks the story’s about her brother, our oldest son.  (Sorry son – it’s in the genes.)

Our granddaughters point at the characters in a story and argue, “I’m her.”

“No, I’m her!”

“NO, I’M HER!

“How ‘bout all of us be her?”

It’s fun to see the character(s) they most identify with – and to learn why. (Usually it’s whoever’s wearing pink.)

I’m excited by the opportunity to create new possibilities, relive lessons learned, investigate ones not learned, and ensure happy endings where they’re missing.  The best thing about writing children’s books?  The children we create can stay children forever.  And, they can live on — long after we’re gone — so our children’s children can enjoy them, too.