Marcia Thornton Jones's Blog, page 211

Happy Fall! (Laurie Calkhoven)

For me, fall has come to mean book events. So many opportunities to connect with young readers. Fall’s a great time for writer’s conferences too—everyone’s sharpening their pencils, ready to begin a new school year even if we graduated thirty years ago.

Since mid-September I’ve been to book festivals in Princeton, Warwick, and Chappaqua. I’ve participated in two bookstore panels, and mentored at the always-fabulous Rutgers One-on-One conference.

Those of you who know me won’t be surprised to learn that I forgot to bring my camera to most of these events, or if I did, forgot to take pictures.  But I do have one, of the Chappaqua Children’s Book Festival. Lots of kids and parents meeting authors and illustrators and excited about books outside on a sunny day, changing leaves in the background.  What could be better than that?




Next up I’ll be at NYC’s Bank Street Bookstore on November 2 talking about “The Story Behind the Story” with a host of other authors, and then back in Princeton on November 10 to present a workshop on Scene Structure at New Jersey SCBWI’s Fall Craft Weekend.

And then, finally, I fly to Rochester for the Rochester Children’s Book Festival on November 16th.

Yay fall!

BETWEEN WRITERS: KURTIS SCALETTA

          

I’m lucky to live in a state with a host of wonderful writers, and one of those writers is Kurtis Scaletta, the author of Mudville, a Booklist Top 10 Sports Book for Youth, Mamba Point, which the New York Times Book Review called "entertaining and touching,” and The Tanglewood Terror, a Kids' Indie Next List Selection and winner of the Minnesota Readers' Choice Award.  His latest novel, The Winter of the Robots, has been called “a deft mix of middle school drama and edgy techno thrills” by Kirkus Reviews.  I’m delighted to talk craft with Kurtis at Between Writers, and I’m especially grateful for his good advice.
First, congratulations on your new book The Winter of the Robots.  It's always great to have new work in the world.  What excites you most about this latest novel?  
For me the most exciting thing is that it’s my first book to be set in my own neighborhood (which is Victory).
I'm curious about your pre-writing process.  How much of the book do you know when you begin? 
This has varied from book to book, but (for example) I wrote a series of lower middle-grade books where the concept was hammered out with the publishing company before a single line of the first book was actually written. For most of my longer books I really just start writing and see where it goes for a while, but then I start to structure – I find myself jotting down notes on the shape the book will take and the major turning points. I use something like a three act structure and work from there to chapter by chapter outlines. It’s not as orderly as it might sound.
So what are your goals in the first draft? 
I edit a lot more while drafting than a lot of writing teachers recommend. I want a draft I feel good about, something that I want to work with.
Any struggles?  
Probably the biggest struggle for me is continuity. I realize midway through a story that a character is going to school for the sixth day in a row, or that there’s no clear way to move to the next act. Hence my wont for planning. I use a calendar to chart the events of the book, take notes on what each character is doing and what they want to accomplish and make sure that explains their actions.
Do you share your work in-progress with anyone? 
Yes, absolutely. My wife reads the first draft, and my critique group sees the next one, and then my agent sees it. So by the time my editor sees it a lot of people have weighed in.
What writing advice would you give yourself and why?   
Don’t be afraid to change your practice. If you feel uninspired or are dealing with writers block, try doing something else. Get a bright green sharpie and a pad of giant unlined paper. If you listen to music, turn it off and just open a window and write to the noise outside. If you usually write fantasy, write something realistic. Or vice versa. This is the advice I’m following right now—writing a draft by longhand instead of on a computer, which precludes editing-while-writing.
What projects are ahead?
Among other things I recently wrote a picture book manuscript I think has legs… or rather, wheels.
Fantastic.  I look forward to it.     

October Sky by Naomi Kinsman (October Theme)

For October, the beginnings of an idea...

Born in the icy heart of January, the baby was anything but ordinary. 

Her exhausted mother took one look at that auburn mop of hair, those flashing amber eyes and insisted, “She’s not one of us, not a bit. Can’t call her Mary or Sara, and would never do to make her a Tucker.”

No one could change her mind, not even the midwife, who insisted that babies must share their family’s names. It was only proper, after all.

“This child dropped in from...” her mother reached out for her and drew her close. 

The baby wrapped her mother’s finger in her tiny fist.

“...From the October Sky.”

The others stared at the child, who had yet to make one sound.

“Write it down,” her mother said to the midwife. “This baby girl’s name is October Sky, and she’s destined for something bigger than this cabin, bigger than these snow-covered fields. Just you wait and see.”

photo credit: freyenberger via photopin cc

"Red, White & Black" Teen Author Panel in Alexandria, VA

For anyone who happens to be in the DC area, I'm going to be at on a Teen Author Panel entitled "Red, White & Black" next Friday, October 25th, at Hooray for Books in Old Town Alexandria from 6:30-8:00 PM.   
Here's the little blurb from the store:

Kathryn Erskine (Seeing Red), Anne Westrick (Brotherhood), and Kristin Levine's (The Lions of Little Rock) middle grade novels feature tough social events and courageous protagonists. This very exciting author panel will be moderated by Meg Medina, author of Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass.

I'm so honored to be speaking with the wonderful Kathryn Erskine (National Book Award for her amazing novel Mockingbird) and I can't wait to meet Anne Westrick and Meg Medina too.  If you're in town, please do come by and say hi!

October Skies Full of Poetry by Claudia Mills (October theme)

While some poets sing of the splendors of spring, for me autumn has always been the season for poetry. As first grade began, our teacher had us learn to write by copying these lines from the chalkboard:
Down, down, yellow and brown.Leaves are falling all over the town.
My father liked to quote Helen Hunt Jackson’s poem “October’s Bright Blue Weather,” although he misremembered it as beginning with James Whitcomb Riley’s famous opening line, “When the frost is on the punkin.” My own childhood favorite poem for October was Harry Behn’s wonderful Halloween poem with its haunting beginning:
Tonight is the night When dead leaves flyLike witches on switchesAcross the sky . . .
So in the spirit of this month’s theme, and because I can never resist the chance to write a poem, here is my own contribution to verse in honor of the October sky. (PS. I live in Boulder, Colorado, and we do start to get snow this month. In fact, it snowed last night!)
October Sky
A porcelain bowl of brilliant blueEtched with leaves of every hue.
The air so crisp and sharp and brightLike an apple’s tangy bite.
But sometimes clouds hang dark and lowSwollen with unfallen snow.
Dark comes early. Stars blink on:The Harp, the Eagle, and the Swan.
And look! Upon her trusty broomA witch soars past the harvest moon.

October Sky (October Theme, Sarah Dooley)

October morning
Chooses you from the meadow
To paint with sunlight.

Capture It: October Sky Theme by Ann Haywood Leal

It arrives for me every year, without fail, with the October sky.   With an electric automaticity, my hands reach for it on the shelf.  I can't help myself.  I have to read it.  And it has to be out loud for others to hear.

I'm not sure why it happens in October of every year, but I've decided it must be due to a spell.  It's book magic--the kind of overwhelming true-believer spell that sweeps you up in its gentle, but firm grip.  If you are reading this, chances are you've had it happen to you-- perhaps more than once.
I will start today.  It will be after lunch recess when tummies are full and the afternoon heaviness is starting to overtake their limbs.  But as soon as I read the first line, their eyelids will snap open.  Because they're about to meet him.  Charlie.  All genuine story believers know in their hearts that they could be Charlie.  Their full stomachs start to growl as they feel Charlie's hunger.  They shiver as Charlie tromps through the early snow.  Tears have fallen on desks with Charlie's disappointments.  
An audible gasp goes up to the October sky as the flash of golden ticket is glimpsed...my favorite part...soon to be their favorite.
Find your magic.  All you have to do is open the book and it will arrive without any bidding.

October Sky by Bob Krech

Greg carefully braked the car to a slow stop behind the high school. He cut the engine and the lights. They were tucked safe away from the street.
Pez opened the passenger door and got out. One smooth motion. Greg followed suit. They gently closed their doors. Greg decided not to lock it. It might save them a second when they got back if they didn't have to unlock the door. Pez would be proud of him for thinking of that. Details like that were important Pez said. They added up.
The parking lot was empty except for a beat up old pickup. The school maintenance truck.
Pez was striding purposefully across the gravel, small crunching sounds from under her sneakers.
Greg hustled alongside, looking left and right into the darkness. The lights that were usually on back here were out. Like Pez said they would be. All black back here. Tonight.
They moved around the corner of the building. They hadn't said a thing since Greg had picked Pez up from the 7-11. They had talked all afternoon about it, but when Pez got in the car back at the store all she did was nod.
Greg could feel his throat tightening. He wanted to talk. To talk over things one more time. Like the details. Not so much why and all that. That was done and talked through. But the details. So there'd be no mistakes. No miscues was how Pez said it sometimes.
 It was a soft night. That's how his father used to say it. Soft. Not cold, not warm. Soft. But there was sweat under his shirt. In the small of his back. He was hurrying along when Pez halted.
Greg froze in response. Was someone there? He listened. He waited for Pez to make the next move, but she was just standing there looking up. Greg swiveled his head in every direction. What if someone was there? They were screwed. That's what. Screwed royally. Or maybe not. They hadn't done anything. They could still just go back to the car and drive away.
He looked at Pez for guidance.
Pez had her head back, her delicate chin tilted up. She just stood with her dark eyes gazing up. Her long dark hair hanging straight back. Motionless. "The sky,"she said quietly.
Greg wasn't sure he heard right. "What?" he whispered.
Af first Pez said nothing and he hoped she wasn't mad. "The sky," Pez repeated in the low, soft tone she had.
Greg let his eyes wander up too.
"Everything's okay?" Greg asked. His voice was thin, strained.
Pez let her head rotate slowly still with her gaze fixed above. "More than okay. Look."
Greg allowed himself to look. Dark swirls and patches of silvery blue spread thin. The half moon was out now and had bathed everything in a soft sheen. Like a velvet. A velvet edge on everything. But Greg couldn't get any of this into words. He was not great with words. "Yeah," was all he could manage.
"Exactly," Pez was looking at him now and nodding. She understood what he meant. His one word. She understood him. She really did. A small smile. Small white teeth in the dark. "Exactly."
Pez looked up at that sky once more. "You know what that means?"
Greg only knew it was beautiful in a way. He had no idea what it might mean. He also knew if he waited, Pez would answer her own question. And she did. She reached out and lightly touched Greg's elbow. Electricity sang through his body.
Not that Pez noticed. She was scanning the big sweep of sky once more. "It's telling us that this is an excellent night to do this. You can feel that, right?"
Greg began nodding. "Yeah. Sure. I..."He tried to think of more to say.
But Pez had released his arm and was suddenly moving toward the back doors of the building.
Greg looked up one more time at the swirling October sky. He could see small stars and purples now. Deep stains of purple. He reached his right hand in his jacket pocket. He let his fingers wrap around the dark, hard shape. It was an excellent night to do this. Pez had said so. The sky had said so.
He hurried after her.

Showing Up for October Sky, October Theme by Tamera Wissinger

In preparation for this month’s October Sky theme, I recently set out to film sunset on the bay. I didn’t have a specific plan for what to write. In truth, I didn’t plan to film the sunset until I was on the dock doing it – let’s be honest, it’s not the most stunning sunset ever filmed. For some reason, though, I was drawn to the water, I-pad in hand. All I had to do was start to film and try to hold still while the Earth spun me away from the sun. So I did.  
Focused on my mission, I didn’t realize that a magnificent bird was about to fly into the scene until it was already there. I guarantee that if I had set out to film this heron, the shot would have been choppy – if I had been able to capture it at all. 


Listening to my intuition allowed me to simply be there to have that “right place/right time” moment.
Woody Allen is credited with saying, “Showing up is 80 percent of life.” I think it’s true, especially in art, and in particular in writing. It takes trust to show up to write even when we do have a plan, but especially when we don’t know what happens next. October Sky month was a good self-reminder to be an author who “shows up” and holds still while the Earth moves, ready to capture whatever images fly into view. I wish you all many opportunities to show up and create “right place/right time” moments of your own.

October Sky (Tracy Barrett)

It’s a commonplace among travelers that everything feels different when you’re far from home, but that when you look at the sky and see the same stars and the same moon, you realize that it’s all one planet and you’re really at home wherever you go—or something. The moon is the moon is the moon, no matter who’s looking at it and where they are.
As I write this I’m in extreme southeastern Italy, the region of Puglia (or Apulia), and even when I go up on the terrace and all I can see is the night sky, I still feel far from home. The moon is the moon and the stars are the stars, but the smells reaching up to me from the houses below are those of Italian dinner, and I can still taste the prosecco and olives I had a short time ago. I feel tired in that certain way that you feel only Pasticcioto: Filled with custard, served warm.
when you’re traveling, and my mind is full, not of my daily life at home, but of the Baroque church with the bizarre painting of St. Agatha (I'll spare you—not for the squeamish); with the taste of the espresso and the local pastry that I had for breakfast (and that I’ll have every morning from now on); with the flickering silver-green of the olive trees on the road to the sea this morning. Sant'Agata
What does this have to do with writing? I guess it’s that context is all. I can’t say, “She stepped outside and looked at the October sky” and have that mean the same thing to everyone who reads it. All experience, even one that humans have had in common for thousands of years, is filtered through the individual and her experiences—not just of that day, but of her whole life. Without a carefully imagined and constructed character, nothing—not a great plot, not a beautiful description, not a unique voice—is worth anything.