Jennifer R. Hubbard's Blog, page 78
April 11, 2012
Early influences: writers as readers
Often when I read the biographies or letters of writers, I find out about times--especially early in their careers--where they read voraciously and studiously. They read and reread, tore through the entire oeuvre of author after author, checked out their favorite writers' influences. They memorized poems or passages. Sometimes they imitated their literary heroes for a while. They compared and contrasted their favorite writers with other writers, figuring out what made one style appeal to them and another not.
I'm reading some of Jack Kerouac's early letters at the same time I'm rereading Ann Patchett's Truth and Beauty (the story of her friendship with Lucy Grealy). I'm going back and forth between the books because sometimes that's just how I read. And on one hand, I have Kerouac discussing Wolfe and Tolstoy with his young writer friends, and comparing inward-looking authors with outward-looking authors. On the other hand, I have Ann Patchett and Lucy Grealy at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, talking books and trading writing ideas, Lucy memorizing passages from One Hundred Years of Solitude.
So many writers start with a love of books, and at some point they move from just enjoying them to studying them--although the studying is also a form of enjoyment. It brings to mind my multiple rereads of The Catcher in the Rye, trying to figure out how Salinger tapped into such an incredibly strong voice. Studying Kerouac's The Dharma Bums and Visions of Cody and Desolation Angels to catch the rhythm, to realize how important rhythm is even in prose. Picking apart Carson McCullers's The Member of the Wedding to see how she managed to imbue seemingly ordinary events with larger significance. Learning about symbolism and taking the story where it needs to go from Golding's Lord of the Flies. Despairing that I would never be as skilful with English as Vladimir Nabokov, even though it's my first language and wasn't his. Practically jumping out of my chair at the big reveals in A Tale of Two Cities (the secret of Mme Defarge's knitting) and Invitation to a Beheading (when we discover M'sieur Pierre's occupation--I mean, seriously, is that not the most awesome scene EVER, literarily speaking?).
The library is our school, and we never stop learning. But there's something special about those early times, and the books we read then, the books that become our own influences.
I'm reading some of Jack Kerouac's early letters at the same time I'm rereading Ann Patchett's Truth and Beauty (the story of her friendship with Lucy Grealy). I'm going back and forth between the books because sometimes that's just how I read. And on one hand, I have Kerouac discussing Wolfe and Tolstoy with his young writer friends, and comparing inward-looking authors with outward-looking authors. On the other hand, I have Ann Patchett and Lucy Grealy at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, talking books and trading writing ideas, Lucy memorizing passages from One Hundred Years of Solitude.
So many writers start with a love of books, and at some point they move from just enjoying them to studying them--although the studying is also a form of enjoyment. It brings to mind my multiple rereads of The Catcher in the Rye, trying to figure out how Salinger tapped into such an incredibly strong voice. Studying Kerouac's The Dharma Bums and Visions of Cody and Desolation Angels to catch the rhythm, to realize how important rhythm is even in prose. Picking apart Carson McCullers's The Member of the Wedding to see how she managed to imbue seemingly ordinary events with larger significance. Learning about symbolism and taking the story where it needs to go from Golding's Lord of the Flies. Despairing that I would never be as skilful with English as Vladimir Nabokov, even though it's my first language and wasn't his. Practically jumping out of my chair at the big reveals in A Tale of Two Cities (the secret of Mme Defarge's knitting) and Invitation to a Beheading (when we discover M'sieur Pierre's occupation--I mean, seriously, is that not the most awesome scene EVER, literarily speaking?).
The library is our school, and we never stop learning. But there's something special about those early times, and the books we read then, the books that become our own influences.
April 10, 2012
Muse
Occasionally while roaming the internetz, I'll see someone tearing into the idea of the Muse. Generally what they're tearing into is the idea of some inspirational sprite that will only alight when conditions are perfect, like a speshul snowflake landing on the writer's (immaculately groomed and glitter-dusted) eyelashes.
And their rage makes me laugh.
Because when I talk about the Muse, I'm mostly kidding. Longtime readers of this blog may remember imaginary conversations I've had with the Muse, which were ways for me to complain about this crazy avocation in an (I hope) entertaining way.
But here's the aspect of the Muse about which I'm serious: She isn't some airy sprite who floats into the writing office sprinkling fairy dust and bestseller ideas. For me, she's that inner voice that says, You must write this story. As in: You must WRITE, instead of the fifty other useful things you could be doing. As in: You must write THIS story and no other, because this is the story that is nagging to be told. As in: YOU must write this story, because nobody else will write it quite this way.
The Muse is not sweet and fragile. She's tough. She has an attitude. She puts the story first. She tells you to for Pete's sake stop worrying about what everyone else is going to think about your work, and just write it already. Yes, tell the scary parts and the sad parts and the parts that will make people squirm. Be fearless, or at least write as if you are.
And their rage makes me laugh.
Because when I talk about the Muse, I'm mostly kidding. Longtime readers of this blog may remember imaginary conversations I've had with the Muse, which were ways for me to complain about this crazy avocation in an (I hope) entertaining way.
But here's the aspect of the Muse about which I'm serious: She isn't some airy sprite who floats into the writing office sprinkling fairy dust and bestseller ideas. For me, she's that inner voice that says, You must write this story. As in: You must WRITE, instead of the fifty other useful things you could be doing. As in: You must write THIS story and no other, because this is the story that is nagging to be told. As in: YOU must write this story, because nobody else will write it quite this way.
The Muse is not sweet and fragile. She's tough. She has an attitude. She puts the story first. She tells you to for Pete's sake stop worrying about what everyone else is going to think about your work, and just write it already. Yes, tell the scary parts and the sad parts and the parts that will make people squirm. Be fearless, or at least write as if you are.
April 8, 2012
Buzz-hunting
I'm going to coin a term here: buzz-hunting. Buzz-hunting = trying to answer the question, "How'm I doing?" via the internet. (Or, similarly, "How's my book doing?") It includes self-Googling but so much more: Google alerts, blog stats, web stats, reading nomination lists, reading reviews, checking rankings and ratings, etc. I gather there is a thing called Klout that will assign a number to your alleged online influence. There are many ways to buzz-hunt, but those are just a few.
I call it buzz-hunting because the hunter is not only seeking buzz about him- or herself, but because it can also be used to obtain mood-altering emotional hits. I know there are people who can mine all these data with perfect equanimity, who can use it to craft promotional strategies and make decisions about how they invest their online resources. Then there are those for whom buzz-hunting is just an emotional roller-coaster.
I've always tried to be selective about buzz-hunting: only to engage in it when I'm feeling centered and ready to accept whatever I find; not to waste too much time doing it; not to let my well-being be determined by what I find. I try to do it on my own terms, and consequently I've never used alerts, for fear of having negative things thrown at me when I'm not ready. But back in February, I reached an unhappy place with it. It happened to be Ash Wednesday when I decided I wanted to step back from it, and so I decided that, even though I haven't given up anything for Lent in years, this would be a good year to do so. And I figured that giving it up would increase my availability for inner reflection, which would also be in keeping with Lent.
The one thing I explicitly allowed myself was my weekly Bookscan check, because I use those numbers for actual practical things such as royalty projections, which help with my estimated taxes. Except for that and a couple of lapses (hey, I'm not perfect), I did manage to keep my resolution.
It was, in some ways, like being in a vacuum. My mind was quieter. I developed a passionate curiosity about a few pieces of information I would've liked, but I also had an overwhelming sense of relief. My books were out there, making their own way, and I did not have to agonize over how every single reader received them. A few kind people sent me fan tweets or emails (which are always appreciated), but I was not following all the quantitative measures by which we can rank ourselves on the internet. One thing I've noticed by never having alerts is that, if anything really big and wonderful happens, somebody will email me about it. YALSA list nominations; big writeups in the paper; state list nominations: when they happened, I found out about them eventually.
Now that the season is over, I've made a short list of the kinds of buzz-hunt measures I do want to track—a much shorter list than my pre-Lent habits. And I'm willing to give those up again if they make me unhappy. The weird thing about buzz-hunting is that even when you find only good stuff out there, it doesn't necessarily lead to satisfaction. Sometimes it triggers a craving for constant reinforcement.
By saying all this, I'm not saying that buzz-hunting is bad or that nobody should do it. I'm just sharing my own experience in case it is helpful to anyone else. Everyone has his or her own comfort level with this stuff. I do want new writers to know that if other people tell you you have to get Google alerts or track your blog stats or whatever: No, you don't have to. You can, and you might like it and find it helpful, but it's up to you.
I call it buzz-hunting because the hunter is not only seeking buzz about him- or herself, but because it can also be used to obtain mood-altering emotional hits. I know there are people who can mine all these data with perfect equanimity, who can use it to craft promotional strategies and make decisions about how they invest their online resources. Then there are those for whom buzz-hunting is just an emotional roller-coaster.
I've always tried to be selective about buzz-hunting: only to engage in it when I'm feeling centered and ready to accept whatever I find; not to waste too much time doing it; not to let my well-being be determined by what I find. I try to do it on my own terms, and consequently I've never used alerts, for fear of having negative things thrown at me when I'm not ready. But back in February, I reached an unhappy place with it. It happened to be Ash Wednesday when I decided I wanted to step back from it, and so I decided that, even though I haven't given up anything for Lent in years, this would be a good year to do so. And I figured that giving it up would increase my availability for inner reflection, which would also be in keeping with Lent.
The one thing I explicitly allowed myself was my weekly Bookscan check, because I use those numbers for actual practical things such as royalty projections, which help with my estimated taxes. Except for that and a couple of lapses (hey, I'm not perfect), I did manage to keep my resolution.
It was, in some ways, like being in a vacuum. My mind was quieter. I developed a passionate curiosity about a few pieces of information I would've liked, but I also had an overwhelming sense of relief. My books were out there, making their own way, and I did not have to agonize over how every single reader received them. A few kind people sent me fan tweets or emails (which are always appreciated), but I was not following all the quantitative measures by which we can rank ourselves on the internet. One thing I've noticed by never having alerts is that, if anything really big and wonderful happens, somebody will email me about it. YALSA list nominations; big writeups in the paper; state list nominations: when they happened, I found out about them eventually.
Now that the season is over, I've made a short list of the kinds of buzz-hunt measures I do want to track—a much shorter list than my pre-Lent habits. And I'm willing to give those up again if they make me unhappy. The weird thing about buzz-hunting is that even when you find only good stuff out there, it doesn't necessarily lead to satisfaction. Sometimes it triggers a craving for constant reinforcement.
By saying all this, I'm not saying that buzz-hunting is bad or that nobody should do it. I'm just sharing my own experience in case it is helpful to anyone else. Everyone has his or her own comfort level with this stuff. I do want new writers to know that if other people tell you you have to get Google alerts or track your blog stats or whatever: No, you don't have to. You can, and you might like it and find it helpful, but it's up to you.
April 6, 2012
Suddenly, a bagpiper
My husband and I took a hike in a park today. So did hundreds of other people.
It's not uncommon to encounter people hiking on the woods trails, or bicycling, pushing strollers, and walking dogs on the flatter gravel trail. We saw all of that today. What was uncommon was the guy decked out in tam and kilt, standing on an outcropping of rock, playing the bagpipes.
Bagpipes evoke strong childhood memories in me, because I had a relative who was a bagpiper. So today, my husband and I sat on a bench with a good view of the piper and listened for a while.
It was one of those random, inexplicable things that just happen. Maybe it will end up in a story (the inevitable thought that writers have when encountering the unusual, the unexpected, the memorable). Maybe it won't. In real life, it was just a surprising, touching, enjoyable break, brought to me by a total stranger whose motives I don't know. In a story, it would have significance of some sort, and the character would be known to me, his mind and motives accessible.
In a story, everything has meaning. In life, too, everything has meaning, but we cannot know the full story of the world; we only know little pieces of the parts that directly concern us. The rest, we fill in, or walk away from never knowing the answers.
It's not uncommon to encounter people hiking on the woods trails, or bicycling, pushing strollers, and walking dogs on the flatter gravel trail. We saw all of that today. What was uncommon was the guy decked out in tam and kilt, standing on an outcropping of rock, playing the bagpipes.
Bagpipes evoke strong childhood memories in me, because I had a relative who was a bagpiper. So today, my husband and I sat on a bench with a good view of the piper and listened for a while.
It was one of those random, inexplicable things that just happen. Maybe it will end up in a story (the inevitable thought that writers have when encountering the unusual, the unexpected, the memorable). Maybe it won't. In real life, it was just a surprising, touching, enjoyable break, brought to me by a total stranger whose motives I don't know. In a story, it would have significance of some sort, and the character would be known to me, his mind and motives accessible.
In a story, everything has meaning. In life, too, everything has meaning, but we cannot know the full story of the world; we only know little pieces of the parts that directly concern us. The rest, we fill in, or walk away from never knowing the answers.
April 4, 2012
Staying open to the world
My writerly advice for the day is this:
Be amazed by the world.
Let it dazzle you.
Listen, taste, observe.
Focus on just one thing.
Focus on everything.
Be amazed.
Be amazed by the world.
Let it dazzle you.
Listen, taste, observe.
Focus on just one thing.
Focus on everything.
Be amazed.
April 2, 2012
Listening
I had a wonderful weekend at the New York City Teen Author Festival, but a detailed recap isn't really in me right now. Picture thought-provoking panels, congenial company, writerly conversation, and a bookstore jam-packed with YA fans, and you'll get the gist. (Incidentally, if you would like to get a signed copy of Try Not to Breathe, I left some signed stock at Books of Wonder. Even if you're not in New York, you can call the store and order that way. But if you are in New York, I recommend visiting the store in person--they sell not only books, but cupcakes!)
At the moment, I'm in a listening and observing mood. I'm mulling over some changes in a story I've been working on. And so I'm attuned to the inner voice, which is sometimes necessary, and is the most useful writing tip I can offer today.
Along with this from Jon Gibbs: Don't forget to have fun!
Finally, if you haven't already, please visit my library-loving giveaway, which is still open. As things stand right now, chances are excellent that if you make a donation to your library, I'll end up matching it (see the post for more details).
At the moment, I'm in a listening and observing mood. I'm mulling over some changes in a story I've been working on. And so I'm attuned to the inner voice, which is sometimes necessary, and is the most useful writing tip I can offer today.
Along with this from Jon Gibbs: Don't forget to have fun!
Finally, if you haven't already, please visit my library-loving giveaway, which is still open. As things stand right now, chances are excellent that if you make a donation to your library, I'll end up matching it (see the post for more details).
March 30, 2012
Wanderlove and First Day on Earth
I'm so happy to have read these books back to back. Two great books in a row! And more than that--two books so different from much of what I've been seeing in the YA section.
Cecil Castellucci's First Day on Earth features a male narrator, Malcolm, who is struggling with an alcoholic mother and an absent father. Also, he doesn't fit in at school. But this is anything but a typical problem novel: he also believes he was abducted by aliens, and that a man he's just met may be an extraterrestrial being. Is Malcolm delusional--are these alien-abduction fantasies just his way of coping with a difficult life? And is his new friend just another delusional person? Or is Malcolm really in touch with life on other planets?
I mention this book especially because I think people who like my work would like it: male narrator, spare style, short length, and despite the reference to extraterrestrials, it reads like a realistic contemporary novel.
Wanderlove, by Kirsten Hubbard (no relation to me), is about an art student's trip to Guatemala and Belize. Except that she's not an art student--she gave that up for her (now ex-)boyfriend. Except that maybe it wasn't really him, but her own fears, that pushed her away from her dream.
What I most like about Wanderlove is its setting. The main character, Bria, starts out cautiously with a tour group, but is then invited to leave the group and travel with a few backpackers. Kirsten Hubbard perfectly captures the joys and disorientation of traveling, the conflict between taking risks and staying safe: how absorbing new sights can be, but how scary it can be to plunge into life where you don't know the rules, the customs, the culture--the insects!
source of recommended reads: bought
Cecil Castellucci's First Day on Earth features a male narrator, Malcolm, who is struggling with an alcoholic mother and an absent father. Also, he doesn't fit in at school. But this is anything but a typical problem novel: he also believes he was abducted by aliens, and that a man he's just met may be an extraterrestrial being. Is Malcolm delusional--are these alien-abduction fantasies just his way of coping with a difficult life? And is his new friend just another delusional person? Or is Malcolm really in touch with life on other planets?
I mention this book especially because I think people who like my work would like it: male narrator, spare style, short length, and despite the reference to extraterrestrials, it reads like a realistic contemporary novel.
Wanderlove, by Kirsten Hubbard (no relation to me), is about an art student's trip to Guatemala and Belize. Except that she's not an art student--she gave that up for her (now ex-)boyfriend. Except that maybe it wasn't really him, but her own fears, that pushed her away from her dream.
What I most like about Wanderlove is its setting. The main character, Bria, starts out cautiously with a tour group, but is then invited to leave the group and travel with a few backpackers. Kirsten Hubbard perfectly captures the joys and disorientation of traveling, the conflict between taking risks and staying safe: how absorbing new sights can be, but how scary it can be to plunge into life where you don't know the rules, the customs, the culture--the insects!
source of recommended reads: bought
March 29, 2012
For my library and yours (a giveaway hop with library love)
For three years in a row, I ran a challenge on my blog to raise awareness and money for libraries. In those three years, the participating blogs raised more than $8000 for libraries. I am grateful that so many marvelous people participated. (Yes, you!)
This year, I will not be organizing the blog challenge in its previous form. Online networks have stretched out thinner and wider, and people are spread across more sites than ever before: Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and more every day. The power in a blog challenge comes from the number of participants. Regrettably, it has become difficult to draw the necessary concentration of donor blogs and commenters.
But I'm not leaving my library high and dry. This year, I will again make my spring donation. And as it happens, Kathy of the "I am a reader, not a writer" blog is conducting a charity-themed blog hop/giveaway right now, which is the time of year when I've always done the library challenge!
So here's how we're celebrating the Power! of! Libraries!
1. If you are at least 13 years old and can receive mail in the US, leave a comment below with a way to contact you by the end of April 4, and you will be entered in the giveaway drawing for a signed copy of my second novel, Try Not to Breathe, about a boy recovering from a suicide attempt and his friendship with a girl who is trying to reach her late father through psychics.
2. If you want to donate to your own local library (or bookmobile, or literacy-related charity like RIF), let me know that, too, and I will randomly pick one of you and match your donation to your library, up to $200. (You do not have to donate any money anywhere to be entered in the drawing for my book.)
3. If you decide to blog about the value of libraries, please leave a link to the exact post in your comment. (I might just go crazy and decide to pull another name for a book, and if I do, it would surely be from that smaller pool of such dedicated library fans!)
The Official Rules:
You must be at least 13 years old and able to receive mail in the US.
I reserve the right to pick another winner if the original winner does not claim the book or cannot provide sufficient proof of a library donation. I reserve the right to cancel the contest if prize is not claimed in a timely manner.
One comment per person. Winner will be selected randomly from the entries received on or before midnight EDT on April 4 (i.e., the minute April 5 starts).
I reserve the right to cancel the contest if technical difficulties (e.g., caused by internet or software failures) interfere with my ability to receive and track the entries.
Comments may be left at either my LiveJournal or Blogspot blogs, but must be left on the Giveaway hop entry.
Behind the cut, other participants in the giveaway hop (links may not be live until March 30):
This year, I will not be organizing the blog challenge in its previous form. Online networks have stretched out thinner and wider, and people are spread across more sites than ever before: Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and more every day. The power in a blog challenge comes from the number of participants. Regrettably, it has become difficult to draw the necessary concentration of donor blogs and commenters.
But I'm not leaving my library high and dry. This year, I will again make my spring donation. And as it happens, Kathy of the "I am a reader, not a writer" blog is conducting a charity-themed blog hop/giveaway right now, which is the time of year when I've always done the library challenge!
So here's how we're celebrating the Power! of! Libraries!
1. If you are at least 13 years old and can receive mail in the US, leave a comment below with a way to contact you by the end of April 4, and you will be entered in the giveaway drawing for a signed copy of my second novel, Try Not to Breathe, about a boy recovering from a suicide attempt and his friendship with a girl who is trying to reach her late father through psychics.
2. If you want to donate to your own local library (or bookmobile, or literacy-related charity like RIF), let me know that, too, and I will randomly pick one of you and match your donation to your library, up to $200. (You do not have to donate any money anywhere to be entered in the drawing for my book.)
3. If you decide to blog about the value of libraries, please leave a link to the exact post in your comment. (I might just go crazy and decide to pull another name for a book, and if I do, it would surely be from that smaller pool of such dedicated library fans!)
The Official Rules:
You must be at least 13 years old and able to receive mail in the US.
I reserve the right to pick another winner if the original winner does not claim the book or cannot provide sufficient proof of a library donation. I reserve the right to cancel the contest if prize is not claimed in a timely manner.
One comment per person. Winner will be selected randomly from the entries received on or before midnight EDT on April 4 (i.e., the minute April 5 starts).
I reserve the right to cancel the contest if technical difficulties (e.g., caused by internet or software failures) interfere with my ability to receive and track the entries.
Comments may be left at either my LiveJournal or Blogspot blogs, but must be left on the Giveaway hop entry.
Behind the cut, other participants in the giveaway hop (links may not be live until March 30):
March 27, 2012
Luck and links
Writers talk a lot about the role luck plays in our writing and publishing lives, but I wanted to explore how we use luck within the stories we tell. I blogged about this topic at YA Outside the Lines, where I'll be blogging once a month. An excerpt: "Generally, we don't want characters to solve their problems by winning the lottery, or to have their downfalls through random accident. We want them to rise and fall by their own efforts—by what they learn, or fail to learn."
And here are two bonus links for the day:
Author2Author had a feature on cliches used in query letters. I know I recently posted about how we shouldn't get too uptight about cliches, but this is worth reading, if only for the take-home lesson that specificity is a great thing. For example, "Jonah has to get the medicine back to his village before the virus kills everyone," instead of, "Jonah must act urgently to save the day."
Michelle Davidson Argyle listed 6 things she wishes she'd known earlier about being a writer. Worth pinning on a wall. A sample: "I don't like NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) much, but it did save me the one time I did it. It saved me from working on the same book forever and ever and ever."
And here are two bonus links for the day:
Author2Author had a feature on cliches used in query letters. I know I recently posted about how we shouldn't get too uptight about cliches, but this is worth reading, if only for the take-home lesson that specificity is a great thing. For example, "Jonah has to get the medicine back to his village before the virus kills everyone," instead of, "Jonah must act urgently to save the day."
Michelle Davidson Argyle listed 6 things she wishes she'd known earlier about being a writer. Worth pinning on a wall. A sample: "I don't like NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) much, but it did save me the one time I did it. It saved me from working on the same book forever and ever and ever."
March 26, 2012
Books of our youth: Inspiration
Here's another in my series of guest posts on the books we read in our youth that stick with us. Today's guest blogger is Ann Malaspina.
The 149-page novel A Single Light (Harper & Row, 1968) by Maia Wojciechowska (winner of the 1965 Newbery Medal for
Shadow of a Bull
) is one of my reading touchstones. Recently I picked up the worn first edition I've had since elementary school and was again swept away by the story of a deaf and mute girl cruelly rejected by her poor rural Spanish village. The story involves faith, mass hysteria, and the need for every person to be loved--all as relevant today as ever. Some critics say the novel is too preachy, or that it falls apart in the second half, and maybe they're a little bit right, but I still love Wojciechowska's story-telling and her simply drawn characters. Also, aspiring writers should read A Single Light if only for sentences like this: "Often at night she would close her eyes tight and she would see stars, not as bright as the ones in the sky but bright enough to light up the dark." Born in Poland in 1927, Wojciechowska and her family escaped the Nazis at the outbreak of World War II. She died in Long Branch, New Jersey, in 2002. Sadly, A Single Light seems to be out of print, but you might be able to find it at the public library.
Ann Malaspina's latest picture book is Touch the Sky: Alice Coachman, Olympic High Jumper (Albert Whitman & Co., 2012).
The 149-page novel A Single Light (Harper & Row, 1968) by Maia Wojciechowska (winner of the 1965 Newbery Medal for
Shadow of a Bull
) is one of my reading touchstones. Recently I picked up the worn first edition I've had since elementary school and was again swept away by the story of a deaf and mute girl cruelly rejected by her poor rural Spanish village. The story involves faith, mass hysteria, and the need for every person to be loved--all as relevant today as ever. Some critics say the novel is too preachy, or that it falls apart in the second half, and maybe they're a little bit right, but I still love Wojciechowska's story-telling and her simply drawn characters. Also, aspiring writers should read A Single Light if only for sentences like this: "Often at night she would close her eyes tight and she would see stars, not as bright as the ones in the sky but bright enough to light up the dark." Born in Poland in 1927, Wojciechowska and her family escaped the Nazis at the outbreak of World War II. She died in Long Branch, New Jersey, in 2002. Sadly, A Single Light seems to be out of print, but you might be able to find it at the public library. Ann Malaspina's latest picture book is Touch the Sky: Alice Coachman, Olympic High Jumper (Albert Whitman & Co., 2012).
