On Edge

It's almost the end of August and I'm feeling twitchy because a few big things are looming on the horizon. For one, the beginning of a new school year is approaching and I'm nervous about it. This year the geniuses in charge of scheduling have decided to place another librarian and I in three different libraries! I told them it was pure madness, which it is. Fragmenting the program like this will make it a managerial nightmare. There's also the issue of collection development, learning student names (always a challenge for me) and trying to keep the automated systems up to date. Every year the company we use (Companion) updates and changes the rules for setting up the system and I spend an inordinate amount of time on the phone with them trying to figure it all out. It is not intuitive. Anyhow, when I protested, one of the principals told me I should try to approach it with a more positive attitude. Of course being a former gym teacher, she has no idea of what it takes to run a library. Okay, I'm a little pissed off. When the kids still aren't able to take out books after a month, maybe they'll give their brilliant plan a second thought.

My eldest son, Derek, is also leaving for Salt Lake City this Thursday to attend a violin making school - The Violin Making School of America. Right now the job situation out here is abysmal. He lost his job several months ago and hasn't been able to find anything else. Living on unemployment isn't exactly what he had in mind. It's like being in limbo. He also doesn't relish the idea of working at a desk in a cubicle. He wants to do something with his hands. Several people have suggested different graduate programs, but most of them lead to a job behind a desk. Blah.

I've discovered that many people have a kind of snooty attitude toward people who work with their hands, as if they suffer from some sort of mental impairment. I can only think that our public schools are partly to blame for this. In New York at least, most students are suppose to be on an academic track, as if all students are college material. Consequently, many of the high schools have done away with their tech programs (formally known as "shop"). Too bad, really, because as we know, many kids aren't college bound and those auto body, woodworking and robotic programs gave the nonacademic students some practical skills they could put to use in the real world as well as a place where they could shine. As my youngest has said many times before, there are different ways of being smart. Some people are good at tackling academics and others have a different sort of gift that schools seem to turn a blind eye to and that almost always means a gift for using one's hands.

Of course this is not to say that somebody can't be both good with his hands as well as academically bright. And why is it that schools hold athletes and musicians in higher regard than mechanics and woodworkers? We want good craftsmen, people who know what they're doing when they work on our car or build our furniture, but we do little to nurture those talents in our public schools.

Anyhow, all I know is that I will miss Derek but we'll be cheering him on wherever the road leads him. We have to put aside our yearning to help and let our kids find their own way in the world.

Out With Outlines

I've always told my students that when you open a book, you embark on a journey. Sometimes it's a brief jaunt of only 32 pages, but often the trip stretches out across 100, 200 or even as many as 700 pages. But the fun part isn't "The End". When you take a vacation, you look forward to adventure and fresh scenery. You're not thinking "When will this be over?" For me, writing fiction is like going on a journey, but without a well defined road map or a GPS or even reservations at some motel or bed & breakfast inn along the way.

I've heard the arguments for outlining a book before writing it and they make a lot of sense. An outline will keep you on track. An outline will help you cover everything important. An outline will ensure you make it through to those two big words, "The End". And granted, those are strong arguments when you're trying to complete a WIP, especially if it's your first. Perhaps I should have outlined my novel before I started working on it. Then I might have finished it by now.

But alas, when it comes to writing a work of fiction, I prefer to see where my story leads me. I know my ultimate destination - that's important. But if I stick to the outline, a character waiting in the wings may never have an opportunity to make his debut and it's possible he or she may have something very important or fascinating to say or some pivotal task to accomplish to add depth or an element of mystery to the plot. It's also possible that an important sub theme - one that I was totally unaware of - may never come to fruition. I enjoy the surprising twists in the road, the steep rises and sudden dips, the startling bumps and unexpected side trips. Without a well defined map, sometimes the journey to "The End" takes a little longer than expected. But man, what a trip!

The Magic Thief, Lost, by Sarah Prineas

In Sarah Prineas's fast-paced debut book, The Magic Thief, a crafty street urchin named Conn filches Nevery the Wizard’s magic tool – his locus magicalicus – yet manages to do the unheard of-survive. Intrigued, Nevery takes Conn in as his apprentice and ultimately Conn solves the mystery of the city of Wellmet’s weakening magic.

Prineas’s equally exciting sequel, Lost, picks up a few months later. Here we once more meet up with Conn and Nevery the Wizard, as well as Benet, Nevery’s muscle man (and perhaps Prineas’s most unique character). We also become reacquainted with the duchess’s daughter, Lady Rowan, and the sinister Shadowmen that turn people into stone.

Again, Wellmet’s magic is waning and the Shadowmen have returned in increasing numbers. Having lost his own locus magicalicus, Conn must resort to pyrotechnics, or fireworks, to speak with the magic that has always protected Wellmet. Nevery warns Conn that pyrotechnics are dangerous and forbidden. After all, they damaged his home, Heartstease. Undaunted and desperate to communicate with the magic the only way he can, Conn perseveres until his hopes are literally blown to pieces and disaster ensues, injuring somebody near and dear to him.

As expected, the magisters of Wellmet banish Conn from the city so he sets off for the city of Desh in search of the source of Wellmet’s weakening magic and the mystery of the Shadowmen. He is not disappointed.

Lost is as fast-paced and exciting as Prineas's first book, The Magic Thief, albeit slightly darker. As a streetwise, rough-edged character with a big heart, Conn makes an intriguing hero with a distinctive voice. Although gray bearded Nevery the Wizard is something of a stock character, he makes an apt mentor for Conn, and Lady Rowan, the duchess's daughter, serves as a strong-willed, sword-wielding foil for Conn.

The setting is as dark, intriguing and fully realized as the story line and the characters.

Antonio Javier Caparo's small black and white illustrations complement and enhance the story's mysterious atmosphere. In addition, Prineas includes some of Benet's favorite recipes, some notes on sword craft and a key to the runic alphabet used occasionally throughout the story.

Lost is a well-conceived story and artfully designed book for middle grade kids that leaves some room for the final book in the trilogy. If it's anything like the first two, it's certain to be a bumpy and enthralling journey.

A Poem From the Past

I've been sorting through my files lately and coming across lots of interesting, half-forgotten stuff - some that I found stashed inside boxes as we were cleaning out my mom's house a few years ago. Lately I've been trying to pull together some poetry for a critique. I believe this is one of the first poems I ever wrote. I was 12 at the time.

Life From A Lion's Point of View

Trapped in a world that's hardly all my own,
People look at me and I groan.
Through metal bars and over stone walls,
I get some very uninvited calls.
People gape and stare and look
At what they could see in an animal book.
I'm bombed with peanuts, which I hate,
And I got stuck with some dumpy, ugly mate.
I've never snored, for I've never slept.
You wouldn't either if you lived where I'm kept.
The water is scummy and filled with bacteria
And the apes next door drive me into hysteria.
Every night at twelve o'clock
The laughing hyena gives every beast a shock!
Oh how I wish I could be released
And then maybe - just maybe- I could get some peace.

Easier Things Than Writing?

I have neglected this poor blog for far too long now. For a while - longer than I expected - I had a miserable case of the flu. It was going around the school and I managed to come down with a nasty, gut wrenching case that wiped me out for nearly 3 weeks. Aargh!

Anyhow, I'm better now and back to working on my WIP which I'm determined to finish this summer. Some days, though, writing is sooo hard. I can think of lots of things that are easier. Here are a few:

1. Weeding the garden. Over the past few days, I've pulled up buckets of weeds. While my garden looks much neater, my novel is still here, waiting for me. The weeds will grow without me, but my novel? Nope.

2. Watering the plants. All my houseplants are well-watered and fertilized. In addition, I've deadheaded my planters full of petunias out on the deck.

3. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. I love the puzzle, but when I'm trying to finish a novel, I really should ignore it.

4. Playing online Scrabble. I've beaten the maven three times over the past 4 days at the second highest level. Yippee! This does nothing for my novel.

5. Going to the gym and lifting weights. Something about torturing myself makes me feel a little less guilty.

6. Paying all my bills. What am I,crazy? I mean, I always pay my bills, but who ever heard of paying them weeks in advance?

So, now I MUST get back to work on my WIP. It will not write itself. As Jane Yolen says, you must practice BIC (butt in chair).

Michael Jackson Best Dance Moves

You can say what you want about Michael Jackson, but there was never any question about his raw talent. As a kid, he was a kind of child prodigy. I still have one of his record albums - Off the Wall - which I played over and over again. It always managed to get me motivated, no matter how tired I was feeling. His music was energetic and toe tapping, but I was always more impressed by his incredible, innovative dance moves. Nobody could dance quite like Michael. I hope his poor tortured soul has finally found some peace.

Publishing Date

I and the members of my critique group, The Poet's Garage, will be having an anthology of our poems published by Marshall Cavendish on July 15, 2010. That's next year! The title is officially, "An Eyeball in My Garden: and Other Spine-Tingling Poems. Marshall Cavendish is still negotiating for an illustrator but will let us know who it is just as soon as everything is finalized.

This is a dream come true for most of us. Never did I think that the first book I had published would be a group project. How fun! Perhaps this project will open a few doors for us, although I won't be holding my breath on that.

In the meantime, I plan to push through to the end of my novel this summer. Psychologically, I need to get it finished. It's been weighing on me. So, I have my summer plans cut out for me. Onward ho!