In Case You're Keeping Track Today...

And just where is Santa now?

http://www.noradsanta.org/en/home.html

Fuzzy-Wuzzy Wuz A Santa

Our question of the week was about favorite holiday books from childhood. My personal favorite is one that I remember not for its plot but for its texture: an oversized (quite tall) paperback Christmas story, which I believe but cannot swear to was an edition of The Night Before Christmas. The crucial feature of the book? The fuzzy Santa on its cover. To me, he's the Santa to whom all other Santas must be compared.

It might have been a Whitman edition, circa 1950s or 1960s. It's still extant at my parents' place; I'll have to take a look at the publication info when I'm there next week.

(...but not until after I've finished my annual convening with its cover.)

Still More Good News

We're delighted to announce that TIME in partnership with CNN chose The Pout Pout Fish by Deborah Diesen, pictures by Dan Hanna as one of the Top Ten Children's Books of 2008.

Congratulations, Debbie!

Just Enough is Plenty

by Ann

When my boys were small, our favorite holiday book was Just Enough is Plenty: a Hanukkah Tale by Barbara Diamond Goldin, paintings by Seymour Chwast (Puffin Books, 1988). I remember sitting in the big chair with Jeremy in my lap, and Sam squeezed in beside me, reading this book and singing along with the characters. (It’s been at least a decade since the three of us could fit in that chair at the same time.)

Today, as I reread the book, I was amazed at the amount of text, and I squirmed a little at the heavy handed explanations of Jewish culture. Yet, the story rings true. What do we look for in holiday books but a depiction of our culture and the retelling of a miracle? The story is also a reminder that long before our current economic crisis, people survived hardships with generosity and grace.

Just Enough is Plenty takes place in Poland, probably in the 1800s. It illustrates life in a small Jewish village during the Hanukkah celebration and retells the story of Elijah the Prophet.

Question of the Week

The holiday season brings a slew of new holiday fare from publishers, including reprints of old favorites. I ask the Write Brainers:

What is your favorite holiday book or story from your own childhood? A version of 'Twas the Night before Christmas? Dickens? O. Henry? Or maybe you want to talk about a current favorite. The Latke who Couldn't Stop Screaming? Oh, and tell us why you like it, of course.

Writing during Seminars and Meetings

by Kay

Part of my job involves meetings and seminars, especially that we are now in job interview season. So I might be taking dual notes, one set to keep me focused and a second running set of ideas for a story.

I also write in the car. There wasn't much traffic in most of New Mexico when I did that, but I had to give it up in Alaska. Not enough of a shoulder and it was bumpy enough to render my journal unreadable. These days I'm more likely to pull off the road and write a note, but I have set off the horn more than once. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

QOTW: Writing on the sly

Debbie writes: Have you ever found yourself furtively jotting down an idea or phrase when you were supposedly doing something else?
Ruth answers: Often. I can't help it; I've been doing it since I was a kid. Today there's even more reason because my Ellie McDoodle books are full of games, jokes, pranks, trivia and require a lot of research. I keep my writer ears on all the time, and if I hear or think of something that turns into something that might someday be useful, I write it down fast.
And even if it won't be useful in an Ellie book, maybe it'll become part of another story.
I keep a notebook on the car seat next to me and can write without looking, thanks to frequent practice writing in the dark, in bed. (Note to April: Try Post-It notes on the steering wheel. No need to hold them in place while you scribble at traffic lights ;)
The most egregious intrusion of my writer self into my personal life is when I'm tucking my kid into bed. As soon as I kiss her goodnight the last time for the night, I run to collect all the gold I've just mined and stash it in a notebook.

How to Drive & Write by April

Furtive Writing

I'm the Queen of Post-Its, but also of napkin-writing and hand-writing and up-my-arm writing; whatever is available, really, and whenever -and wherever- I can. This includes while I'm driving. Yes, that's my dirty little secret (and now yours, too). I grab paper from my purse, from a tiny notebook which has been used by my children, whose squiggles I must write around, or yank a napkin from the passenger side glove compartment --the reach itself is pretty treacherous, but what I do next may make the weaker-hearted of you not wish to read on.
While handling the driver's wheel with my knees, I pinion the paper to the horn with one hand, hold a pen cap in my teeth, and jot down notes, dividing my "eye time" equally between paper and that yellow line. All while hurtling down the road in a thousand pounds of metal.

And yes, I've accidentally honked the horn during particular moments of eureka euphoria.

Coming to you from Under The Teacher's Desk

By Lori

Probably the most guilty pleasure of my job as a substitute teacher is snatching a moment to jot notes during the school day. This is not so easy to do, unless the kids happen to go to gym or music. But, occasionally, I do it when the students are still in the room because I'm afraid I will forget. It seems a little naughty, but I do have justification.

One of the reasons I sub is because schools are a veritable story minefield. I'm a kid in a candy store (an author in a story store?), and I'm only a sub, which means I have time to allow the seeds to plant themselves in my brain. Instead of going home to grade papers, plan tomorrow's lessons, take parent phone calls, do parent teacher conferences, have curriculum meetings. . . .and on and on and on, I can go home and write away.

"What are you doing Mrs. Van Hoesen?" A student said, catching me in the act one day not long ago. He was done with his work and came to look over my shoulder. I wasn't grading papers, that much was clear to him.

"Um, well, just writing down some ideas."

"For what?"

"Stories. :o)"

"OH! Mrs. Van Hoesen is writing more stories!" he announced to the class. "Maybe if we're good she'll tell us one."

And so, really, even though I sometimes feel a little sneaky, it all comes full circle in the end.

Question of the Week: Writing on the Sly

Ideas often come to writers at unexpected times, a writer-reality that gives us this week's Question of the Week for Write Brainers:

Have you ever found yourself furtively jotting down an idea or phrase when you were supposedly doing something else?

Readers of Write Brainers, feel free to share your own furtive writing confessions in the comments section.

Distractibility

--Debbie's perspective

I'm very easily distracted. This comes in handy as a writer -- it's curiosity that launches the mind into imagination -- but being prone to distraction can make it difficult to actually complete a piece of writing. In addition to general distractibility, here's what's been doing me in lately:

• The election. What with having to bring my new yard sign in every time I leave the house, there go minutes from my day. Add to that my compulsive headline checking (up two points! down a point! oh my, Florida! Ohio!) and my days are pretty full lately.
• Good mysteries. Too many writers are writing absorbing mysteries lately, and I can't seem to drag myself away from them.
• My schedule. I've been busier than usual for many months now. I have come to the point that when I open my calendar, I cringe as if expecting to be attacked by a wild animal.
• My inner critic. Man, she's noisy.
• The mess on my desk. I sorted through it just last week, but it's back!
• Email. Don't get me started -- I'll just whine and give lame excuses for my inability to stay on top of my Inbox.
• Pumpkin pie. Why write, when there is pumpkin pie to be eaten?

Still, when I push it all aside and just write, I'm never sorry. And the pie tastes even better when the work comes first. (As a side benefit, the pie can also be used to distract wild attacking calendar animals.)

Distracting Cats

by Kay

There's a reason I go to McDonalds to write. The distracting cats, all two of them. First they want milk, then a ball or milk ring to chase, then tuuuunnaahh (you can almost hear them meow it), then to lay across my work, walk across the keyboard, sleep in the basket under the lamp just within petting reach, or, their favorite, curl up on my lap and cast a sleep spell, so I can't move to upset them.

They are now 12 cat years old now and are the human equal of 64 human years, according to one website I found. I guess that answers the question "Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?"

Guess so. But I won't get much writing done.

Excuses - I Mean Distractions

by Ann

My main distraction is my family. I spend a lot of time taking care of them. On the other hand, I love them so how can I complain? During the past year, I spend uncounted hours with my mom, and while my writing time was limited, I don’t regret being with her during the last year of her life. My boys are growing up and requiring less and less from me. Next year my older son will live at college. Maybe my younger son will earn his driver’s license next fall, and I’ll be out of a job as chauffeur.

Distractions
by April

I am easily distracted: by noise (even the buzzing of overhead fluorescents--yes, it's that bad); by internet searches that begin on the topic of plant identification(is that poison ivy in my garden?) and end with the fact that John Ruskin founded the Pre-Raphaelite movement in 1848 (did you know this?); by conversations of which I am not taking part but want to be; by playing tackle-anything-goes football with my son wherein I suffer for two days after but the little guy says, "You're like an army of football players, Mom!" so it was worth it, because I'm thinking, boo-yah--"Mom" is more that JUST a great palindrome!;
Essentially, I am easily distracted by all manner of things...
Even the Question of the Week itself.
Three and a HALF regular readers?
I spent the next fifteen minutes after reading the question, wondering about that poor little half reader. Who would he or she be?
If you're out there, Half Reader, speak up! I'd love to follow you around for awhile, listening in on your conversations, taking notes and researching what you do, and maybe even tackle you.

One Ringy Dingy

By Lori

The number one distraction in my house is the telephone. Even when I don't answer it--that incessant ringing! Turning my ringer off is such a chore, having to hunt up all the stray handsets etc. And even then, I haven't figured out how to do more than turn them down.

My answer is to head to the library and write there. Of course, then you have the distraction of all those BOOKS! I just have to check out what's new, and then, well, read those. . . .

So then I try getting up at five a.m., before the phone stirs in its cradle, and I write in the dark, in my living room with hot tea beside me. This is actually my favorite time to work.

But then I get hooked on a show like Dancing with the Stars, or Project Runway, or some such other diversion that keeps me up late and unable to make my wake up call.

So I get up. I get my kids off to school. And then, if I'm not working that day, I sit down to write, dreading the impending ring of the phone. I check my email and some blogs because it's late enough that people will have posted new things. And the phone is going to ring any second anyway.

And then it happens. The phone does ring, and I remember that it could actually be an editor. Trying to contact me. And I think maybe I shouldn't dislike my phone so much. Because one of the reasons I do this is the flickering hope that maybe one day I will get THAT call. Which won't be even a little bit annoying.

In fact, it would be music to my ears. :o)

Question of the Week: Distractions

For various reasons, we've all been pretty quiet on the Write Brainers blog lately. But it's probably time for a little blog activity, lest we lose our three and a half loyal readers. So... Here's a question, one that should be relatively easy to answer.

What are the things (these can be actual physcial things, or intangibles) that have a tendency to distract you from your writing projects?

Tuned On, Tuned Out

I listen to A LOT of music when I'm in the rough drafting and brainstorming stages. It sends my brain in so many creative directions. Rhythm is everything for my body when it comes to creativity.  It truly does something amazing to free up that brainstorming and allow my mind to move back and forth between day to day boring old problems and the solutions likewise to writing walls.  If I'm listening to music and working out at the same time...watch out, there's a firestorm of ideas out there. Beware to anyone who disrupts those moments for me. They probably won't recognize me as anything approaching a kind human being. Therefore, I never use music during the drafting and brainstorming process if I have to be able to switch quickly into human interaction mode. 

Confession time....the list of music that I listen to while brainstorming and drafting is eclectic and bizarre.

Synthesized Bach...yeah, he's good. Vivaldi--great. So are collections of Renaissance music (Sting has a pretty interesting one; great for fantasy writing).

And then there's all that other stuff I listen to that I don't think (as an adult who's supposed to be a role model for kids) I should admit to listening to while writing. But here it is:  Coldplay, Radio Head (pretty great stuff for creating a dead narrator), Travis, The Dave Matthews Band, Michael Jackson, Runrig, Enya, Yes, Led Zepplin, The Beatles, The Indigo Girls, U2, The Proclaimers,  Pink Floyd, Abba, Billy Joel, Cat Stevens, David Bowie, The Cure, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Indian Pop-Rock (some of that stuff is awesome; plus I can't understand the words so they don’t distract me ), R.E.M, The Talking Heads, Aqualung, Oasis, Tom Petty, The Bare Naked Ladies....okay, you get the idea. 

But during revision, I DON'T listen to music. When I'm struggling with organization, or with getting connections across sections of the text, I need to spend some time away from music, just looking at what I've brainstormed on the page, and then some time away from the page and just with music envisioning all the possibilities. I never reread my writing to see how it sounds or feels when listening to music. I can't hear the rhythm of my own language then. I'm pretty good about knowing when music is helping and when it's hindering me.  

Tuning the Muse

By Lori

Sometimes I enjoy a little Loreena Mckennett, Enya, or other new agey, celtic sounding music while I'm writing.
Usually I need something with little or no words, otherwise I start listening to those words instead of writing my own.

I like Mozart piano sonatas because they remind me of my childhood (barre exercises during all those ballet lessons). Lately, after the Folk Festival a year or so ago and then again this year, I've been turned on to Acadian Fiddle. It's upbeat, and I think would be great for a hero's journey backdrop or a lot of other things, too. Folk music in general I find quite inspiring, because it's timeless and evocative. It just has to have a wordless, soundtrack-like quality.

Music To Write By

MMI'm looking for recommendations for music to write by. I usually need silence when I write, but not always. Sometimes I need music to keep me awake -- I have on occasion successfully written to CCR (Creedence Clearwater Revival for you youngsters). But stuff with words I can understand is often distracting. So foreign languages can be all right.
MMAnd sometimes I need music to screen ambient sounds, especially conversation. I have a rather small classical music collection, and haven't really settled on stuff I like to write by. Do you guys have favorites? I reckon that would change according to what you're writing: upbeat, soothing, etc.
MMBTW, I did do some googling without much help. I found this study. I assume the little dears were listening to stuff that I wouldn't call "music."

The effects of background music on word processed writing
S. E. Ransdell and L. Gilroy

Division of Psychology, Florida Atlantic University, 2912 College Ave, Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33314, USA


References and further reading may be available for this article. To view references and further reading you must purchase this article.

Abstract

College students often listen to music while they use a computer. This experiment investigated whether background music disrupts their ability to word process fluently and effectively. Forty-five psychology undergraduates wrote brief expository essays. Background music significantly disrupted writing fluency (words generated per minute controlling for typing speed and including those words deleted before the final draft) even though no response to the music was required. Those with some musical training and high working memory span wrote better essays with longer sentences and were also more likely to pause at clause boundaries. Even unattended music places heavy demands on working memory and disrupts word processed writing.

Planning Pads

by Kay

The supply I cannot live without is Planning Pads.

These pads are 80 pages of thicker than normal paper, with a light blue grid on the front and lines (College ruled!) on the back. The sheets tear away, as long as you hold the top corner to get them started. The funky advertising cover tears away too, leaving a calm undersurface of blue, green or brown. The cover flips back, and the pad has a super strong back, just right for the "writing on your lap at conferences" tasks we do.

The underside of the cover gets dated when I start, because one rule that keeps me going is the mantra "Use up the pad!" That way, I try not to agonize over the quality, but get my thoughts down in a free-flow jumble of energy. I'm a terrible typist, so I start my many lists and bubble diagrams on this raw resource. And the 5 colors (and three sizes) of sticky notes that nestle inside the back cover are pretty cool too.

I just bought a new stack for the pile at home. There's one in every writing bag, near my bed, at school, in the car.. Ah! I'm ready to write!

More Good News

We're on Cloud 9. The Pout Pout Fish is #9 on the New York Times Bestseller List this week.

Go, go, go, Mr. Fish!

Ode to The Spiral Notebook

Lori's

I have a thing for spiral notebooks. Not your flimsy, cheap, five for a dollar kind. I'm talking multi-subject, pleasantly colored, plastic covered, college ruled, thick, filled-with-quality-paper sort of thing. Couture notebook. I see one, fall in love with it, and purchase it, caressing the cover on the way out of the store. The paper fans past my nose as I inhale paper making chemicals like some kind of pulp junkie. I start to write in it: WIP notes, ideas, jottings, essays. I close it. I give it a little hug and swear I will love it forever, or at least until the paper is gone. I'm committed.

Then the inevitable happens. The notebook of the moment is half full, and I find myself getting the itch to visit my nearest office supply store. I see them, stacked neatly in the aisle--those brand new, fresh spirals. I briefly consider the loyal, still-room-to-write-in-it notebook waiting for me at home. But these new ones look so. . .hopeful. They need me. They need a home.

So I buy one. I walk out the door, smelling its newness and swearing I'll love it forever. . . .

The Supply I Demand

by Ann

I type everything, so I don’t use a lot of office supplies. There is one item, though I can’t seem to live without. And I don’t even buy it.

Photocopy shops return large jobs in convenient 8.5 x 11 inch boxes. I keep one by each printer to store clean paper. I also have one for each manuscript. In the manuscript boxes, I store critiques and the odds and ends of novel synthesis.

The box for my previous WIP has:
* pictures of llamas
* a timeline for the Iraq war
* notes from a documentary about The Weather Underground
* a nose and glasses sticker
* a rubber band-powered paper airplane
* a calendar of January - March, 2003
* a brutal paid critique from a conference
* notes from a first pages panel
* some critiques from my critique group that have already been analyzed and incorporated. (Perhaps I could recycle those pages now.)

I could cover the boxes in fancy paper. They’d look better, but they work just as well without decoration.

So Here's Nothing (a continuation of "Something")

"Ooowww, you're hurting me," Pam complained as Lindsay grabbed her by the arm and yanked her forward.  "Besides, manhandling me is not going to stop me from asking you about your--"

"I'm so humiliated I could die. So help me, if you say it, I'm going to scream."

"No, you won't. I mean, won't that just be even more humiliating? And then everyone will notice that you've got--"

Lindsay had reached the door. She pulled on it so hard that it's bottom edge got wedged with high-powered momentum between Pam's baby toe and the strap of her sandal. "Yow!" Pam howled, sounding a bit like a tormented cat. "That freaking hurts!"

Lindsay felt the signs of impending guilt. She pushed against the door, trying to move it, but it was solidly entangled with the sandal strap. She finally bent down to force the imitation leather strap away from the tip of the door. Blood was beading up on a scratch along Pam's toe. 

Yep. That was guilt bubbling up in her. 

None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for those stupid two seconds on the bus.

Just two seconds.

But it was enough to establish a reputation that was bound to plague her for the next four years of high school...

Question of the Week: Supplies & Demand

My coveting of Boni's cool new folder, along with the general joie de office supplies feeling that permeates the Back-To-School-Season, has me contemplating a small shopping spree to replenish my pen and paper supply.

So my question-of-the-week for the Write-Brainers crew is: Do you have particular supplies that you count on for your writing and creating? For instance, do you have a favorite kind of pen or notebook? Or a type of supply that you invariably use for organizing your drafts?

Readers of this blog, feel free to chime in with your own favorites in the comments section of any of the QOTW:Supplies/Demand posts.

We're Too Pleased to Pout

We're delighted to announce that our own Debbie Diesen and The Pout Pout Fish are on the New York Times Bestseller List!

Congratulations, Debbie, from all of us.

So here's something. . . .

With Labor Day ahead of us, do you want to celebrate with a nice, old-fashioned circle story? (I can see your heads nodding eagerly) Here's a set-up:


The school bus heaved itself to the front doors of George Washington High School. Inside was Lindsay, a Freshman. Not only was she fresh to High School, she arrived having been freshly humiliated en route. She was fresh out of cash which meant she'd be starving come fifth hour. Then there was the fact that her fresh, new notebooks were now ruined.
The doors of the bus opened and Lindsay stepped out.

"Hey Lindsay!" Pam called from the sidewalk. "How come you--"

"--Let's just go inside."


If you want to play, go ahead and post some more story. :o) No minimum word counts or rules to speak of except maybe, you know, don't kill the main character. Just have fun and be creative!

I Win!
By Tim

MMYay for me! (Or not, we'll see.) I whupped you all, and you didn't even know I was in the race, did you? The stealth racer, hee hee. I wrote every day of the week in our "Olympics" (and before, and after). I never wrote less than an hour and 39 minutes (1:39). My best showing was 2:55. Not all my totals were earned in one sitting. My average daily total was 2:10:25.71 (if we're going to get all Michael Phelpsy about it).
MM But. Even when you're running a marathon or ultramarathon, you do have to finish sometime. So maybe y'all still came in ahead of me. Draft 6, Ann! Maximum respect. I can only stand at the bottom of the mountain.
MM BTW, Lori, did you revert to default settings or something? It's easier to change the type and format now, and one other thing. Know how I finally got it to indent? I put a couple of M's there and changed their color to white. Me so smart (finally).

Writing Olympics

by Kay

My Olympic discipline has been rather like a series of quarter finals with a little each day, and then a big finish. I missed on Monday and Tuesday, but wrote the remaining days for a total of 11 hrs. I just need to even things out a little better.

Not counted was the time I spent reading “Specials” by Westerfield and another novel in the Dresden Files series. I’ve also been outlining novels, to look more closely at technique. “Breaking Dawn” by Stephanie Meyer is reserved as a reward for hard work.

Soon school will force me into the 6-9 am slot, and we’ll see how many mornings I can make it to McDonalds. I’m training a whole new group of counter staff on “50-50 caff-decaff, 3 cream, 3 sugar” so you know they are expecting me.

I Broke the Tape

by Ann

The Olympic Challenge was suppose to last 7 days, but I'm calling a temporary (personal) timeout. By writing for at least 2 hours/day Monday-Friday, I crossed the finish line on draft #6. Two days remain in The Challenge, but I’m blowing the whistle and taking a breather.

This weekend will be devoted to the triathlon of housecleaning, weeding and paperwork.

Don’t worry, I’m not sidelining my WIP. Next Monday, I’ll dive in again and plead for potential judges and scorekeepers to read it.

A Quick Retreat Thank You by April

I want to send a big thank you to my writing group, my friends, for our weekend retreat. They are seven of the best people you could ever find, each of whom holds a wonderful piece of our collective puzzle.
Thank you for the conversations and camaraderie, the writing time and filling my empty creative reserves back up.
I love that we moved the furniture to be as close physically as we were feeling emotionally. It's funny, the way people's body language gives you an insight into their mood. I know in some social situations, I'm arms-crossed-and-quiet. Drawn within, which isn't my nature--it t'ain't natural to not want to share. But my weekend was all big laughs and scooting furniture close together. Very nice.
Thanks for the reminder of my sillier self, with laughter that didn't stop until at the end, a teary goodbye, a little nose-blowy...But what's a little phlegm among friends?
I'm sending you each an Iowan Hug ('scuse the corn hairs),
April

The Writer's Olympics

Now, I'd like to pose an Olympic Writing Challenge for Writebrainers (and Writebrainers Readers for that matter). For the next week, until next Monday, I challenge us to write at least one hour every day. If you already possess this discipline, I challenge you to spend this hour working on some completely new idea that you haven't deemed worthy of such attention--until now. If you are already working on four books at once, (Ruth) then God help you.

Will you go ahead and post your progress on Writebrainers? It doesn't need to be a contiguous hour, but we do have to write every day--no putting in seven hours next Sunday and calling it good (though that would be sort of impressive on its own). . . .BUT, if you miss a day, don't fall off the wagon. Even four or five or six hours in the next week would be great progress.

Pencils ready then? GO. :o)

We were in full retreat --
but that's good!
By Tim Bogar
Our first retreat was a rip-roaring success. Proof? We’re already trying to work out dates to return to the Hankerd Inn next summer. It was just what the writing doctor ordered. It’s a lovely facility with LOTS OF LIGHT. I feel like I live in a cave after staying there.

Such a simpatico group! I laugh more with this group than with anyone. I probably added 23.7 days to my life. Not that the "goal" is quantity; it certainly improved my quality.

Oh, and hey, I wrote most of the day on Saturday! Occasionally I would be ready to stop for the day. Then I’d think about all the writers throughout the Barn, and I’d keep working. Good progress, and I think I’m on the verge of breaking a logjam.

Shoot-out at the Hankerd Inn
What sparkly evenings: the earth shooting fireflies at the sky, and the sky responding with shooting stars. (Must have been early Perseids.) I saw two and a half. But the first, and biggest, sneaked behind my back, doggone it.

You all are my favorite group ever! I looked forward to our retreat all summer, and now it's in the rearview mirror. But the rosy glow will last a long time.

QOTW: Most Memorable Roadtrip

This is Ruth typing. Lori asks about memorable roadtrips.

In 1971 I was 12. Dad and Mom piled all 7 of us kids into the station wagon and hauled us and a Scamper Camper (popup) from Detroit to Washington DC, our first big trip as a family.
Mom gave each of us a notepad to draw/write things in, about the trip-- this is the first sketchjournal I remember getting.
I didn't take it seriously. I wrote a few sentences, drew a couple things, and fought with my siblings instead of concentrating on the notepad.
We saw wondrous things.
I loved the Smithsonian, especially the amazing dollhouses and jewelry.
Loved the wax museum, the various monuments and memorials. We took side trips to Pennsylvania -- Hershey (loved the chocolate kiss streetlights), Amish country (Bird-In-Hand -- I loved the apparent peace and history) and Philadelphia (loved-loved-loved seeing the house where Lincoln was treated before he died, Independence Hall,
the Liberty Bell,The Betsy Ross house, Christ Church, and the burial sites of many early patriots including our great-great-many-greats uncle, Robert Morris, who signed the Declaration of Independence and helped finance the Revolutionary War).
Lovely trip, loved it all, the history and culture.
Lots of photos which Mom snapped. Very sparse art/journaling from me.

Later that year Dad died suddenly.
I deeply regretted not having more of a record of what he meant to me, personally. Mom remarried and life changed. Two years later my art teacher pulled me out of class one day to give me a blank book to record my perceptions of life in. Somehow she recognized I was a very troubled 15-year-old, though I sure didn't tell anyone what was going on at our house.
Ever since then I have sketch-journaled, not every day, but most of the important stuff, and certainly all of our roadtrips.
I believe it saved my life.

I want to go back to Washington DC, introducing my own family to its wonders. Maybe next summer. Of course I will sketchjournal it.

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be....

Oh, the shame of it. I couldn't possibly say it out loud. Could I? The dreams of a little girl....

So very different than the Mature, Mild-Mannered adult I've become. Surely it couldn't reflect badly on me now?

Still. There's that part of me, that eensy-weensy part of me that thinks it would be a hoot. If only '70's TV shows were still a part of all our lives...

I'd be a Solid Gold Dancer.

It was around this time of life, my Solid Gold Dancer years, that another career line hit me. I was reading a newspaper story. (Here's a visual for your laughing pleasure: I was sitting there on a faux-leather couch in our dark-paneled living room with orange shag carpet and ten-pound dial telephone next to me. My hair was down to the backs of my knees, parted down the middle Marsha Brady-style, and wearing those little socks with the fuzzy balls at the ankles.)
The article was about income levels and it listed all sorts of careers. Near the top was one that sounded easy enough to do, and boy oh boy, did it bring in lots of money! So I called to my Mom, "I've changed my mind for my future goals. When I grow up, I want to be... a Call Girl!"

My Mom sprang through the strands of beads separating every room of the house, and, still half-wound up in them, asked, "WHAT?!?"

I knew something was amiss because her mood ring went black.

"Er...nothing," I managed, the light from the lava lamp churning like my stomach.

That night we gathered around our big 24 inch TV that was thicker than it was wide and as I watched those beautiful, swishing-at-their-butts dancers in their fringed gold outfits, I thought, Heck, I don't want to make phone calls for a living, anyway.

Question of the Week

If you've followed the comments section of my Mystery Trip post of a few days ago, it appears that at least a few of us Write-Brainers had some, er, odd dreams and aspirations as children. (Lori and I are now contemplating a Mack truck road trip up to Boni's folks' place, for an afternoon of bagging and a return trip through as many weigh stations as will take us. If we're wearing Laura Ingalls Wilder sunbonnets at the time, it will constitute my Complete Childhood Fantasies Fulfillment Trip. Though presumably we might get some odd looks at the truck stops.)

Anyway, this week's question: What were some of your slightly odd childhood fantasies?

Write Brainers, go ahead and chime in with your posts. Readers, feel free to pipe up in the comments sections. This is a bit of a silly topic, to be sure; but getting back into your childhood head can help you in your writing for children.

So go ahead and trip down memory lane, and see what jumps out at you. Just watch out for the Mack trucks!

Debbie's Mysterious Roadtrip

Writer Brainers' current Question of the Week is about memorable roadtrips, so I thought I'd weigh in on the topic. But rather than offering up one from my distant past, here's a trip of more recent vintage, fresh from the mental scrapbook of my family's vacation last week in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

We stayed in the Manistique area at an extraordinarily lovely cabin, and over the course of a week spent plenty of time on the beach. We also took some fun if slightly de rigueur sidetrips to Big Springs, Seul Choix Lighthouse, and Fayette Ghost Town. Many pictures were taken. Much fun was had. Good memories, all of them.

But we also made one sidetrip of a very different nature. We went to.... The Mystery Spot.

Why, you may ask? Why would a family with common sense coursing through its collective veins voluntarily pay an expensive visit to a known tourist trap that is based on nothing more than optical illusions and vestibular disorientation? What an odd thing for her to say! It's downright... mysterious!

To understand the rationale behind our irrationality, let me take you back in time for a moment, to my and my husband's childhoods. (Bring your duster -- you'll need it for the cobwebs.) Though he and I didn't know one another then, we likely passed one another on the highway, as both of us made regular trips with our families to the U.P.

Those trips exposed us to those intriguing Mystery Spot road signs: those bright black, red, yellow and white signs dominated by a Giant Question Mark. Oh, those billboards were irresistible! I longed to go to the Mystery Spot. As I've written about previously (in my 9/16/7 entry on my News page) this desire ranked right up there with my fantasy of driving in to a truck weigh station. (Bear in mind when considering these somewhat odd childhood dreams that I spent most of my long car trips of yore stuck in the middle of the back seat, doped up on Dramamine....)

My parents were (and still are) good and smart people who knew full well that (if I can say this without being sued by the Mystery Spot people) a visit to the Mystery Spot would be a waste of time and money. I, and the world at large, know this to be the case. But knowledge was no match for my and my husband's combined 87 years of Mystery Spot curiosity. So when our children expressed their own strong interest in going (OK, well, it was really just a case of "Mom, what's the Mystery Spot?" -- but add thirty or forty years, I'm sure they'd be hankering to go), we figured it was time to pay a visit.

Needless to say, we were underwhelmed. Admission was even more than we suspected it might be, and we had to wait a while for our "tour" to begin, not an easy task with two trip-weary kids. Once "in" the Mystery Spot, our younger son found the tilt and slant of the Mystery Spot building to be so disturbing that he could barely stand to be in it (to an extent that I had to chase him down and demand that he Get Back In Here and Enjoy The Mystery Spot, Now!). Our elder son, an engineer in the making, held up his hand at nearly every opportunity to point out how the principles of physics were being utilized. Still, by the end, we all got into the spirit of doing such a ridiculous thing, and we were laughing happily -- if only at ourselves.

And thus are roadtrip memories made.

But one mystery remains. The brochure for the Mystery Spot invites visitors to "See for yourself why most of our one million visitors return year after year." Say it ain't so. People go back???????

Question of The Week

This week's question comes to me as I pack to leave for a vacation to Pennsylvania. Have you had a memorable roadtrip experience? It doesn't have to be a vacation roadtrip. Doesn't even have to be in a car if you want to get technical about it. Let's talk about what happens in transit. I mean it's all about the journey, right? :o)

Even Then You Were Gone

A Response to Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why
By Amy Huntley

Jay Asher’s first novel has been successful in reaching The New York Times Best Seller List. It’s also been successful in reaching a part of me that I haven’t thought about in a long time—the twenty-two year old young woman whose cousin hanged herself.

This novel centers around high school junior Clay Jensen, who receives a set of tapes following the suicide of Hannah, a girl he had a crush on for years. The tapes were recorded by Hannah just before her suicide. The story seeks to help teen readers understand the complicated dynamics of Hannah’s decision to take her own life. The tapes explore thirteen experiences that come together to explain why she has decided to kill herself.

The reader journeys back and forth between the thoughts of Hannah as recorded on tape, and those of Clay as he listens to them. He struggles to understand Hannah’s experiences and choices. He also battles complicated feelings about his peers as he learns new things about their involvement in Hannah’s life.

This all makes for compelling reading. I found myself wanting to read the next chapter, “just until I find out what person Hannah will talk about in it.” The problem was, as soon as I discovered who that person was, I wanted to know more about how that person’s story intersected with Hannah’s decision to kill herself. Of course, as soon as I knew that, I needed to read the next chapter…

This is a fascinating story concept. It allows readers to see how complicated interactions of things that are seemingly small, even if mildly cruel (like a list rating which freshmen are hot and which are not) can have devastating consequences when paired with other circumstances in a person’s life. This is a lesson I believe we all need to keep relearning, and Asher provides it in a unique way.

But none of this is really what I reacted to in the novel. As someone who was left behind when a person I loved chose to commit suicide, I appreciate the way Asher examines the thought process of the person making such a far ranging and permanent choice. Clay’s own interpretations and observations of that thought process help readers see them even more clearly.

I was twenty-two when my cousin killed herself. At twenty-two I had a lot more in common with the teenagers that Asher is trying to reach than I do with the forty-one year-old I have become. Two months after Kristen’s death, I was still struggling to name my frustration with her choices. I wrote a rather lengthy letter to her—which Asher’s book prompted me to pull out. One of the things I wrote in that letter was, “And I tell myself one hundred times a day you’re gone. But I still don’t know that because it’s the same—it’s the same as when you were alive. Even then you were gone.” Asher captures this exact feeling beautifully when his narrator says, “I would have helped her [Hannah] if she’d only let me. I would have helped her because I want her to be alive." These words are an echo of my own feelings reaching out to me across 19 years.

This is an engaging and highly charged reading experience. I recommend it not only to teens, but to their parents as well.

The hardest part - pinning things down

I think the hardest part of a novel for me is pinning things down, and keeping them pinned down. I watched my cat Emer the other day. She pounced on the feather toy, but a little wriggle from me made the string look more enticing, so out went her paws in rapid succession. The string was tired down, leaving the feather free to be whipped away. What she thought was solid (her hold on the prize) was an illusion, and it was wasn't hard to totally exhaust her, especially by letting her capture the fleeting sense that she has accomplished something.

This is how the writing process goes for me. It isn't really a question of beginnings, middles and ends, although I do think the middles are the hardest for me. It's more like seeing shadows of the project come and go through the mist of other choices, other possibilities, consequences, and scenes played out by the actors in my head, with camera angles and directorial instructions shouted out in a whisper. At times, I am surrounded by characters, each arguing or begging for a part in the opus. It is hard to tell who to listen to, and when. An "excess of imagination" seems such a neutral term for it. I'm still getting used to the problem that each choice narrows some paths and widens others, and you don't have a breadcrumb path to help in choosing which way to go. Many paths work, but they lead to different stories.

So, like a channel surfer with cable, I get flashes of beginnings, scenes, cliffhangers, "feel good endings" and deep conversations, often from several projects simultaneously, while I try to figure out what to wrestle into the current novel.

Sound familiar, or am I the only one?

Summer Goals from the Desert

I would like to get the following underway:
1. return from the desert,
2. move my office and lab,
3. make duty visits to relatives,
4. jump start my current writing project,
5. have something surprising and wonderful for the retreat.

It seems so simple, really, even benign. Post a list, how hard can that be? Not hard until I start thinking of the ten-minute tasks that need to back these goals up, and the fact that the summer feels more than half over, and, and, and - Well, I'll do my best!

The Hardest Part

by Ann - answering my own question

For me, the hardest part of writing a manuscript is the beginning. I rewrite my first chapter a dozen times, then throw it away and start someplace else. I rewrite that a dozen times, and start again. I know a novel is supposed to start as close to beginning of action as possible. Easier said than done. Richard Peck says, “The first chapter is the last chapter in disguise.” I try.

For my work-in-progress, though, the beginning practically wrote itself. The middle sailed along, until I started removing a character and his subplot. (Now I feel like I’m trying to wrestle a Bengal tiger back into its cage.) The ending I initially planned was unsatisfactory because it cheated my protagonist. She deserved better. Then as I was playing with alternate endings, a wonderful line from Walt Kelly popped into my head, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” I knew what to do.

Question of the Week: In a novel, what's hardest to write?

This is Ruth writing.

Ann asks: What's hardest to write, the beginning, middle, or end, and why?

For me it's the ending.

When I start the novel I already have the middle.

The beginning is fun to write because it's a challenge to come up with a hook.

The end is tough because when I start writing I don't know what the ending is.

Or if I do know, it seems too pat and I need to bump up the challenge and make it tougher.

Which, incidentally, just about sums up how I handle my life, as well.

"This hike isn't hard enough. How can I make it more of a challenge?"

Ellie McDoodle Book Launch-easy reader edition

See Ruth speak.

See Ruth DRAW.

See Ruth take lots of time with fans.

See Ruth's book. See Ruth's tired signing hand. See Ruth being adorable.

See yourself buying Ruth's books!

Ellie McDoodle: New Kid in School is the sequel to Ellie McDoodle: Have Pen, Will Travel

Get them at your local independent bookstore. Our own Schuler Books hosted Ruth's book party and did such a nice job.

*Next month Borders Book Stores will be featuring Ellie McDoodle. Ruth has no idea what this means, but we agree it sounds like a good thing.

*Pics taken by Tim Bogar, who had lighting and Keeping-Ruth-Still issues but managed to get very nice shots anyway. :o)

*It's so nice to see someone who has worked so hard, for so long, get much deserved recognition. Congratulations Ruth!

QOTW: Novels are Hard.

In response to Ann's question: All of the above.

But to be more specific, of the choices given, I pick middle. The middle is hard because usually when you begin a novel you have an idea about the premise, which gives you a clue how to start the thing. Like a lot of people I tend to start too soon, but it isn't hard--wrong? Yes. Hard? Not so much. Same for the ending. If you tend to write mostly chronologically (as I tend to so far), by the time you've muddled through the middle, the ending is less difficult, at least, in terms of HOW it happens.

But the middle. It's the bridge. It's the juicy filling. It's the part between slices of bread. And it's hard because this is where I tend to wander off into the desert and take detours and forget that I'm supposed to be going THERE. So the middle ends up being a huge mess, mostly, for many drafts. At it's best, it is an exploration of themes with some good stuff to keep for the later drafts (only to throw it out later because you realize it really really really doesn't belong after all, but I digress--see? I'm bad at this). At its worst, the middle is a convoluted, disorganized, wretched annihilation of things like character development, through lines, and yes, the English language itself. Me no like middle. Me afraid of middle.

My solution is to write a novel with no middle. Yep, just a really long beginning attached to an equally long ending. Now that was easy. Endings I can do.

Question of the Week

When writing a novel, which part do you find the most difficult: the beginning, the middle, or the end? Why?

Summer Goals, Schmoals by april

I'm writing my fingers to the bones so far this summer (given I've got skeletal fingers, anyway, I suppose that's not sooo bad...), but let me just say right now: my writing is under the Gun! Forced, I tell you! Debbie and I are collaborating on a book about AGING (as if...look at us, people: are we not Youth on a cracker?) Anyway, Debbie will not let me rest. She may look all innocent and sweet, but under all those freckles lies a chariot driver with a whip-pen. (I'm the tarred-and-feathered one being pulled behind)
Somebody!
anybody.
please...
help

Goal-Setting, Summer Edition

--Debbie's View

Generally speaking, I'm more Eeyore than Pollyanna. But for some reason, when I sit down to set goals, my dormant inner optimist comes to life and takes over. She has a tendency to craft grandiose plans formatted with headings, subheadings, and sub-subheadings. Little surprise that I never make it even half way through these unachievable checklists of delusion.

So, for my summer goal-setting, I've given my inner optimist a wallop. While she's out cold, here's my pragmatic side setting some simple, do-able goals:

1. By the end of July, finish a first draft of Face It, a project I'm working on with April.
2. In the waning days of July, blow the dust off Grand Canyon, my YA novel manuscript. Work on this manuscript during our August writing group retreat. Continue to work on it during August.
3. Finish and revise Gonna Make It Through, a rhyming picture book manuscript I'm currently working on.

That's it. Now I'm off to wave the smelling salts under Pollyanna's nose.

Getting Around to Goals

Lori's

Here are my summer goals, in no particular order:

1. Get a handle on WIP revisions

2. Begin those revisions

3. Declutter finished portion of basement (Paint?)

4. Read The Taming of the Shrew

5. Read a few grown-up books (maybe even a classic?)

The progress on one and two will significantly influence the progress on the rest. A friend of mine says, "Motivation doesn't exist." For a want-to-be-lazy person like myself, this is a helpful philosophy to live by. It takes a certain mysticism out of the accomplishment equation.

Once, when I was on vacation as a kid, we went to one of these souvenir shops where they sell all kinds of useless things including "Round Tuits." These were wooden coins with the words "Round Tuit," printed on them. The joke was, if you're a person who's planning on doing something "when you get around to it," well, here's one for you. No excuses now, by golly, you've got yourself a one hundred percent authentic wooden Round Tuit! I remember the elderly man who sold them getting a real kick out of explaining these valuable "coins" to the unenlightened.

I didn't find it very funny as a child, probably because there wasn't anything I was particularly trying to get around to doing. But now, I kind of wish I'd kept one of those Round Tuits. You know, just in case it would be helpful.

Summer Goals

by Ann

I was just about to write about my summer goals on my own blog. Great minds think alike, Lori. :-) I might as well post them here instead.

1. Find a way to like my W.I.P. again.
2. If successful, go to goal 3; if unsuccessful, go to goal 5. (I wish I could make a flow chart in Blogger.)
3. Finish the 5th draft of my W.I.P.
4. Work through Darcy Pattison’s Novel Metamorphosis book.
or
5. Work through Darcy’s book with my former W.I.P., a multiply-rejected, upper-midgrade novel.

Question of The Week

This week's question is: what are your goals for the summer? What do you want to accomplish, writing or otherwise? Post it here now--in August we'll do an "update week" so you can let us know how you did.

The Zero Draft

by Kay

It isn’t a rough draft I’m writing. It’s barely in this reality from some twilight place downstream of dreaming, waking, and hysteria. If I call it a zero draft and keep saying “Just get it down, you can fix it later” over and over, I have a fighting chance. I find drafts excruciatingly easy to abandon when the fear factor rises.

The people in McDonalds think I’m pretty strange. They also claim that some day my table will be famous. More likely it than me, probably.

The astute reader will notice that my posts are lagging behind the official QOTW posting "Week" but I won't use that famous quote as my comeback. Better. Never.

The Best Summer Ever

Kay’s view

When I was twelve, we lived for the entire summer on a 31 ft cabin cruiser. The marina was on an island in the middle of the St Lawrence River. I read books all day from one of the best kids libraries ever by riding the launch over to exchange books several times each week. To this day, a vacation of reading is still my favorite!

That same summer I also received a scholarship to attend a week-long painting class in town. My parents had planned to drive home for that week and could not change their plans. I don’t remember what I had to promise, but the upshot was that I spent a week on my own (the first ever!) with no more than a friendly neighbor’s occasional check up. I cooked, cleaned, took myself across the channel to class, painted a number of canvasses and tried hard to stay up past my bedtime (too tired!).

It was a glorious summer before seventh grade, when who you knew and who knew you, who spoke to whom, and peer pressure changed my world forever.

Twisted: A Learning Experience

Book Review by Ann

Twisted

by Laurie Halse Anderson

Viking (2007)

I enjoyed Twisted as a reader and as a writer. Laurie Halse Anderson tells an exciting, moving story. Her novel is a model for character development and plotting.

I don’t want to give too much away, but here is the basic premise. Tyler was a nobody at his high school until he defaced the school with graffiti – and got caught. His summer of public service has turned him into a tan, buff guy. Now people treat him differently and new opportunities arise, especially with the most popular girl in his school. Tyler also becomes the favorite suspect when other crimes are committed.

The characters are multifaceted. Tyler, Hannah (Tyler’s younger sister), Yoda (Tyler’s best friend) and Bethany (Tyler’s heart throb) each bear analysis. The voices ring true.

The plot is a great example of the chain reaction. The protagonist makes a decision, and other events unfold as a direct consequence of this action. Tyler spends the beginning of the book buffeted by fate until he decides to fix the situation for himself. A character who wants the job of protagonist must take charge.

I learned much from this book and highly recommend it.

P.S. The cover is terrific. Who could object to that dramatic right-handed helix?

String Bean Dean Goes Swimming

By Lori

My parents were both teachers, so summer was a special time when I was growing up. Particularly the last day of school. We would go out to eat and my parents would be in great moods. I still love the last day of school, it makes me get the same happy feeling even now. Summer was mostly a blast. And then there were swimming lessons. . . .

My mother took me to classes at an outdoor community pool, taught by a stern woman we called Miss Jean. She was a drill sargent and didn't hold with namby pamby students who complained about the cold. We were in northern Michigan and summer sees it's share of cold days. No matter. When Miss Jean said, put your face in the water, there was no question you would do it. I learned to swim out of the simple fear Miss Jean might drown me if I disobeyed. She shouted stroke counts above your head as you fought your way across the pool. There was no encouragement, unless you count things like, "You're SINKING!" and "Get your BUTT UP!"

I was a miserable swimmer. There was no hope of impressing Miss Jean. I knew this. And, at eleven, I looked emaciated in my bathing suit besides. The boys in class called me Lori Dean the String Bean. Though I had an appreciation for alliteration even then, this did not give me comfort under the circumstances. I felt like a stick bug trying to be a fish, and failing terribly. I continued to sink, much to Miss Jean's disgust. Then, one day after a successful prone kick and fin she said dryly, "Well, now you've got it."

I never made it past the Red Cross "Advanced Beginner" level, but I do thank Miss Jean, who ultimately had a heart of gold, for bringing me that far. She was hard to impress which was magnetic somehow. She taught me that there was a time to be serious and do the work, and she made me work harder. She didn't reward you simply for showing up. And her compliments were few, which made them precious indeed.

Summertime Memories

from Ann

Is it okay if I break the rules a little? Currently, I am focused on a teenage summer, my last teenage summer.

That summer, when I was 19, turning 20, I took a chemistry class at a small state college. Some of the people I met then or knew around that time served as models for the characters of my WIP. Some of the stupid things I did that summer inspired scenes in my manuscript. That was a time when going body surfing was as simple as walking a couple miles down the fire trail to the beach. My biggest worries were studying for tests and keeping my GPA up. Actually, my biggest worries involved boys.

It was summertime, and dreaming was easy.

Question of The Week

This week's question is, which summer from your childhood is the most memorable to you? Here's one to spark a story idea. . . .

Scaffolds and Scribbles and Drafts, Oh My!

--Debbie's View

When I write a story in rhyme, my drafting process begins in a burst of enthusiasm and optimism. Usually I’ll have been inspired by an idea or a fun phrase or word or sound; this spark starts the story. The next step in my process involves experimentation, as I try out different rhyme schemes and cadences, and play with characters and plot. I usually enjoy this exploratory period, much of which takes place off-paper. Eventually I arrive at a workable rhythm and a general notion of my story’s arc. I then set up a blank draft to indicate the general structure of my story, including notes about recurring words and phrases. This is the scaffolding for what’s to come.

But when I get to the next step, of fitting my story idea into the structure I have devised for it, the work becomes much more intense and often much less fun. Once I’ve started earnest work on my draft, I find it very difficult to stop until I have a complete first draft. Having an incomplete rhyming story draft is physically painful to me. It gives me a feeling of having been left hanging. So I juggle my work schedule; ignore the dishes, the laundry, and the cats; and stay up far past my bedtime for however many days it takes to churn out a complete first draft.

To my mind, second drafts – at least for rhyming stories – are much less painful.

Roughin' It

Lori's View

I find the rough draft to be insanely difficult. Gail Carson Levine, fairy tale teller extraordinaire, describes the rough draft process as sitting in a cave, scraping condensation off the walls into a cup. Then waiting for the condensation to build up again and scraping it off in a tedious, torturous cycle that can’t be made to go faster.

I identify with this. Probably because I don’t outline or anything before I start. Oh, sure, I write random scenes and maybe a character sketch or two. But I only like to write stories, not outline them or plan them. Much as I can’t stand this part of things, I thrive on the tension of not knowing what comes next.

I also have a lot of false starts. I can’t count how many story openings are stored on my computer. The cool thing is, once I know my characters well enough (after all that false starting business) they up and surprise me all the time, taking the story in directions I had no idea of before. This is when the story breathes for me. And why I enjoy revision so much more. Alas, I’m writing a rough draft right now and the walls of the cave are dry as a bone. A storm would be nice, anything to create some humidity in here.

First Drafts

Ann's view

I enjoy writing first drafts. Usually by the time I start, I’ve done character sketches, mapped the setting and outlined the novel. Sometimes I’ve written a few random scenes.

The first draft is unbridled creativity. It’s a time to get to know my characters, make new friends, create new enemies and discover what the novel is actually about.

Question of The Week

This week’s topic deals with process. Let’s talk about handling first drafts. How do you approach this and is it difficult or easy, relative to revision and the rest of your process?

What to Read --April

I am striving to control myself in my role as book reviewer because really, I want to simply recommend it to everyone. It's important right now that everybody reads it because of a recent development and extension of this work, which I'll discuss below. But for now, suffice it to say, despite its age, this book is as important as ever.

Last Chance to See is a little-known book written by none other than Douglas Adams. Even big fans--slavish fans!--of his work don't know about this book, which was written after his work on a BBC series in the 1980's.
Why should you read it? Because it's one of the funniest dang books ever written, and it's Non-Fiction! Not only is it nonfiction, it's about endangered animals from around the world, which could be depressing, but Adams is perfect for the reporting. I could even argue that it is FUNNIER than his Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Okay, now for the new development: Stephen Fry (yes, of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves & Wooster stories, adapted by Clive Exton as a British television series) is filming a sequel with Mark Carwardine, the co-writer of Last Chance to See, which will re-visit all the animals which Carwardine and Douglas Adams wrote about oh-so-long-ago.
Read the book. Watch the upcoming series. Laugh, but also learn about our endangered animals!

Grammar Guidance for your Angst-Ridden Inner Rebel

a writing resource book review by Debbie

I love words. I love their sounds. Their shapes. Their meanings. Weaving words together into phrases, sentences, and more brings me great pleasure. I find joy in simile and metaphor. In alliteration and onomatopoeia. In rhythm and in rhyme.

But I find no joy in grammar.

This may be a surprising revelation. By general disposition, I’m a rules and regs sort of person; so you might think that the ins and outs of grammar would appeal to me. But they don’t. Like many people, grammar makes me anxious: I know that I make a lot of grammatical mistakes, so I figure it’s only a matter of time before my errors are pounced upon as proof-positive that my writer credentials are a sham. This in turn brings out my rebellious side (ah, you didn’t know I had one of those! but yes, I do; inside me is a quiet, small, and well-mannered rebel, but a rebel nonetheless), and I find myself muttering, “Who made these stupid rules anyway!?!”

Enter June Casagrande to the rescue.

Author of Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies and the recently released Mortal Syntax, June is a funny and friendly companion on the rough and rocky road of grammar. Both of her books are hilarious in a laugh-out-loud sort of way, but both books are also chock-full of highly accessible grammar and usage guidance. By educating and entertaining simultaneously, June’s books help to eliminate the heavy fear factor that so many of us carry into our otherwise enjoyable writing endeavors. I consider June to be a leader in the long overdue movement to take back the streets from the grammar snobs. If she’s successful, we’ll all become better writers in the process.

So go take a look at her books. She also has a blog, called Conjugate Visits, which is fun -- and enlightening -- as well.

A couple of quick side notes: Since I’m posting this review on Write Brainers, a children’s writers’ blog, I should probably point out that June’s books aren’t kids’ books. But they are great resources for writers, as well as for the general public at large (particularly anyone who lives in fear of being ticketed by a grammar cop). Also, it probably goes without saying, but humor is very subjective, so what I find hilarious won’t necessarily appeal to every reader. But I for one love Grammar Snobs and Mortal Syntax, and I can’t wait to read whatever June Casagrande writes next.