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THERE IS A CRACK IN EVERYTHING
“Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
Leonard Cohen, from “Anthem.”
I’ve been a fan of Leonard Cohen’s for years. He is one of North America’s (Canada’s) treasured poets/singer-songwriters—truly, another wonder of the world. All you have to do is read/listen to the lyrics of his song, Hallelujah, to realize this. (I recommend the version by k.d. lang on her album, “Hymns of the 49th Parallel.”)
And since this is National Poetry Month here in the
When does one call a halt to the seeking of the perfect word? When does the writer say, “it’s not perfect, but it will have to do?” A difficult question for most poets and for writers of children’s picture books, as each word in a poem or picture books needs to do a lot of work. Each word needs to be considered, read-aloud for its musicality and weighed against the other few words. Cut it, or not? Is the piece finished, yet? Truly, it can be maddening!
(Me–resorting to cutting up a manuscript to see if I can make something
out of the mess!)
Take, for example, this quote from Oscar Wilde: “I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again.” This is classic tongue-in-cheek Wilde, but still . . . we writers have been known to do just that. I’ve been known to put in and take out a word repeatedly. Some days it may sound right, other days, not. And in the case of picture books, when working with only 300 words . . . which are the right 300? Assuredly, our agents and editors want us to find that bon mot . . . to get our manuscripts polished and as close to perfection as we can. In fact, this desire to have a “perfect offering” can trip us up—to the point of writer’s block, to the point of taking years to finish, to the point of getting mired in research, and even to the point of never starting. The truth of the matter is, what we imagine in our minds can never be completely realized, can never be perfected.
OK. That’s a place to start. If we can accept that perfection is darn near impossible to achieve some of the stress is lessened right away. (I bet many of the writers we place on the highest pedestals might argue with the so-called perfection of their work. I bet most secretly wish they could tweak their texts a little, years after a piece has made its debut.) Now, let’s see if I can make it even less stressful . . .
The above makes perfect sense, because Perfection with a capital “P” is—much like Beauty—in the eye of the beholder. So what may seem an imperfect offering to me may seem a perfect one to you. Isn’t that liberating? What it comes down to is that there is no such thing as perfection. So why worry about it?
Whew! Doesn’t it feel like you just loosened your belt a few notches. Relief.
Does this mean we shouldn’t try to polish to perfection? Of course not. All our readers—and especially children—deserve the best we can write. But realize that writers are mortal. Our bodies age with the passing of days. We need to revise, search for the bon mot . . . get it as close as we can, within a reasonable amount of time. Then we should let fresh eyes help us—our critique partners, our agents and our editors. It is often a person at a little remove from the creating who can more easily say, “It’s done.” That little bit of distance, makes it easier to see the turnings of a truly fine piece of work, and does not magnify the insignificant rough patches.
My mother, a master quilter, once told me that a bit of imperfection is simply the beauty of “craft” in handicraft shining through. So when I work at my wordcraft, I take her at her word . . . after all, she’s my mother.
I leave you with these lines, again, from Leonard Cohen. Perhaps they will be of some help when you are stuck. Take joy in what you can offer. Don’t worry about the cracks; bask in the light. And happy Poetry Month!
“Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
Leonard Cohen, from “Anthem.”
Ciao!
Shutta
Posted by: shutta @ 7:50 pm
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)*
“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”
I awoke this morning with that famous opening line from Daphne Du Maurier’s REBECCA in my drowsy head. I’m not sure why. I haven’t reread it for some time, nor have I seen the movie lately. Perhaps it is because I am working hard on a draft of a new children’s book that is written in ballad verse form. (Quatrains of lines written in iambic tetrameter followed by a line of iambic trimeter.) After some thought, I realized that this line from REBECCA is perfect iambic hexameter. Maybe it is the musicality of the line that helps to bring it so easily to mind?
Perhaps it is simply because REBECCA is one of those books I reread periodically. We all have our favorites that can be grabbed from the shelf for another read if we don’t have something new we want to dip into—especially when traveling. For me, it is especially when flying. I need a world I can cling to. I need familiar ground. It keeps me from thinking about falling out of the sky. These books serve the same function when I am troubled here on terra firma. In times of stress, I return to certain titles to calm my mind and help me drift off to sleep at night . . . perchance to dream.
Each of these books has a very strong sense of place and mood. When I’m within their pages, I never doubt the solidity of the world I’m in—even if the character is dreaming. And isn’t the rootedness of place one of the earliest senses? As babes we do not want to careen into the unknown . . . we want the security of being held. These books never fail to hold me.
What draws you back again, and again, to certain books? Here is a dreamy sampling from some of my favorites:
Paul swallowed, suddenly aware of the moisture in his mouth,
remembering a dream of thirst. Frank Herbert: DUNE.
. . . it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her. Jane Austen: NORTHANGER ABBEY.
There he wandered long in a dream of music that turned into running water. J.R.R. Tolkein: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING.
Sleazy stadiums. Sleazy fans. Sleazy water buckets. Curveballs, and bus fumes, and dreams . . . Jerry Spinelli: MANIAC MAGEE.
And when their voices/faded away/it was as quiet as a dream./We walked on toward the woods . . . Jane Yolen: OWL MOON.
And now . . . to drop, once again, into sweet dreams . . . after a happy month on the road for National Reading Month!
Sh-h-h-h-h,
Shutta
*Annie Lennox, Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)
Some news: I rewrote a recent blog of mine: “Huddling Against the Wall” and it was published as a magazine piece at: http://www.ecurrent.com/view_article.php?id=1568 . It’s about violence in the schools, and one small step we can take.
It also serves as my chance to give kudos to all the great teachers of the world who do so much to keep our kids safe, and to protect and nuture that small space of time in their lives that we call childhood.
Ciao!
Shutta
Mama’s “. . . got a brand new bag!”*
How little it takes to make this writer truly happy! I have found Nirvana . . . or maybe, to be honest I should say, my back has found Nirvana.
Every March hundreds, if not thousands of authors take to the roads as they visit schools, libraries, and talk at conferences—all in honor of National Reading Month. So every March carts, suitcases, rolling backpacks and briefcases are loaded with books, handouts, stuffed animals, laptops, PA systems, and other assorted equipment any well-prepared author, or illustrator, needs. For years I’ve used a large artist portfolio for the big flat items and a rolling backpack with lots of mesh bags and zipper compartments for all the books and printed items. (With various assorted smaller bags for the PA system, my laptop, etc.)
But the small wheels of backpacks do not make for the easy conquering of curbs. I’ve often had to lift the heavy thing over or around curbs. So I have been on the constant lookout for the perfect carry-all; big enough to hold lots of books with big wheels and lots of exterior pockets for assorted stuff. I think I finally found it!
In fact, I am so excited I want to tell everyone and anyone—and the price was great! $50, at Lowes. (It even looks good—not like one of those folding milk crates.) You could probably get it at Home Depot as well. It was the inspiration of my husband, who now will have less backrubs to administer. (Unless I lie about that need!)
Anyway, it’s a wheeled carpenter’s tool bag. Even the handle is tall enough—why do they make most handles too short? Here are the pictures. It’s black and yellow heavy-duty duck cloth with large wheels (see the pictures below), lots of space for everything. There is room for my PA system, 10 of my books, folders for teacher material, copies of manuscript drafts, several stuffed animals, a goody box, my rainstick, my thunder-maker, extension cords, markers, water bottles, and other odds and ends. And it’s wide enough to put my laptop in as well.
Ahh . . . heaven! I loaded it and spent most of the day just admiring it, and taking pictures of it. Its specs: the handle raises to a whopping 44 inches! The main compartment is 19 inches across, the back of it rises to 17 inches, the front to 10 inches. (It slopes downward so there is easy access to everything inside. And you don’t have to zip the cover up if you have something really big that needs to stick out.) It is 10 inches across from front to back. 3 pockets across the front with Velcroed flaps. Four open pockets inside, two net pockets on the short sides outside. Lovely!
As I said, it takes so little to make this writer happy—a good carry-all and a thoughtful spouse. Hey, honey . . . do I still get my backrubs? After all, I still have to carry the artist’s portfolio for the flat poster board items, my purse, my . . .
Enjoy!
Shutta
*(a la James Brown’s “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.”)
(Below you can see the front. The large wheels are about 1/2 the height of my water bottle. The fox fits in, too!)
(The height of the handle is about the same height as my kitchen spiggot! 44 inches high.)
Lessons from the Cat:
(Styx, “Helping” me write by holding down my manuscript. HAH!)
Styx is old—not as ancient as the river, mind you, but old—19. That’s about 92 in human years! We’ve promised him a birthday party with all the trimmings (tuna cake and whipped cream frosting) if he makes it to 20—96 in our years. I have no doubt that he’ll make it. He’s deaf, but still spry. His nose and eyes work well. And I know he’ll make it, because “keeping on keeping on” is part of his daily routine—in other words, he’s stubborn as all get-out!
Every morning, between 6 and 8, depending upon the season, he wakes up and bellows stentoriously for us to hop to the daily tasks. First we have to run fresh water into the bathroom sink for him to drink (failing that, he gulps from the toilet and we have to wait in line for the use of it), then we have to put a few crunchy tooth-cleaning snacks in his dish. After those are eaten, we let him out for a few minutes. (Yes, believe it—or not, he’s an indoor/outdoor farm cat!) When he returns, we must follow him upstairs to settle into our respective office chairs in front of our computers—and work. Thus begins his long day of lying in our laps or next to our computers, snoozing and dreaming.
Me? I grouse and growl at him to hush-up in the morning, as he makes his circuit of the bed. If one of us fails to rouse quickly enough to suit him, he plumps himself down on a chest and bellows into a sleepy face—tickling with his whiskers for good measure. Then my husband and I drag ourselves out of bed. We grumblingly make sure he has his fresh water and a few crunchy munchies. Then, if we do not head upstairs to our offices, he sits at the top of the stairs and yowls crazily until we do.
That is when I stare up at him and curse under my breath. Somehow, he knows that the manuscript on my computer needs work, school visit contracts need to be sent out, calendars need to be consulted, letters need to be written, and revisions need to be attacked yet again. Yes, I curse him . . . especially when all I want to do is to catch up on a Smithsonian Channel program I taped the night before.
But I know, he’s right. It is adherence to healthy rituals (if you don’t count drinking out of the toilet), and right work lovingly done each day that makes for a well-lived and long life. It has been his job over these past 19 years to remind me of this . . . no matter how much I want to goof-off for the day.
So . . . I think it only fair to warn you that if I should live to 96, you must throw me a party. (We’ll forego the tuna cake, if you don’t mind.) However, we can eat whipped cream, drink water from the spiggot and raise a toast to his, by then, long-departed spirit. We’ll celebrate all the books and the good work that have come into being through Styx’ stubborn, and loyal, assistance.
May your 2008 be filled with right work lovingly done, and a companion to dream by your side!
Ciao!
Shutta
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Last fall I spent a week “down South” visiting schools and speaking at the Tennessee Association of School Librarians’ conference. What fun! These are folks after my own heart.
While I was there an incident occurred that brought back memories. One of the schools was recently awarded monies and was more-than-comfortably equipped with all sorts of technology . . . including a small TV studio that produced live streaming video for their school’s website as well as a morning TV program for the students in each classroom. It was wonderful to be a part of all that—to watch the kids rehearse, patch in weather reports, use the cameras, the sound and video equipment, the teleprompter, etc. Fantastic!
I was to be interviewed for the program. However, partway through rehearsal the principal called an emergency “weather drill.” We all dutifully lined up along a safe interior wall, knelt, and bent forward with our hands over the backs of our heads. This was much as I remembered doing when practicing tornado drills in my elementary school in Michigan during the 50s and 60s.
What the kids did not know about this particular drill was that it had been called due to the threatening outburst of a student with special needs. The principal had no choice but to go into a security mode. The children, I and the librarian, were very quiet while we huddled together on the floor and waited as a special team made a sweep of the school searching lockers and backpacks. Some twenty minutes later, when we got the “all clear,” several students wondered aloud why their bags had been checked. The librarian handled questions promptly and with little fuss; soon we were back on task and finishing the TV program.
Later, she told me more about what had happened and that this had not been the first time they’d had an “incident.” This made me reflect upon my own school days. Those fire drills, tornado drills, and—in retrospect—inanely optimistic nuclear attack drills (“Duck and cover.”), were integral to my learning how unsafe it was to live in the world. They were a bit of coarse grit scratching the memories of chatty days and sunlit playgrounds.
Perhaps it’s more unsafe for children today; who can say? It seems to me that childhood has always been a dangerous realm. From the hardships of the frontier to the threat of the Cold War, it’s always been hard being a kid. Today’s headlines speak of the ease with which children can pick up weapons—bearing witness to this.
But, oh, how hard it is to be the knowing adult who cares for, worries about and treasures those kids!
As I unclenched my hands and arms, and tried to unfold my frozen knees to rise once more into the innocence of laughter sprouting up around me, I could only think—again—how much I admire and respect the hard work done by the staff of our schools to protect that tiny sliver of time in the lives of our children that we call childhood. Bravo!
Ciao!
Shutta
Explore the universe–as in the BigUniverse!
Hey, all!
You may not be aware that I also blog for Big Univese a fascinating website that is dedicated to linking kids and families to the books, issues, and concerns of our global village. It’s a growing company that’s looking to add new features and fun things for its users. In the meantime, they feature eight bloggers who blog specifically on global issues, parenting, health, books, and the craft of writing for kids. Parents, teachers, and writers will find my articles about books, writing and the writer’s life as well as blogs by Rick Walton, Adjoa Burrowes, Rose Beitler, Betsy Chasse, Motherreader, Greg McCracken, and Eve Prang Plews.
So . . . drop on by. If you’re at one of my blogs, you’ll find the link on the sidebar at the left. It looks like this:
(If you’re at my homepage . . . it will be coming soon to the “Links Page.” ) In the meantime go to http://www.biguniverse.com/ !
Happy reading!
Shutta
Posted by: shutta @ 10:50 am
Congratulations to all the recent children’s books award winners–I was glad to see so many fine and deserving books get recognition. I do want to especially give a big hug to my friend, Lisa Wheeler, for a Theodor Seuss Geisel Award illustration honor for her book JAZZ BABY! It was illustrated by R. Gregory Christie. Yay, JAZZ BABY! You can find the complete listing of ALA-ALSC awards here: American Library Association awards.
I put reserves on all the titles I haven’t read yet . . . so now I have to get reading! I hope you will, too! And I hope to post comments about the books I’ll be reading soon. So, stay posted.
Happy winter reading. (Stay warm.)
(Me . . . all bundled up for this Michigan winter weather. Hah!)
Shutta
My Un-naming Day
Shutta is my real first name and Crum is my real last (maiden) name. [My husband has a boring last name, so I kept Crum—what else goes with Shutta?] It is not an ethnic name, or derived from any language other than the language of childhood. It was my father’s nickname. As the first grandchild, there was arguing about my name when I was born. So Dad said, heck . . . maybe he’d just name me Shutta, after himself. He did, and I love my name. It was the best gift I ever got.
Today, Dad forgot it.
Not just in passing. Dad has Alzheimer’s. Somehow, though, I never thought he’d forget who I was, or forget my name. You see, it’s been a proud story for him. He’s told it countless times in these last few years—how he, Mom, and the doctor had to put their heads together to come up with the spelling. Of course, he never remembered having just told it every time he repeated it.
Each day with Dad these past couple of years have been startling, upsetting, and sometimes sweet beyond belief as he recalls the days when I, or my siblings, were babies. He’s past the suspicious, angry period of the disease and into the phase of seeing each day anew. Wherever he goes, it’s a field trip. Each time he re-sees something for the “first” time, there is a smile on his face, a question on his lips—“Oh! How long have you lived here?” “Twenty-three years, Dad.”
He’s a born storyteller and loves having an audience to hear his tales—sometimes strangely elaborated upon with each new telling. Yesterday, Mom and Dad came for a visit. Dad told me he’d been shot while in the army and sent home to die. (He hadn’t been.) I’ve heard many tales of his service days, but not this one. I smiled and said, “That’s one I haven’t heard before.” It was the perfect opening for another story. He happily obliged his daughter.
The next morning, he asked me who I was.
Somehow, I hadn’t thought it would come to this. He had occasionally forgotten my sister and my brothers. I’d commiserated with them when it hurt. I told them that it could come and go. He might remember them at times, as well. He does. It’s not consistent. He has his more forgetful days, and other days during which he seems to be more with us.
But . . . I thought I was different, being his first child—his namesake. He’d always had my name on the tip of his tongue when he’d tripped over the others, even my mom’s. But, I am not different. The disease honors no off-limits. With Alzheimer ’s disease, there is no place where something special can be safe.
After they left, I went outside into the winter thaw we have each year here in
Later, Mom called to tell me they’d made it home safely. When I asked how Dad was, she reported that he was doing fine. He’d just said, “what nice people” they had visited.
What does this have to do with writing? Not a lot, except to note that if we honor the changes in our lives and live fully in each moment, it might be possible to pass on whatever bits of wisdom we can glean by telling the truth in our art. It’s a symbiotic relationship—we feed art truth, and art nurtures us in return.
Shutta
The Author’s Wall at Lincoln Elem. School:
(My “Go Fast” Shoes)
I just got some pics of my visit to Abraham Lincoln Elementary School in Kingsport, Tenn. from the wonderful, award-winning librarian, Brenda Moriarity. I thought I’d share this one of me signing their author’s wall. I’m not an artist like some of the writer-artists they’ve had sign. But I held my own. (And had a great time there!) Thanks, Lincoln for making me feel so welcome!
Signing the wall with a couple of friends nearby! Thanks, Lincoln for the fun day!
Your friend,
Shutta Crum
Well . . . we’ve ended one year and begun another. Things are starting to settle down from the holidays, so I was thinking about endings and I thought I’d post this piece from a parenting, books, and children’s health website I blog for called Big Universe. I generally post about the writing life there. So I thought this post about endings would also be of interest here. Perhaps I’ll add one soon on beginnings. Enjoy!
A Little Justice . . . a Little Mercy
A favorite quote of mine from G. K. Chesterton is, “Children are innocent and love justice, while we [adults] are wicked and prefer mercy.”
I came across this quote while I was writing my first book, WHO TOOK MY HAIRY TOE? There is a definite bit of justice at the end of that book—a bit of justice I find most of my elementary school age readers love as I present this book during school visits. I think this highlights an important thing to remember about young readers—they often see the world in black and white.
The other day I was watching a girl of about four helping her father in the grocery store. They were in the check-out lane ahead of me. Father could do nothing right. “No,” said the girl. “This is how it goes. Mama puts all the cans together . . .” I could tell that no matter what he did Dad was not gonna win, because there was a definite right and wrong way to unload the grocery cart in this child’s mind.
I keep this thought at the forefront of my mind when I work on the endings of my picture books. Young children are still learning about themselves and their place in the world. For them, the good guys win and the bad guys lose. That’s just the way it is—very black and white.
It is only as kids grow older that they venture into realms of gray with some degree of confidence. By middle school, more open-ended conclusions are acceptable. Readers at this age are learning that life does not always obey the rules, it’s messy. The bad guys sometimes get away with it—at least for the moment.
However, the unwritten rule for writers of fiction for middle schoolers and younger “young adults,” is there needs to be some ray of hope woven into the story—even if it’s just a flicker of a smile, a hand clasped, or a fist pumped. The bad guys, we assume—after the story has finished—do not get away with it for long.
We (if you’ve got a middle-schooler living in your brain, as I do) need to be on the winning side. After all, we are often not the besparkled popular kids in school, nor the ones chosen first for sports teams—if we’re chosen at all. Reading at this point in our lives is important for its ability to empower us. It seeds our dreams, making us more than mere middle school losers.
By the time we’re entering adulthood, we can read, and love, books with no ending whatsoever. We understand that, yeah, some of the bad guys do get off. And there are some things we are just never going to know. Scarlett and Rhett—who can say?
Hopefully, as adults, we have grown out of seeing the world in terms of black and white. Hopefully, we can embrace the chaotic Jackson Pollock-colored world where, if we’re lucky, we pull out a ribbon of color and go bravely forth armed with a sense of right tempered by mercy, molded by experience, and fired with a passion to always be open to another’s point of view.
And point of view? Really, isn’t that what all books are about? In the end, the pen is always mightier than the sword.
Happy
Shutta
YAY! 
Word has come this week that my newest book, A FAMILY FOR OLD MILL FARM, has been nominated for a Cybil Award. These are awards given by internet book blogger-reviewers. It’s a pretty free and open process with many voices chiming in. Here’s a bit about the award from the Cybils site:
“Like all revolutions, this one started small, with a single post on a blog devoted to children’s literature. The Newbery Awards seemed too elitist and the Quills, well, not enough so. Was there a middle ground, an annual award that would recognize both a book’s merits and popularity?
The Cybils found that middle ground. The public nominates their favorite children’s books from 2007 in seven categories: Picture Books; Non-fiction Picture Books; Middle Grade fiction; Poetry; Young Adult fiction; Non-fiction (YA/MG); and Graphic Novels. . .
. . . a nominating committee reads ALL the titles in a given category. After nearly two arduous months, this committee winnows the nominees to five finalists. A second committee of bloggers considers the shortlist and, after much debate, chooses the best of the best for 2007. “
So, here’s to families expecting babies, looking for new homes, and finding dreams fulfilled!
Hugs and happy holidays to all of you!
Shutta
I just returned from a week in which I visited two fantastic elementary schools–Lincoln and Washington, and then spoke at the state School Librarian’s conference (TASL) in Franklin. And, wow! Those Tennessee librarians and teachers are wonderful! They are bright, funny, and “huggy.” (They certainly know how to make someone feel at home.)
Here’s a couple of pics from the George Washington Elem. School. The librarian there, Patty Williams, and her assistant Nancy Williams, have a great group of kids who help out in the library–as does the award-winning Lincoln librarian, Brenda Moriarity. Also, both schools have author walls in the libraries–walls signed and illustrated by the various visiting authors. How cool is that?
At the conference, I was overwhelmed–and very happy–that the sessions were so well-attended!
And for those of you who were interested in where I got my cat shoes: you can find the link to the online supplier here at: http://www.instepdrmartens.com/tredairsandals.htm .
Happy Thanksgiving All!
I give thanks that there are such caring
people in the world.
Shutta Crum
Hey, All!
I’m excited to post that there is a new interview with me (including pics) about writing A FAMILY FOR OLD MILL FARM (Clarion, 2007). This picture book, with it’s interconnected dual plots, taught me a lot! It was well worth all the hard work of writing it. I just love the illustrations by Niki Daly–especially the pointy high heels worn by the Realtor!
The interview is posted at award-winning writer, Cynthia Leitich Smith’s blog (soon to be archived at her site). It’s at this link: Interview with Shutta. Or you can go to http://cynleitichsmith.livejournal.com/34793.html . Enjoy!
Keep writing.
Ciao! Shutta
“Com’ on in! The Water’s Fine.”
(Excerpted by permission. Interview conducted by author Toni Buzzeo.)
I recently read an online interview that accompanies a new reader’s theater version of my book, MY MOUNTAIN SONG. I realized that a section of the interview might make a good blog post as it addresses the difference between writing picture books and novels. I’ve done both . . .
Toni Buzzeo: You have written many kinds of books over the years, including a wonderful middle grade novel, Spitting Image. Please reflect on the differences between writing a shorter narrative book like My Mountain Song and a novel.
Shutta Crum: I’ve written a number of picture books over the past few years, two novel manuscripts, and I’m currently working on a third novel. What I find is that there are two very different processes, and my emotional response is different for each.
With picture books it feels more like solving a puzzle. How can I get this, and this, and this, into very few words? If the text is in verse, there are the added constraints of rhyme, meter, and pattern. I have even been known to take scissors and cut-up the stanzas, rearrange them, and then rewrite connecting lines. Finally, I cut to the point that I feel something triumphant in my chest if I can find just one more “the” to delete. I use more of the problem-solving side of my brain with a goal of getting it all into the sleekest lines I can. Thereby, lots of the story remains for the illustrator to depict. It feels quick and fun, and like a satisfying splashy romp through a sprinkler on a hot day.
With a novel, I feel like I am jumping into a warm lake. I am overcome with the need to kick my feet, keep my head above the water, and keep swimming. I need to reread all I’ve written since the last time—or a goodly part of it. I need to do a lot of thinking rather than simply rearranging. I need uninterrupted time to visualize my characters into being—first he moves his hand to cover his eyes…then he raises his eyes and sees…what? What, then, does he say? What effect does it have on the character who hears what he says?
It’s altogether a slower, longer, deeper immersion. I am using more of the intuitive side of my brain as I figure out how to settle in for a marathon swim across a dark lake whose other side I can’t quite see from here. And when I get there, though it may not be anything like I expected, there is the exhausted satisfaction of having done it.
***
I hope you enjoyed these thoughts about writing—and jumping into the water that buoys up authors. (Hmm . . . no wonder I had a particular fondness for a certain giraffe bathing suit I had as a child. Prescience?) If you’ve a mind to, jump in and join me! The water’s wonderful.
[The reader’s theater version of MY MOUNTAIN SONG is in the Aug/Sept, 2007, issue of LIBRARY SPARKS magazine. The full interview is at their website under “Web Resources,” at www.librarysparks.com. Or click here for a direct link: Meet the Author: Shutta Crum . Author, and interviewer, Toni Buzzeo’s site.]
I hope your summer was filled with many splashy and creative days!
Shutta
Hey, All!
I just got my copy of the Library Sparks magzine (Aug./Sept. 2007). On page 23 there is a reader’s theater version of my book MY MOUNTAIN SONG, adapted by author Toni Buzzeo! Wow. It’s so much fun to see how a book keeps going in various forms. (This book was also recorded by Recorded Books.) Thank you, Toni, for doing a wonderful job . . . and I’d love to hear from any teachers or libraries who do a performance. (With photos, if you have them!)
In addition to the reader’s theater script, Library Sparks will publish an online interview that Toni conducted with me. You can find it at: http://www.librarysparks.com/ when the latest issue gets posted. Enjoy!
I need to do the happy book dance!
Shutta Crum
Launch Party Photos . . .
A FAMILY FOR OLD MILL FARM (Clarion, 2007) had a successful launch party at Nicola’s Books in
At Nicola’s Books:
Steve (Realtor extraordinare!) with me.
Photos of our old farm, 1985:
Our old farm today, 2007:
Fixing up the farm, 1985-2007:
Animals we’ve come to know and love at our farm:
The Seasons at our farm:
A double rainbow over the barn.
May you find your perfect place in the world!
Shutta
Yesterday I plowed through the mail that piled up while I was away in
Earlier I posted some thoughts about the questions kids ask at school visits. This letter made me stop and think about the questions kids ask when they write a fan letter.
Now, I don’t get tons of fan mail—not as I suppose J. K. Rowling must. However, I do get the occasional letter or email from a child or adult reader. Some are obviously class assignments sent by each student in the class. Most of these ask the same questions; the ubiquitous one being “Which of your books is your favorite?” (An impossible question to answer! I usually have to say something like “that’s like asking your parents which of their children they love the most.”) The truth is one invariably loves, rages at, despairs of, brags about, and feels embarrassed by the same manuscript—not unlike the various emotions endured while raising and living with children. I most often sum up this question as many authors do . . . it’s the one I’m currently writing.
The more interesting questions are those not dictated by teachers. These often bring laughs—and sustenance to authors. A favorite (and telling) question I got in a letter a few years ago was from a second-grader who wrote (summarizing this) I wasn’t in school when we read your book. I play tennis and I am very busy. So can you tell me if it is any good? HAH! I wanted to answer: how the heck should I know? I’m only the author . . . the LAST person of whom you should ask that! And no book is a waste of time to read; even disliked books hone our sense of discernment. I don’t remember my reply, but I’m sure I was much more circumspect. (However, I did have an itch to write this kid’s parents asking what is happening to his childhood if he’s too busy to read already? But that’s another soapbox topic . . .)
The question in yesterday’s mail was pure manna for a writer! After telling me how much she loved my novel, SPITTING IMAGE, my 6th grade fan asked: “Are you going to write more books or end your career now?” For her I had obviously reached some authorial pinnacle with its publication!
I have to admit that standing barefoot and sweaty in my unair-conditioned, littered, dining room on a 90O day feeling jet-lagged (and grumpy from having just opened the summer tax bill) . . . I felt like I had indeed climbed a treacherous pinnacle. Her so innocently asked question made me collapse amid the clutter, hug her letter to my chest, and laugh. It was proof . . . I had made it. Despite the many hours of second-guessing myself, of writing and deleting and rewriting, of waking up in the middle of the night worrying, of holding my quivering stomach in abeyance as I checked reviews . . . I reached a reader who will hold my book, for a precious while, in her heart. That’s what it’s all about.
Thank you, Kristie! It’s with such nourishment from fans that I can answer your question—a question I actually ask myself everyday as I face a blank page. Yes. I will write more books.
Ciao!
Shutta
The recent news out of BEA (Book Expo America) is of a new position.
“The Children’s Book Council, in concert with the Library of Congress, has unveiled plans to create a government-recognized post dedicated to supporting and promoting children’s literature. The new National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature . . .” is expected to be appointed by January of 2008. Apparently it will be a 2 year position similar to the U.K. Children’s Laureate post.
The plan is that it will “bestow an honor to someone who has contributed greatly to children’s books,” and it will “spread the word and raise awareness about the importance of reading and children’s literature at large.”
YAY! Other industries have spokespeople, why not children’s books? It’s about time we had someone to promote literature at a national level.
What are the criteria going to be?
A few press releases have said that as to criteria, “the Selection Committee will consider all nationally-prominent creators of fiction and non-fiction books for children and young adults in the
Some specifics I’d suggest to the Selection Committee:
An oeuvre of many titles over a period of at least ten years (Not a one-hit wonder.) I really like the intention of honoring someone who has “contributed greatly to children’s books.” This means someone with numerous books under his/her belt—a proven commitment to children.This would eliminate those who are primarily adult writers, or other celebrities who happened to try the children’s field. (Sorry, Jay, Jerry and Billy.)
A background of public speaking to and with children of all ages at schools/storytimes. That is, someone who likes kids enough to get out amongst them. (Not all children’s book writers/illustrators do—watch a few in action.)
A mindset of mentoring future children’s writers/illustrators who might one day be the official Ambassador. (By presenting at conferences, writing craft books, blogging, and generally mentoring new writers and illustrators.)
An advocate for children’s rights. That is, someone who goes above and beyond his/her particular craft to help shape the future of children’s literacy and nurture generations of thinkers.
On my list of finalist authors (fiction & non-fiction) and illustrators: (I’ve left off many of my favorite writers and illustrators–it is so hard to get it down to a reasonably-sized list!) Who would be on yours?
Avi
Judy Blume
Sandra Boynton
Chris Crutcher
Demi
Jules Feiffer
Sid Fleischman