Kimberly Brubaker Bradley's Blog, page 3

Now It's All Making Sense

 This is going to be short, because I know I don't have my thoughts in order yet. I also know I'm not going to be able to sit down to my novel-writing work unless I write something about this first. So, here we go.

Every writer of books for young people has been aware of the big upsurge in book bannings, country wide. Often the challenges to the books are patently ridiculous--one complained that the jellyfish character in the young reader's graphic novel "Narwhal and Jellie" wasn't described as being a specific gender. 

It was a jellyfish. I'm not entirely sure jellyfish have genders.

(Turns out you can Google that. And the answer is: some do, some don't.)

Anyhow it began to seem obvious to me that there was something behind all this book banning besides your usual racism and homophobia, and it turns out, yes there is.

Most of the "grassroots" organizations carrying the banner for bills like HB1944, the one currently on the floor in Tennessee, are funded by certain ultra-rich ultra-right people, some of who hope to make a bunch of money off federally-funded charter schools.

Here's a link: Who Are Moms for Liberty?: This Week's Book Censorship News, January 28, 2022 (bookriot.com)

Here's another: Unmasking Moms for Liberty | Media Matters for America

Many very wealthy people in this country are using their money to improve society. Some aren't. We know that. 

Charter schools are a whole nother topic--good points and bad. The problem is that the most vulnerable people in our society--low-income kids, kids with learning disabilities, kids in foster care, those with backgrounds of trauma and resultant behavior issues--they're the ones that need strong public schools the most. As Appalachian Literacy Initiative has grown I've learned more and more about what it's like to be a poor kid in a rural area. The local school is the only choice. The school library is the only source of reading material. If we weaken public schools, for any reason, we're harming the people in our society who most need help.

TN HB1944 Would Ban the Bible and Anne Frank

Dear Tennessee Representatives Who Ignorantly Support HB1944:

I've heard from a few of you who've said, rather patronizingly, that this bill only bans obscene books for children. You seem to have no idea of the incredible can of worms you're about to open, to the certain detriment of Tennessee's children. Many of our public school children, particularly those in rural areas, rely on their school libraries for their only access to books. And these bans are not about what's being taught as curriculum--they are about whether the books can even be shelved on the library. NO ONE is putting pornography on school shelves. No one is taking away any parent's right to say what their child may or may not read. People with agendas will call anything obscene, for nearly any reason. HB1944 promotes censorship in its worst form.

According to the American Library Association, here are 16 of the 100 most banned books of the decade 2010-2019--many thousands more have been challenged but these are in the top. The descriptions are from Amazon. 

 

·  Captain Underpants (series) by Dav Pilkey

 

Fourth graders George Beard and Harold Hutchins are a couple of class clowns. The only thing they enjoy more than playing practical jokes is creating their own comic books. And together they've created the greatest superhero in the history of their elementary school: Captain Underpants! His true identity is SO secret, even HE doesn't know who he is!

 

Praise for Captain Underpants:

2013 PARENTS' CHOICE AWARD WINNER - PARENTS' CHOICE FOUNDATION

"(One of the) 5 Books That All Children Should Read" - HEALTHY FAMILY MATTERS

"Combines empowerment and empathy with age-appropriate humor and action" - BOOKLIST

"Funniest Book of the Year"  - PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY ("Cuffie" Award Winner)

"Pick of the List" -AMERICAN BOOKSELLER       

 

·  And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell

The heartwarming true story of two penguins who create a nontraditional family is now available in a sturdy board book edition.

At the penguin house at the Central Park Zoo, two penguins named Roy and Silo were a little bit different from the others. But their desire for a family was the same. And with the help of a kindly zookeeper, Roy and Silo got the chance to welcome a baby penguin of their very own.

 

 ·  Drama by Raina Telgemeier

From Raina Telgemeier, the #1 New York Times bestselling, multiple Eisner Award-winning author of Smile and Sisters!

Callie loves theater. And while she would totally try out for her middle school's production of Moon over Mississippi, she can't really sing. Instead she's the set designer for the drama department's stage crew, and this year she's determined to create a set worthy of Broadway on a middle-school budget. But how can she, when she doesn't know much about carpentry, ticket sales are down, and the crew members are having trouble working together? Not to mention the onstage AND offstage drama that occurs once the actors are chosen. And when two cute brothers enter the picture, things get even crazier!

* "Another dead-on look at the confusing world of middle school." -- Publishers Weekly, starred review* "With the clear, stylish art, the strongly appealing characters and just the right pinch of drama, this book will undoubtedly make readers stand up and cheer. Brava!" -- Kirkus Reviews, starred review* "Telgemeier is prodigiously talented at telling cheerful stories with realistic portrayals of middle-school characters." -- Booklist, starred review* "The full-color cartoon-style illustrations are graceful, assured, and, along with the twists and turns of the plot, guarantee an entertaining and enlightening read." -- School Library Journal, starred review

·  Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

#1 USA Today Bestseller

#1 New York Times Bestseller
#1 Wall Street Journal Bestseller
#1 Publishers Weekly Bestseller
A New York Times Notable Children’s Book
A New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice
A Booklist Editors’ Choice
A Kirkus Best Book
A Publishers Weekly Best Book
A Horn Book Fanfare Book
A School Library Journal Best Book

“Whereas Katniss kills with finesse, Collins writes with raw power.” —Time Magazine

“Suspenseful… Collins’ fans, grown-ups included, will race to the end.” —USA Today

“Collins has joined J. K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer as a writer of children’s books that adults are eager to read.” —Bloomberg.com

“At its best the trilogy channels the political passion of 1984, the memorable violence of A Clockwork Orange, the imaginative ambience of The Chronicles of Narnia and the detailed inventiveness of Harry Potter.” —New York Times Book Review

“Perfect pacing and electrifying world-building.” —Booklist, starred review

“Forget Edward and Jacob… Readers will be picking sides—Peeta or Gale?” —Publishers Weekly, starred review

“Leaves enough questions tantalizingly unanswered for readers to be desperate for the next installment.” —School Library Journal, starred review

“Brilliantly plotted and perfectly paced.” —John Green, New York Times Book Review

“Compulsively readable.” —The Horn Book, starred review

“A superb tale.” —Booklist, starred review

“Tense, dramatic, and engrossing.” —School Library Journal, starred review

“Readers will wait eagerly to learn more.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review

 

·  I Am Jazz by Jazz Jennings and Jessica Herthel

The story of a transgender child based on the real-life experience of Jazz Jennings, who has become a spokesperson for transkids everywhere

"This is an essential tool for parents and teachers to share with children whether those kids identify as trans or not. I wish I had had a book like this when I was a kid struggling with gender identity questions. I found it deeply moving in its simplicity and honesty."—Laverne Cox (who plays Sophia in “Orange Is the New Black”)

From the time she was two years old, Jazz knew that she had a girl's brain in a boy's body. She loved pink and dressing up as a mermaid and didn't feel like herself in boys' clothing. This confused her family, until they took her to a doctor who said that Jazz was transgender and that she was born that way. Jazz's story is based on her real-life experience and she tells it in a simple, clear way that will be appreciated by picture book readers, their parents, and teachers.

 

·  To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

 ·  It's Perfectly Normal by Robie H. Harris

With more than 1.5 million copies in print, It’s Perfectly Normal has been a trusted resource on sexuality for more than twenty-five years. Rigorously vetted by experts, this is the most ambitiously updated edition yet, featuring to-the-minute information and language accompanied by new and refreshed art.

"It's Perfectly Normal is informative and interesting; reassuring and responsible; warm and charming. I wish every child (and parent) could have a copy." — Penelope Leach, Ph.D., author of YOUR BABY & CHILD

"I recommend [IT'S PERFECTLY NORMAL] to parents and children who are coming into adolescence. They will love it." — T. Berry Brazelton, M.D. author of TOUCHPOINTS

"A perfectly wonderful treatment of the always touchy subject of sex education for young people. The book treats the subject seriously and its intended readers respectfully." — Hugh B. Price, president, National Urban League, Inc.

 ·  Bad Kitty (series) by Nick Bruel

From the creator of The New York Times bestseller Boing! comes the riotous story of a cat gone berserk -- four times over an in alphabetical order each time. Kitty is not happy hen she's told that her favorite foods are all gone and all that's left are Asparagus, Beets, Cauliflower, Dill...and 22 other equally unappealing vegetables. So she: Ate my homework, Bit grandma, Clawed the curtains, Damaged the dishes, and so on, through Z. Only when tastier things arrive (An Assortment of Anchovies, Buffalo Burritos, Chicken Cheesecake...) does she Apologize to Grandma.

 ·  Goosebumps (series) by R.L. Stine

Discover the original bone-chilling adventures that made Goosebumps one of the bestselling children's book series of all time!

Lindy names the ventriloquist's dummy she finds Slappy. Slappy is kind of ugly, but he's a lot of fun. Lindy's having a great time learning to make Slappy move and talk. But Kris is jealous of all the attention her sister is getting. It's no fair. Why does Lindy always have all the luck?Kris decides to get a dummy of her own. She'll show Kris. Then weird things begin to happen. Nasty things. Evil things. No way a dummy can be causing all the trouble. Or is there?Now with all-new bonus material revealing Slappy's secrets and more.

 ·  In Our Mothers' House by Patricia Polacco

Marmee, Meema, and the kids are just like any other family on the block. In their beautiful house, they cook dinner together, they laugh together, and they dance together. But some of the other families don?t accept them. They say they are different. How can a family have two moms and no dad? But Marmee and Meema?s house is full of love. And they teach their children that different doesn?t mean wrong. And no matter how many moms or dads they have, they are everything a family is meant to be.

Here is a true Polacco story of a family, living by their own rules, and the strength they gain by the love they feel.

 ·  The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Anyone who has read J.D. Salinger's New Yorker stories--particularly A Perfect Day for Bananafish, Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut, The Laughing Man, and For Esme With Love and Squalor--will not be surprised by the fact that his first novel is full of children. The hero-narrator of The Catcher in the Rye is an ancient child of sixteen, a native New Yorker named Holden Caulfield.

Through circumstances that tend to preclude adult, secondhand description, he leaves his prep school in Pennsylvania and goes underground in New York City for three days. The boy himself is at once too simple and too complex for us to make any final comment about him or his story. Perhaps the safest thing we can say about Holden is that he was born in the world not just strongly attracted to beauty but, almost, hopelessly impaled on it.

There are many voices in this novel: children's voices, adult voices, underground voices-but Holden's voice is the most eloquent of all. Transcending his own vernacular, yet remaining marvelously faithful to it, he issues a perfectly articulated cry of mixed pain and pleasure. However, like most lovers and clowns and poets of the higher orders, he keeps most of the pain to, and for, himself. The pleasure he gives away, or sets aside, with all his heart. It is there for the reader who can handle it to keep.

 

·  The Holy Bible

·  The Giver by Lois Lowry

In Lois Lowry’s Newbery Medal–winning classic, twelve-year-old Jonas lives in a seemingly ideal world. Not until he is given his life assignment as the Receiver does he begin to understand the dark secrets behind his fragile community.

The Giver, the 1994 Newbery Medal winner, has become one of the most influential novels of our time. The haunting story centers on twelve-year-old Jonas, who lives in a seemingly ideal, if colorless, world of conformity and contentment. Not until he is given his life assignment as the Receiver of Memory does he begin to understand the dark, complex secrets behind his fragile community. Lois Lowry has written three companion novels to The Giver, including Gathering Blue, Messenger, and Son.

 ·  Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

Discovered in the attic in which she spent the last years of her life, Anne Frank’s remarkable diary has since become a world classic—a powerful reminder of the horrors of war and an eloquent testament to the human spirit. 

In 1942, with Nazis occupying Holland, a thirteen-year-old Jewish girl and her family fled their home in Amsterdam and went into hiding. For the next two years, until their whereabouts were betrayed to the Gestapo, they and another family lived cloistered in the “Secret Annex” of an old office building. Cut off from the outside world, they faced hunger, boredom, the constant cruelties of living in confined quarters, and the ever-present threat of discovery and death. In her diary Anne Frank recorded vivid impressions of her experiences during this period. By turns thoughtful, moving, and amusing, her account offers a fascinating commentary on human courage and frailty and a compelling self-portrait of a sensitive and spirited young woman whose promise was tragically cut short.

Praise for The Diary of a Young Girl

“A truly remarkable book.”—The New York Times

“One of the most moving personal documents to come out of World War II.”—The Philadelphia Inquirer

“There may be no better way to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the end of World War II than to reread The Diary of a Young Girl, a testament to an indestructible nobility of spirit in the face of pure evil.”—Chicago Tribune

“The single most compelling personal account of the Holocaust . . . remains astonishing and excruciating.”—The New York Times Book Review

 

·  Draw Me a Star by Eric Carle

Draw me a star. And the artist drew a star. It was a good star. Draw me a sun, said the star. And the artist drew a sun. And on the artist draws, bringing the world to life picture by beautiful picture until he is spirited across the night sky by a star that shines on all he has made. In Draw Me a Star, Eric Carle celebrates the imagination in all of us with a beguiling story about a young artist who creates a world of light and possibility.

"A remarkable, quintessentially simple book encompassing Creation, creativity, and the cycle of life within the eternal." —Kirkus Reviews, pointer review

"This book will appeal to readers of all ages. An inspired book in every sense of the word." —School Library Journal

"A fable about the passage through life and its fullness of possibilities, children will like the cumulative effects of the tale, the creation of the world through paints, and Carle's collages flaring with rainbow hues." —The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books

 

·  1984 by George Orwell

Written more than 70 years ago, 1984 was George Orwell’s chilling prophecy about the future. And while 1984 has come and gone, his dystopian vision of a government that will do anything to control the narrative is timelier than ever...

• Nominated as one of America’s best-loved novels by PBS’s The Great American Read •

“The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”

Winston Smith toes the Party line, rewriting history to satisfy the demands of the Ministry of Truth. With each lie he writes, Winston grows to hate the Party that seeks power for its own sake and persecutes those who dare to commit thoughtcrimes. But as he starts to think for himself, Winston can’t escape the fact that Big Brother is always watching...

A startling and haunting novel, 1984 creates an imaginary world that is completely convincing from start to finish. No one can deny the novel’s hold on the imaginations of whole generations, or the power of its admonitions—a power that seems to grow, not lessen, with the passage of time.

So. Do you seriously want to ban Captain Underpants? The Bible? Any book which admits that gay people exist? Anne Frank?

This is wrong. Please withdraw HB1944.

How to Write a Book

This morning I had a Facebook notification that a friend had tagged me on a post of a friend of hers, which read in part, "Has anyone written a book before?! I need to know where to start. I have like 7-8pg." I realized my advice would be rather lengthy for a Facebook post, then I thought hey, I could do this as a blogpost. Pretty good topic.

First of all, the friend-of-a-friend appears to be an adult. I say that only because I'm often asked the exact same question by children, and my answers to children would be somewhat different. I'm against children seeking publication--they have no idea how hard it can be and they're up against adult professionals, both of which are also true of adults new to writing, but they're also still kids. They shouldn't be making something fun into work, not yet, and they're often being pushed to make "real books" by the adults in their lives. You don't expect Little Leaguers to play for the Braves. Quit expecting the equivalent from young writers.

Now. Said FOF is an adult woman, knows very little about publishing. Is inspired to write. GREAT. She's got everything she needs: a story and the ability to learn. Because publishing is a business. It helps very much if you think of it like performing onstage: those actors in Hamilton are making bank, because that show is amazing, they're incredibly talented, and they've worked very, very hard for a very long time. You, too, could work that hard. Whether you're that talented is your own business--but--I'm loving this analogy here--there are lots of parts of writing, like performing onstage, that can be learned. Some people are total naturals, complete freaks of nature. Most, even the very successful ones, aren't. I'll say it here: Lin Manuel Miranda's natural voice, while good, isn't on par with most Broadway musical stars. But he's learned enough and worked enough and is good enough at other things that it all works out pretty well.

But just as there's Broadway, so too is there off-Broadway. Regional theaters. Local amateur productions. You don't have to streak straight to the top of the bestseller lists, and, in fact, you aren't likely to. That's fine.

Back to writing. Let's start with a few questions. One: who is your story for? Children? If so, which children? Toddlers being read to? First graders starting to read on their own? Sixteen-year-olds? Those are all very different. If it's for adults, that's not a monolithic audience either. Fiction? Nonfiction? Poetry? Memoir? Different rules. (I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not writing for an academic audience--that's another branch entirely.) Then think about genre: historical fiction, romance, mystery, fantasy, etc. If you're not sure, that's okay, just start thinking about it.

Here's another primary question. What is your ultimate aim? There's a wide difference between wanting to write up some family stories to pass down to the next generation and wanting to become the next Stephen King. Publishing right now can be divided into two types: traditional and self-published. When you write for a traditional publisher, as I do, you submit a manuscript to the publisher. They decide whether or not they want to publish it. (I'm simplifying here a bit.) They assign you an editor, and you and the editor revise the manuscript until everyone is happy with the result. (If you're happy and they aren't, tough noogies. Back to work.) Then they have in-house staff design the layout, cover, trim size. They put your book into their marketing plan, their salespeople pitch it to bookstores and distributors, standard reviewing journals (Publisher's Weekly, Library Journal, etc.) review it, and it gets sold in bookstores nationwide without the author having to do very much. The author is paid an advance on royalties and then a certain percentage of the price of all the books sold. You never have to pay back the advance even if your book tanks, but an advance for beginning writers will be in the low thousands of dollars, not necessarily a lot--but if your book sells well, you'll get more.

When you self-publish, you, the author, bear the cost of producing the book. You will likely pay for an editor to review your work and suggest edits, but if you don't want to do the edits that's up to you. You'll either pay someone else or you yourself will supervise the design and select the cover. You'll direct the marketing. You'll pay upfront for your book to be physically produced. You'll be responsible for trying to get it into bookstores, and this will likely be difficult to do. You can pay some journals to review your book, but not all of them, and you do have to pay them. On the other hand, you get complete control of your product, and you get a higher percentage of the book's price as profit. You might pay $3 per copy to create your book but sell it for $15--$12 profit per copy, instead of the $1.50 per copy profit you'll make traditionally publishing. On the other hand, better distribution means you're much more likely to sell lots of copies through traditional publishing. With self-publishing you take the risk. It's worth understanding that most people who self-publish do not sell enough copies of their book to make any profit at all. Most are out money. On the other hand, I have personal friends who have done very well for themselves through self-publishing: they understand their market and are very good at that end of the business, as well as being good writers.

Here's the other thing: self-publishing is akin to amateur theatrics, in that anyone can do it. Some people are going to be very talented, and work very hard, but a lot of people are just dabbling. That's fine. There's plenty of room for dabblers. But it you want to be traditionally published, you're going to have to think of that more as Broadway--there are a lot of people trying to get onstage, and they don't reserve spots for newbies. You'll have to audition and prove yourself.

(This is also why the person who suggested you write to publishers and ask for advice is off base: because it's the equivalent of asking Lin Manuel Miranda how to get started in theatre. It's not that he doesn't know or isn't a nice guy, he just doesn't have time to send you an answer.)

So. This is a lot of words, and I still haven't given you any advice. So here it is: take some time and do your research. You don't have to stop writing while you do that. Write whatever you like, enjoy yourself, and at the same time, start learning. Read a lot of books in your genre. Develop a feel for the structure, characters, general rules. At the same time, start learning about the business side. Go to the library and get the current Writer's Market. There's one published every year, and most libraries have them. (There's a separate one for writing for children.) Read it. Read Stephen King's book On Writing. Practice. Learn to revise. Think about your craft. Take yourself seriously, while still having fun. If you're writing for kids, there's an organization called the Society of Chidren's Book Writers and Illustrators that runs conferences and has lots of good information online. There are organizations for writers for adults, too, though I don't know them by name.

Join a writer's group, if you can. Learn to have your work critiqued, and to offer critiques. Practice. Finish a story, even if halfway through you think it's crap (and it probably is.). You'll learn things by writing a story all the way to the end that you can't learn otherwise. 

Understand that there are very, very few overnight successes in this world. There are a few, and some of them are even nice people, but most of us have to work at our craft for a long time. It took me nine years of writing for horse magazines and doing random bits of journalism and working my way up to remote editing and writing work-for-hire before my first novel was published. It took me 9 drafts to get my penultimate book right--and that was my 17th (traditionally) published book. It's a lot of work no matter how talented you are.

Also? It's worth it. Start now.

Fourteen lovely minutes

So the last two days, though mostly fine, have been marred by a few pieces of genuine bad news. One isn't mine enough to share publicly. Another is that T, the horse I rented for nine months until last spring, died a few days ago. He was living happily and well at the farm he went to after mine, and he died of one of those stupid things that sometimes affect horses and can't be made right quickly enough to save them. 

I miss T's sweet spirit. I miss his sense of genuine good. I'm grateful for the time we had together.

I hadn't been planning on riding today. I've got an appliance repairment whose arrival was originally scheduled as "between 8 and 5" and my husband's partners and their spouses are coming for dinner tonight. Thankfully, the broken appliance is not required to cook the dinner, and all the guests are bringing a dish. I spent some time this morning ironing my good napkins, very grateful that, unlike last year, I had a reason to use them this year--which is probably the only time I've ever been grateful to be ironing--and then the appliance people texted that they were narrowing their arrival time to "between 4:41 and 6:11" or, in other words, "perfectly arranged to screw up your dinner, but hey, now you can leave the house."

So I did. I went to ALI World Headquarters to fill one last order that came in before the schools shut for break, and then I grabbed lunch with my husband, and then, while we were in the middle of eating, the other bad news showed up and put a damper on everything. So after lunch I scoffed at my housework and went to the barn.

I'd have to go to the barn anyhow, of course, to feed things. The cats milled around, frantic, having not eaten since they scammed an extra meal yesterday. The horses looked peeved. Yesterday, when I went to feed, I found their water trough entirely empty, and it was clear from the reproachful way that they guzzled once I'd filled it that they blamed me entirely. Which was outrageous, since one of them--and Sarah, I think we all know it was you--had knocked the halfway full trough off the blocks it sits on precisely so that Sarah can't dump it over, dumped it over, flung the water heater halfway down the field, then stomped about in the mud puddle they'd created. In short, not at all my fault.

I put them in, then zipped my riding boots over the yoga pants I was wearing--close enough to breeches if you're not doing much. Fetched Rosie from her stall. Rosie's the little mare I bought last July. We went out to my small sand arena, and Rosie, I was pleased to see, let out a little sigh of happiness. The small arena is for flatwork, dressage; historically, neither me nor any horse I ride has enjoyed dressage. But Rosie and I are starting to get the hang of it. Rosie loves it when I ride well and hates it when I ride poorly. She doesn't buck or kick or doing anything awful, but she puts back her ears, gnashes her teeth, and stiffens her whole body whenever I do something wrong. Sometimes I'm not sure what I've done wrong, but with Rosie's immediate feedback I know I've screwed up something. For awhile I was dropping my inside shoulder on upward canter transitions. Lately I've fixed that, but been putting my outside leg too far back at the trot while using my inside leg to make her round. She starts to transition to canter, realizes I'm not actually asking her to, just flailing incoherently, and goes back to the trot pissed off about it. Rosie has a smart forward walk--unless I tighten my seat, in which case she slows and stiffens and glares at me. You see how it goes.

As a result our flatwork sessions have become amazingly zen. I need to be fluid and balanced and precise with my body; I need to be focused yet relaxed, clear but soft in my aids. And Rosie rounds herself into my hands, and we dance--sometimes for as many as six or seven strides before I tighten somewhere and screw us up again. And then we take a deep breath, and try again.

I time my rides on the exercise app on my watch. Today Rosie and I were right more than we were wrong. We found harmony. She practically purred.

At times like that it's tempting to just keep going, to push yourself and your horse and see what else you can achieve. Lateral work? Perfect downward transitions?

Not today. I needed some good news, and Rosie gave it to me. I patted her and called it quits, and when I dismounted saw that I'd been riding for exactly fourteen minutes.

Sometimes that's long enough.

How It's Going With the Books

 No, not the ones I write. They're going fine, fine-ish, anyhow, after a somewhat difficult quarantine year. (All the writers I know had some degree of a difficult quarantine year.) I have a completed draft of a novel sitting in my editor's hands: she was supposed to get back to me about it three weeks ago, and hasn't, and now it's December 1. Publishing absolutely entirely shuts down for two weeks leading up to the New Year--they lock the offices, everyone goes home--of course, this year they might already be home--but in truth they mostly shut down as soon as Thanksgiving rolls around. I won't likely hear anything until January. Years ago this used to frustrate me, but now I just embrace the holiday spirit. Why not? I can't change it so I might as well enjoy.

I am working on the start of a new book, but it's too new to talk about yet.

Today I'm going to talk about the books from Appalachian Literacy Initiative. Phew. We're nearly halfway into our fourth year of operation. (We follow the school calendar.) We've grown so much and we're doing so well, and there's so much more to be done. I know I've talked in this space quite a lot about how important it is that kids have access to books. Today I'm going to talk nuts and bolts.

This year we were graciously granted permanent office space in a building owned by another local nonprofit. It's a largish room, and we've filled it with industrial book shelves (bought cheap at Sam's Club, they hold several hundred pounds per shelf, which is good because we need them to). When you walk in the door, there's a shelf immediately to your left, where until yesterday UPS put unopened boxes of books that we'd ordered. (We had a stack of boxes obscured the door, so we've changed plans.) After that, running clockwise around the outside of the room, two desks crammed beneath the one window. One desk has some office supplies on top, the other holds our laptop and printer. The office supply desk is used for all sorts of things. The printer desk is the order and shipping hub.

Now we're on the wall across from the door. Four sets of bookshelves. The first set is office supplies--paper, stickers, tape, folders--some boxes of books we've set aside for various reasons, including ones that arrive damaged, and, on the top shelves, some YA books we were donated that we haven't yet found homes for. 

The next three sets of shelves are the third-grade choices for this school year. Twenty-four books, and each gets half a shelf. We put stickers inside all of the books we give away: they say Appalachian Literacy Initiative and have a space for the child to put their name. That way, when 14 kids in the same class get the same title, they can tell the books apart. We also have stickers for some of the organizations that have sponsored entire schools: "A Gift from Ballad Health." "A Gift from the Bill Gatton Foundation."

Now. The number of copies of each book that can fit in the designated space depends entirely upon the size of the books. All books are different. Alien Ocean Animals is probably our smallest, space-wise; Magnus Chase, in hardcover, is the largest. We don't put any books on the grade shelves until they're properly stickered. Sometimes we store extra boxes of stickered books on the tip-top shelves. 

Turn the corner, and the next wall is fourth grade. Turn it again, and the shelves for the fifth grade books fit neatly along the wall with the door. 

In the center of the room, three more sets of bookshelves, crammed together, and two more work tables for packing books. The shelves are full--crammed full--of extra books, ones that aren't part of the lists for the three grades we're doing this year. Sometimes that's because we couldn't get enough copies or a title even if we wanted to. Sometimes these books are donations direct from writers or publishers. When we order through Scholastic's nonprofit arm, Scholastic Literacy Partnerships, they send us boxes of random free books, and we put those on these shelves as well. If the local teachers enrolled in our program come to pick their books up, instead of having us mail them, we let them pick out a couple of extra books for their classrooms. We also give them out to different community organizations--a hundred earlier this fall for a local after-school group in a federal housing project, a couple hundred to Girls Inc, a couple hundred soon to be sent to a school system's holiday gift program.

In all the corners of the room we've stuffed flattened cardboard boxes. Books come out of the boxes, we save the boxes, we put books back into the boxes and we ship them out.

This year Tuesdays are our big ship-out days. We welcome any and all volunteers any and all Tuesday afternoons. If you'd like to come by, please do: at the very least there are always books to sticker. 

We ship our teachers sets of six titles four times a year.  We sent the second teacher sets a few weeks ago--six books each to 185 teachers. It was a helluva day. They first teacher sets we shipped out over several weeks, because we got some last-minute funding that allowed us to add several additional schools. That was fabulous but has also created chaos, as it meant we no longer had enough books for the year. 

We get our books cheaply through First Book, Scholastic Literacy Partners, and publisher donations (big shouts out to Thorndike and Penguin Random House). This means that the money people donate goes a lot farther than it otherwise would, but it also means we have to stay on top of our game. A title available last week might not be available again for six months, or ever.  Last summer I'd figured we needed at least 200 copies of any one title to have it in our program, but that was a serious underestimation. We ended up enrolling 1200 students per grade. Each student picks one book from every set of six. That would suggest that 200 copies might be just enough--except that the teachers get classroom sets. We need 60 to 65 copies of each title, depending on the grade, just for the classroom sets. Also we are very firm about kids getting to choose whichever books they want--and we can't always predict which titles will be popular. We're realizing that 275 is the absolute minimum for any title this year--we'll need 350 or more for many. That's fun math to be doing in December--and I mean that absolutely. We are DELIGHTED to be in this position. We are loving giving away this many books. It's the best damn thing in the world.

So yesterday: I showed up at what I love to call World Headquarters early, because the local news channel wanted to interview me. (The resulting spot turned out ghastly, with the anchor mangling ALI's name and it all going downhill from there--what possessed me to wear that shirt?--so no link, thank you.) UPS delivered some books shortly afterward: "Hi, Ma'am, just add them to the pile?" It was a huge pile, causing problems. Happily we've just been given a bit more space in the back of the building, and when a couple of college kids showed up (we give out official volunteer hours!) the first thing I had them do was move all the unopened boxes of books out of the main room. Then they stickered some of the free Scholastic books, since we'll be giving those away next week. I sat down at the computer and started printing out student orders from our teachers. The other board members grabbed the order sheets, and started packing boxes.

We had at least a dozen orders. Some were for one class, some for an entire school. Here's a sample, from one of our largest enrolled schools:

Fifth grade: Best Friends 12; The Crossover 3; The Girl Who Drank the Moon 1; The Player King 4; 100 Things to Be 11; Be Prepared 42; Black Panther 34; Flora & Ulyssess 4; From the Desk of Zoe Washington 16; The War I Finally Won 5. 

You'll notice that it's more than six titles. That's because students are always allowed to order from previous lists.

What I noticed: Be Prepared 42. Shoot.

Be Prepared is a graphic novel. It's funny, and quirky, and I love it. I scored 200 hardcover copies last summer at an unbelievable discount, something like $1 for a $23 book. A few weeks ago I managed to get another 40 copies, in paperback, through First Book, but that was all they had. I bought them out. They'll get more eventually, probably, but it could take months.

I didn't think this would be a problem. Be Prepared really is quirky. It's not nearly as well known as some of the other graphic novels on our list. 

I was wrong. We started filling orders, and it was clear that Be Prepared was in high demand. I started the day with 175 copies and ended the day with 20, and we hadn't filled all the orders that had come in, and there are still a bunch more orders to come.

Anyhow, I want to tell you about the process: it's this. We take the printed order, take the books off the shelves, find a box or boxes to put them in. We tape the box, weigh it, print postage, copy the postage label onto a copy of the order form, so we know we've filled it, put the postage on the box, stack the boxes in the lobby of the building for the postman. Check off the schools/grades on our master list. Subtract the copies from our inventory.

We did that all afternoon. This morning I sat at my home computer with the inventory list and spent a moment being very very grateful for donations we've recently received. Then I went on First Book. First I looked for Be Prepared. I'd looked for it the day before, as soon as I saw we didn't have enough, and it wasn't in stock, but sometimes restocking miracles happen. Nope. Then I scanned the rest of the graphic novels for sale. It's a tough time of year, they're out of everything. Got 14 copies of Pea, Bee, & Jay when I'd have happily bought 150. ($3.50 for a $7.99 retail price). Went on to get 100 copies of Ghose ($3.75 each), 75 of Animal Smackdown--a real victory, that, as we've given out 363 copies so far this year. The price has gone up, from $4.95 a copy to $5.85, but this is a glossy full-color book with a retail price of $14.99. I got one lonely copy of The One and Only Ivan, 18 of Power Forward, 96 of Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer ($3.25/copy). I looked at the Book Bank, where the huge bargains are--it's there I got the hardcover Be Prepareds, back last summer. Bought one carton of Percy Jackson's Demigod Collection, 12 books for a total of $8.40. It might be brilliant but it might be too bulky to ship, hard to tell so we'll try a few first. Ghetto Cowboy, another favorite 120 copies. One copy of Hello Universe. I look in vain for Front Desk, which I've been trying to get more of for months, along with Guinness Animal Records, How to Steal a Dog, and Love That Dog. Love That Dog is particularly worrisome--we're running out. Oooh--the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid, #16! Three hundred copies. That, along with the 200 copies we have on hand of #15, should get us through the school year. 

I log into Scholastic Literary Partnerships, and am overjoyed to find both Narwhal and Jelly ($3.96, rp $8.99) and Love That Dog ($4.53, rp $7.99). I buy 100 copies of each. They've got Captain Underpants ($3.41, rp $5.99) back in stock, so I grab 100 of that and 100 of I Survived the Sinking of the Titanic. ($1.50, rp $4.95) This order qualifies us for 160 additional free books--I can't chose the titles, but I choose the age ranges. It'll be enough to ensure we have plenty for the school Christmas program. 

This does not solve my Be Prepared problem. We have new orders in and we can't fill them. We can buy the book through an independent bookstore, which will give us a hefty discount (though not as good as FB or SLP), but shipping comes direct from the publisher and will take a few weeks. I don't have an in with the publisher, First Second--I've been known to beg unashamedly from publishers where I do. 

Sighing, I go on Amazon. I can get the paperback of Be Prepared (rp $14.99) for $10.49, which is steep, but I'm desperate. 

Amazon will only let me buy 30 copies. I don't know why, they've got quotas now of most titles. I once bought 80 copies of How to Steal a Dog from them, and now I can't buy anymore ever. I buy 30 copies, then call one of the other board members and have her buy 30 copies from her home computer too. It's not enough, but it'll buy us a bit of time.

This. This is why we do it. Just look at her. She's holding the first book she ordered. This child attends the school that ordered 42 copies of Be Prepared. We intend to see that they get them.
We've got a fundraiser going on Facebook right now, which I'm going to link to this exceptionally long post. You can also donate to us via our website, or by mail to PO Box 3283, Bristol, TN 37625. xoxox

 

Beverly, Kelly Yang, and the Sullivan County Board of Education

This morning I thought I would write an amusing story about Beverly, my schnoodle, who through no fault of her own currently looks like a long-legged naked mole rat attached to a Schnauzer head. But I went to sleep thinking about a tweet from an internet friend, fellow author Kelly Yang, and I woke to an article on the same general topic in my local newspaper, and so I'm going to write about those instead of my dog. But I'll post a photo of said dog, for interest:

 

See? It's unfortunate, but not nearly as ridiculous as the crap being doled out to Kelly Yang and a Sullivan Central High School teacher named Matthew Hawn. Let's take them individually.
Kelly Yang is an author I've never personally met but one whose work I admire. This year Appalachian Literacy Initiative selected her novel Front Desk as one of the choices for 4th grade. Front Desk is about a10-year-old Chinese immigrant, Mia Tang, who's helping her parents run a motel in California. It got universally terrific reviews--it's well-written and funny. It's also a great example of a kid in a tough circumstance making good. Most of the students ALI sends books to are low-income, so we like to have books that mirror that and end hopefully. (Not all of them: Dog Man is a perpetual favorite, and so is Animal Smackdown. But it's a point in a book's favor when it comes to our list.)
Two days ago Kelly tweeted that the New York Times had quoted an organization who had put Front Desk on a list of books that teach Critical Race Theory and "demean our nation and its heroes." It's been awhile since I read Front Desk. I've been searching my mind, and I can't think of anything about it that demeans anything. There's an antagonist--but he, like the Tangs, is of Chinese descent. There are different people of different backgrounds. There's a discussion that it's harder in America if you're poor than if you're not--which is pretty hard to argue with. The whole reason ALI sends books to low-income students is that their lack of access to books means they're 250% less likely to read at proficient level than their higher-income classmates. 
I looked up the other books on the list. Most are nonfiction. One is a YA novel by Meg Medina called Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass. I have no idea why that book is supposed to have anything to do with Critical Race Theory, but it's on the very short list of books I wish I'd written myself. My admiration for Yaqui Delgado is unbounded.
It seems to me that lots of people are talking about Critical Race Theory without having any idea what it means. I found a definition online:
Critical race theory is an academic concept that is more than 40 years old. The core idea is that race is a social construct, and that racism is not merely the product of individual bias or prejudice, but also something embedded in legal systems and policies.
The basic tenets of critical race theory, or CRT, emerged out of a framework for legal analysis in the late 1970s and early 1980s created by legal scholars Derrick Bell, Kimberlé Crenshaw, and Richard Delgado, among others.

The fear seems to be that schools are trying to get students to hate white people. 

We don't teach hate by teaching the truth. We teach empathy, perhaps. Justice. Critical thinking. Adolf Hitler calls himself a Christian in his book Mein Kampf--but we don't claim that speaking against Hitler demeans Christianity. Teaching the entire truth of our past and present might make students hate what certain white people have done in the past--but it's not going to make them hate every white person. Nothing is all white people any more than it's all Black people or all Asians or all Presbyterians. But also, no one is actually teaching the nuances of Critical Race Theory in elementary school. Letting kids know that sometimes other kids have a hard time for reasons they can't control--that teaches some kids to be more compassionate and others that they aren't alone. It's love and it's hope. It's a responsibility that I as a writer for children take very seriously.

Ok, Matthew Hawn. I never met him and never heard of him until this morning, when I read about him on page 3 of my local paper. Matthew Hawn, who taught at Sullivan Central High School for 16 years, is coming before the Sullivan County Board of Education  on December 14 to appeal his termination last spring for not offering varying points of view in his contemporary issues class. According to the paper, Hawn assigned a reading of a Ta-Nehisi Coates book "The First White President" and also played a four-minute video of someone reading Kayla Jenee Lacey's poem "White Privilege."

I've read some of Ta-Nehisi Coates's books and am familiar with most of them, but hadn't heard of one called "The First White President." I just Googled it. Now I understand why the Sullivan County Board of Education is so upset. I live in Sullivan County and know the local brand of prejudice pretty well. "The First White President" is actually an article published in the magazine The Atlantic, in October, 2017, and it links the presidency of Donald Trump with racism. I encourage you to read it. If you're pro-Trump your knee-jerk reaction might be negative,. I encourage you to really examine the facts Coates presents as well as the words he uses to present them. Now imagine this article being picked apart and discussed in a high school class. Pretty instructive--which was of course the point.

As for the poem "White Privilege." Wow. I didn't know Kyla Jenee Lacey until just now. There's an interesting article online, from Slate magazine, where she's interviewed specifically about this poem and Matthew Hawn's firing. Here's a salient bit:

One thing that the school board mentioned in their decision to dismiss Hawn was the “inappropriate” language in your poem. What was your reaction upon hearing that? Did that strike you as being the real reason why?

I know it’s not the real reason why. I have their required reading list. And in the books that they are required to read, there’s sexual assault, murder, a lot of cursing. So I know that it was just a terrible excuse for their discomfort. And this is coming from somebody who was 16 years old having to, who grew up in a mostly white neighborhood, in my latter childhood, reading Mark Twain and reading the word “n***er” over 200 times in a book.

I went to look up what was on the Sullivan County high school reading list, but couldn't find it online. Sullivan Central High School closed last spring when the new consolidated county high school, West Ridge, was built. Contemporary Issues is still a class at West Ridge: This course acquaints the student with topics of national and international interest and equips students with the analytic skills needed to assume leadership roles as a citizen. 

I want to wrap this all up in a tidy conclusion, but I haven't got one, just a sense of heartsick frustration. Our children are capable of understanding nuance and truth, empathy and love. They deserve books like Front Desk and teachers like Matthew Hawn. 

Matthew Hawn's hearing will take place on Tuesday, December 14th, at 4:30 pm at the school board meeting room, 154 Blountville Bypass, Blountville, TN.

The Best Days Ever

 Yesterday was a very good day.

It was day we shipped out the second set of teacher books to the 185 classrooms enrolled this school year in Appalachian Literacy Initiative.

I'll back up a moment, and explain. Appalachian Literacy Initiative, ALI, is the non-profit my friend Tracy Griffith and I started four years ago to increase low-income Appalachian students' access to books. It began when I stumbled upon the horrifying statistic that, among fourth graders enrolled in public schools in the United States, those whose parents can afford to pay for school lunch (roughly $2/day) are two and a half times more likely to read at proficient level than those who get free school lunch.

In Bristol, Virginia, over 90% of the kids get free lunch.

Tracy was equally horrified. We started educating ourselves, and learned that the biggest barrier to reading success in low-income kids was simply access to books. So we started giving kids books. We enroll public school classrooms in Appalachia that have more than 50% of their students getting free lunch. Four times per year we mail the teachers sets of six books; the teachers keep those books and show them to their students. The students decide which of the books they'd like a copy of, the teachers send us the orders, and we send the students books. The end.

The student orders come in over a period of several weeks, so that while we're shipping books every week, the only time we have to do massive ship-outs, like yesterday, is when we're shipping the teacher sets. And this year, since we added schools into the program until just a few weeks ago, we staggered the first shipment of teacher sets. And our program has grown massively even since last year. All of that meant that yesterday was a Big Day. Tracy, Kathy, Shannon, and Caroline started working at 10 am. Another nonprofit, Bristol Faith in Action, has donated the use of the room we like to call ALI World Headquarters, but yesterday we took over the big conference room too. I had an appointment and got there late; when I did I started printing mailing labels and moving boxes into the lobby for the postman. We got everything finished around 3:30, and then Tracy and I hung around tidying up loose bits and discussing how our new organizational system worked. (Very well. Tracy's a genius at this stuff.) And then, just as we were about to leave, we got an email from Parents magazine.

Last June they came and filmed us for a segment for their website. We hadn't heard anything back from the producers until yesterday, when they sent us this: 

We sat and watched it together.
There have been other times when Tracy and I have stopped to consider what, with the help of so many others, we've managed to accomplish so far. The year we got to do book fairs for all the Bristol Virginia students--we'd be staggering out to the car at the end of the day, carrying the few remaining boxes of books, and we'd look at each other, and smile. We'd say, "Hey. We did good."
Yesterday was like that. Yesterday reminded me of the time I recall at the very end of the video, when I gave a kid some books, that he chose, and heard him say to a friend, as he walked out of the room, "This is the best. Day. Ever."

Light in the Darkness

 This morning I woke up at my usual-early time, 6:15. (My usual-late time is 7:30.) Thanks to Sunday's time change it was already light outside, and I felt a bit annoyed, because we can't actually change the amount of  daylight we receive, we can only shift it around, and I'd rather mine be at night. I grew up in northern Indiana when we didn't change clocks, not at all. All through elementary, middle and high school I went to school in the dark this time of year. I saw it as a regular thing, and, as such, I've never minded getting up in the dark. I don't even mind it in the middle of summer, because usually I'm only up in the dark because it's a horse show morning, and those are the best mornings. The sunrise over the stables and the horses murmuring for their breakfasts and chewing their hay--lovely.

Having it be dark by the time I'm doing evening chores--not.

Happily, it's pretty light and cheerful inside my house. My wonderful husband loves to decorate for Christmas. He's very good at it. He'll make plans and buy ornaments all year around. Up until now, however, I've made it a firm rule that no actual decorating takes place before Thanksgiving. I really enjoy Thanksgiving and I like to let it have a place all its own. All the years of our marriage we've started decorating for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. Forget Black Friday--in our house it's red and green.

This year my daughter is studying in England, where they don't celebrate Thanksgiving. Happily--joyfully--how amazing to travel again--we're taking Thanksgiving to her. We, including my son, will be in England the entire week of Thanksgiving, including both weekends.

Nearly a month ago my husband came up to me. "We need to talk." (I know him well. This is not as ominous as it sounds.) He said, "It's October 11th." (It was.) He said, "I'll never be able to get all my decorating finished in time if I don't start soon."

We could quibble over the precise meaning of "in time," but why? Why not enjoy some extra lovely? Particularly when I will not in fact be able to see a Christmas tree when I sit down to eat my Thanksgiving turkey. (No one can tell me if I'll be able to get a turkey in England. If not, it'll be Thanksgiving goose. I've never cooked a goose before, and it's about time.)

So this morning I schlepped down the stairs grousing that it was already light, and lo, there was the kitchen Christmas tree lit up in its red, white, and green glory. There was the living room tree, shining red and gold. There were the little trees, and the banister swag, all bright and cheerful. (The family room tree will be a live tree, so it really will go up after Thanksgiving.) 

It was a pretty glorious start to the day. 

I can already see what's going to happen next year.

Tossing the Office

 Lately I've been trying to do one thing every single day that's been on my List of Things Undone. It's a long list, which gives me a lot of options. Yesterday, for example, I stripped and re-bedded the stalls in the barn. Our horses live out nearly all the time: they spend the night of the Fourth of July indoors (fireworks) and stay in any time it's below fifteen degrees for an extended period of time, or below forty degrees and raining. Obviously I'd cleaned the stalls after July 4th, but since then I'd just scooped up any poop they happened to leave during the hour or so they're in to eat and so I can ride. Over time this mean we were down to very little sawdust and lots of just plain dust, along with some scorned bits of hay. So now we're ready for winter again. Yay, me.

Monday I got my car's oil changed, first time since before the pandemic.

Today I tossed my office.

My fellow knitters will probably be familiar with the term "tossing the stash." This is the periodic pulling out, looking over, and sorting all the yarn you've bought and stashed. I'm all for a good stash toss--usually enjoyable--but today called for much more than that. 

My office is an original part of the house we designed ourselves, and to say that I love it would be an understatement. It's shaped like an L, with a decent bit of floor space in the short end of the L, nearly entirely taken up by my floor loom. The loom blocks access to the built-in bookshelves, so eventually I plan to move it upstairs, but I've got a monstrously long warp on it right now and I'm not moving it until I finish weaving that. I haven't been weaving because books surrounded the loom and filled the bench I sit on when I weave, and--yeah. 

The long end of the L has counters lining both sides, with a space for my sewing machine, and culminates in a built in desk across the corner. I have windows on both sides that let it lots of light but that I can't see out of when I'm working, so I don't get quite so distracted. I have cabinets on both sides, too.

The countertop space gives me lots of room for books sorted into piles, and also papers, and also manuscripts in progress, or research notes, or miscellaneous things I put there that never leave on their own. The sewing machine and the counter beside it were heaped with works in progress and also mending and also a few bags I'd forgotten about, and then there were work bags full of yarn and--yeah.

I can work just fine in chaos for a surprisingly long time, but even I have limits and I'd reached them. 

So, today. Books first, starting with the ones around the loom. Now there are still piles. But they are properly sorted piles--research books I've read, research books I haven't, books I've read and plan to keep forever, books I've read and need to rehome. Books I'd borrowed from ALI and need to return. Books I've already purchased as holiday gifts. Books I wrote--ok, those go in a spot in the cabinet. Books I need to read soon, sorted into piles: fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and things that require me to sit down and take notes. 

The countertop with papers wasn't too hard. I knew what everything was and more or less where it should go. But then, oh, reader, I delved into the pile of yarn and projects and stuff. And then I got a wild hare and pulled out all the miscellaneous project bags from beneath the sewing machine and I dumped their contents out too. The dogs ran and hid. I started sorting.

It was amazing what all I found. A multitude of socks, one each of some very complicated patterns. I was in a Sock Club, lo these eight years ago. Every month we'd get a lovely yarn and a beautiful pattern, and I'd have just about enough time to knit one sock before the next month rolled around. 

No, that's not true. I actually was in the sock club for several years, and I knit many, many pairs of socks. The single socks were the ones where I didn't enjoy the first sock enough to knit the second. Once I'd faced that I understood that I needed to do something else with both the socks and the basket. 

I also found a pair of socks that were entirely knit except Kitchner stitching one toe. Kitchner stitching the toe takes about five minutes, but every single time I have to look up the directions, because every time I think I remember I do it backwards and have to rip it out. 

I found an entire sweater, finished, that I made for myself, probably at least 15 years ago as I distinctly remember working on it during one of my son's little league games. (His coach once grinned at me from the field and yelled, "Hey! There's no knitting in baseball!") Now that I'm a much better knitter I understand why I never wore it. 

I found three pairs of scissors, including my good ones. I found some projects I had to stare at for a good long time to remember what the item was. I frogged back quite a few small things on the grounds that it would take me longer to remember what I was doing than to just get that far with something new.

I filled a paper bag with perfectly nice yarn to give away. I filled another with trash, including many nice pieces of yarn that I forced myself to discard. Apparently any string greater than six inches long can count as a nice piece of yarn, one I might save for future use. I was uncharacteristically ruthless today.

I found a hot glue gun. No explanation there.

I found several quarters, which didn't make sense, and several dollar bills, which did. (Dollar bills are exactly 6" long, which makes them handy makeshift rulers, especially for socks.) (I supposed twenty-dollar bills are also 6" long, but I didn't tuck any of those into my project bags.)

I sorted and re-stashed and I'm pretty stunned by the result. Honestly, I could see myself doing this again, in another five or six years.

Good-bye, Jerry Pinkney

 Famed Black children's book illustrator Jerry Pinkney died yesterday of a heart attack, at age 81. He was prolific and precise and his illustrations, primarily in watercolor, were magical. Though he's probably best known for his wordless Caldecott-winning masterpiece The Lion and the Mouse, my favorites of his books were less well known.

Many years ago--I'm trying to remember--probably fifteen? around there--my children would have been eleven and eight?--anyway, Jerry Pinkney was the visiting author/illustrator at my children's small Catholic grade school. St. Anne's had a visiting author or illustrator come every year, and any child who'd read a certain number of books on the Virginia state book award list was invited to breakfast with the author/illustrator before school began. I'm assuming one or both of my kids was at the breakfast with Jerry; I know for sure I was. 

I remember his quiet dignity. I remember how he spoke directly to the children. I remember him saying, "There's something you might be interested to see," and pulling a sheaf of white paper out of his briefcase. The children clustered around. It was his preliminary sketches for the book Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. A mouse floated up to the sky on a leaf turned into a boat. Even in rough pencil sketches the art came alive.

Later that day, in one of his presentations, he showed a slide from the book Black Cowboy, Wild Horses, written by Julius Lester. The illustrations, as you might imagine, were absolutely packed with herds of horses, all caught in the middle of fluid motion. People who don't understand horses well often have trouble drawing them, but Jerry's illustrations were absolute perfection. Their realism and vivacity stunned me so much that I raised my hand. "How did you get those horses so right?" I asked him.

He told me that he watched videos of old Westerns, stopping the film frame after frame. "For each horse," he said, "I had to know where every hoof came from and where it would go next." That was of course the secret--to know how the motion began and ended, even while you were only capturing it in the middle. But it would have been so much work. Jerry shuddered. "I'll never draw horses again."

Jerry Pinkney was honored with the American Library Association's lifetime achievement award, the Children's Literature Legacy Award, in 2016, the year I won a Newbery Honor for The War That Saved My Life. The award dinner and speeches for the Newbery, Caldecott, and Legacy Awards finished around 10:30 at night; the honorees then stood in a receiving line for 3 hours. It was brilliant and fabulous and entirely overwhelming. Afterwards--one thirty in the morning--we all gathered for what has become one of my favorite photographs ever. Writers and illustrators are often terrible introverts but by that point we were all so exhausted that we were completely relaxed, laughing and leaning on each other.

I sat in the front row on a chair beside Jerry. His wife, author Gloria Jean Pinkney, who was wearing the most fabulous hat, came over to him. "Button your coat," she said. He waved her off. 

"Button your coat," she said. He waved her off again.

"Jerry," she said, "your belly's pooching out. Button that coat!" He buttoned it.

My friend author Carole Boston Weatherford phrased it best: rest in pictures, Jerry.