Jo Knowles's Blog, page 25

Giving Thanks

On this cold and dreary day, there's a whole lot to be thankful for.

First, for Lisa Wolfson (aka L.K. Madigan),
for starting Thankful Thursday. And for all the people who remember and love Lisa, who keep the tradition going.

Second, for Carrie Jones and Megan Kelley Hall,
editors of Dear Bully: Seventy Authors Tell Their Stories.

The book is now available, and I'm honored to have an essay in it called "Kicking Stones at the Sun." You can listen to an interview with contributors Carrie Jones, Carolyn Mackler and Eric Luper on NPR's Talk of the Nation HERE. Carrie, Carolyn and Eric did an AMAZING job on the show. I was so impressed with their thoughtful, honest answers.

Third, for our JoNoWriMo+1.5 community
I love the enthusiasm everyone has when they sign up. If you'd like to join us, you can go HERE to leave a comment and let me know.

Fourth, my next book, SEE YOU AT HARRY'S, now has an entry at Goodreads.
This makes it feel awfully real. IndieBound and Amazon have entries too. There isn't any information about them yet, and I'm still waiting to see a cover, but it's getting close!

Fifth, the kindle version of JUMPING OFF SWINGS is part of a September Sale Feature! on Amazon.

It's one of 100 books "hand picked by our editors" (heh) to be on sale for the month of September. You can get a copy for just $3.99!

Here is something interesting: I keep track of sales (as much as that's possible) on NovelRank and so, when I found out about this sale I thought it would be interesting to see what affect this special would have on Kindle sales. So far, in just 8 days since the sale started, I have sold THREE TIMES more Kindle copies than I did last month without the sale. Of course, it's cheaper, so royalties will reflect that. But it's interesting to add to the conversation about cheap books going into more hands, and how many more you have to sell to earn the same amount at regular price. I just wish this sale had been via IndieBound instead.

Sixth, my son is *knocks on wood* enjoying middle school!
This is his first real week at school with classes and homework and soccer practice. He seems to be loving every minute of it and I cannot even begin to describe how relieved this makes me feel. I'm so happy for him. :-)

Seventh, it is my Birthday.
And I am really happy to be here. My sister, niece and nephews just called to sing to me, and my inbox is filled with wall notifications from Facebook. You all really know how to make a gal feel loved.

Thank you!

xoxo

How to help Vermont libraries

Via kmessner :

Grace Greene sent me a link to the Vermont Department of Libraries website, where they're asking folks to hold off on sending book donations for now, and instead consider writing a check for a fund to help with recovery for all the Vermont libraries affected by Irene. Here's the address:

Vermont Public Library Foundation
c/o State Librarian
Vermont Department of Libraries
109 State Street
Montpelier, VT 05609

There's also an indie bookseller partnership set up for the heavily damaged West Hartford, VT Library. You can call The Norwich Bookstore at 802-649-1114 or visit their website to donate to a gift card for the library.

Note: For more on how you can help other libraries hurt by Irene, visit Kate's helpful blog. Thanks!

New Beginnings (With Prizes!!)

Today is filled with new beginnings.

First, my long time LJ and personal friend (and writing partner!), Debbi Michiko Florence, is launching a new blog!



It's called "Debtastic Reads: Author interviews & book buzz in middle grade and teen fiction" and it's going to be a fantastic and inspiring resource for writers of all levels. CONGRATULATIONS, Debbi!

I am honored to be Debbi's first official guest author! Today, Debbi and I discuss PEARL, sparks, cooking and nicknames.

NOTE: If you leave a comment on Debbi's blog under the entry, you'll be entered to win a personalized, signed copy of PEARL! Just click HERE and leave a comment for Debbi to enter to win! :-)

Second, my son is finally starting middle school.
After a brief orientation, Irene hit and the town suffered horrible flooding, forcing the school to close for a week. This past week has been full of anticipation, worry, boredom, and any number of things we all go through when we're waiting for something BIG to happen. I don't know who was experiencing these feelings more--me, or him. :-) But now, he's off. And I hope he was a wonderful day.

Third, while I wait to hear back from my agent on my submission, it's time to start a new project.
I've been picking away at this one from time to time since we moved to Vermont seven years ago. Until now, I've always been a bit too afraid of it. But the idea has never let go, and now the possibilities are beginning to take hold. Maybe I'm finally ready. I know I won't be diving in, but I think I will at least dip in a toe to test the waters. I plan to make this be my project for this year's JoNoWriMo+1.5 Challenge. Hope you'll join me!

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Monday morning warm-up:

How about you? What new beginnings are you looking forward to? Feeling nervous about? Dreading?

Jumping

Today is the day I chose to set my self-imposed goal of "finishing" my WIP. (Meaning, getting it in good enough shape to share with my agent.) I have been having a lot of doubts lately. A lot of fears. I only have 3 chapters left to revise, and as I inch closer to the end, these doubts and fears grow. What if he hates it? What if my editor hates it? What if this was the dumbest idea ever?

What if what if what if...

Yesterday was a particularly hard day.

But then the mail came.

Did I mention we haven't had mail since last Saturday because the mail truck couldn't get here, thanks to Irene?

But yesterday, it came.

And inside, was this:

An advance copy of the brand new paperback of Jumping Off Swings, which will be available in October.

I am choosing to take this as a good sign, since my WIP is a companion piece to SWINGS. How could I not? The timing is just too odd and perfect.

Like a whisper, to keep going.

As I sit here working with the book beside me, I can sense my character inside those pages, waiting for me to finish his story at long last. Whispering, "Hurry up! Jump!"

So here I go.

And just for fun, here is a slideshow I made of all my friends and loved ones taking the jump, too:
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Have a great weekend, everyone! I hope you all do a little jumping of your own.

xo

Irene

Kate Messner invited bloggers to blog about their experiences with Irene for a special project she's putting together called "Created in the Path of Irene."

Here's my account, starting yesterday morning.

Sunday, 9:04am
It's been raining for 12 hours.
The backyard has a second pond that wasn't there last night.
I can see treetops swaying through the skylight.
I think of the hundreds of birds who stopped in our yard yesterday, to the delight of our indoor cats, who chirped at them, pressing their noses against the glass door.
My son and I wondered what southern place they were headed to, and whether they knew they were heading into a storm.

Sunday 9:55am
Writing to the steady drip drip drip of water plunking into the two buckets we have set under the skylight in the bathroom as my husband, who just finished repainting the ceiling this summer, paces. Muttering.
We're sure it's only a matter of time before we lose power, but we feel ready.


Sunday 1:09pm
We still have power but feel increasingly powerless.
The pond looks about to overflow.
The ducks have moved to the new ponds in the lawn, greedily snapping up confused slugs as fast as they can.
We watched them try to go back into our stream-fed pond but they could barely swim against the current.
It is a bubbling mess of mud and debris.
I can't believe it hasn't flooded over the bank yet.



Sunday 1:23pm
The basement has begun to flood.
It's not too bac, but we've been moving all that we can to higher ground.
At this point, we can mop up every half hour stay on top of it.
We wander from window to window, watching the yard turn into a giant pond.
The real pond is still intact but the water is just gushing through.
We wonder if the beaver dam above us broke, but it's too crazy out there to tramp into the woods to check.

Sunday 3:03pm
Still raining.
Went outside to check out the pond and made a video.
Here it is:



Normally, this pond is nearly dried up. The stream was barely a trickle two days ago. Now, the stream is almost flowing up and over the lower bridge.





Our neighbors called to tell us their driveway and part of the road is washed out.
We're going back outside to check and make sure they're OK.







Here is the video we took when we went out):

That gushing water is coming from our property, where the stream gathers momentum.

Sunday 5:56pm
So happy to still have power!
Many roads are now closed.
Poor Woodstock Farmer's Market is underwater.
We're slowly hearing stories come in about all the flooding.
We're just aching for the businesses who are going to feel the pain.
The first official day of school has been canceled.

Sunday 6:53pm
Seeing photo after photo of flooded towns, covered bridges torn to pieces, streets under water.
Feeling very lucky we've gotten this far with power and just some leaks.
My heart is hurting for everyone affected by the flooding.

This is the Ottauquechee bridge, just down the road a few miles from us.


Sunday 9:33pm
Still have power.
Rain seems to have stopped but the wind has picked up.
I hear peepers outside and it is oddly comforting.
Looking at photos from The Bennington Benner and elsewhere and feeling just sick about all the destruction.


Monday, 6:50am
No Internet this morning but we still have power.
We've been watching for cars to go by in order to see if it's possible to get out.
We haven't seen if more of the road is washed out heading toward Woodstock, but we both think it may make more sense to go the long way.

Monday, 7:10am
Peter tried but is back now. The road heading toward Hartland is completely washed out and impassable. He's going to try to get by the other way, where we know part of the road is washed out, but maybe not completely.
I'm sitting here working on first pass pages for See You At Harry's while my son plays a game.
The neighbors from the local farm zip back and forth on their ATVs.
I'm so glad we have power, but I always feel oddly cut off when we lose Internet access.
I'm listening to VPR and hearing about all the damage to Vermont's historic bridges.
We got 4-7 inches of rain here. Wow.

Monday 7:21am
Peter just returned. Can't get out that way, either.
An ATV rider suggested he try Crystal Path, a private road just above us that cuts over to another back road and eventually to Woodstock.
Peter tried to call work to let everyone know he's struggling to get there, but the phones aren't working. We just get a message saying "all circuits are busy now."
He just drove off again to try to get out one more time.
Without a phone, I'm feeling even more isolated.
I'm so glad my son is here safe and sound.

Monday 7:32am
Annnnd he's back. Road is too washed out there as well. I guess we are well and truly trapped.

Monday 9:26am
Still no Internet and limited phone.
Every so often we see neighbors walk by, but it's very quiet.
The water level has gone way down on the pond.
Just took a walk around the house and in the woods and there's very little damage, save for a sunflower.


But the biggest one is still standing.


Pretty shocking, really.
I expected so much worse.
But now it is a beautiful, sunny day.
Still, it feels ominous.

Monday 10:3am
Internet is back!
Still having phone troubles, but oh, what a relief to have outside contact.
Roads still impassable.
While we wait for road crews to show up, we keep counting our blessings, amazed that we got through this so well.
Our thoughts are with all the people still without power.
People frantically bailing water from basements.
Trying to salvage water-drenched belongings.
I hear about friends without power, and friends stuck at shelters.
I say, "We should call them and tell them to come here!"
And then my husband reminds me that no one can get here.
We're cut off.
It's a strange, strange feeling.
But we'll be fine.
I hope the same for everyone else.

Monday 6:38pm
I'm adding to this journal because more has happened.
We went out for a walk to check out the damage on the road.
Lots of neighbors out doing the same.
We stopped at the road where we took video of the damage.
Others gathered.
We all shared stories about power losses and house damage.
"This is nothing compared to farther down," they said.
"And Happy Valley Road is basically gone."
That is the road we take to get to work and school every day.
A beautiful, narrow dirt road lined with Maples.
It's the road that reminds me how good it is to live in this place.
I have no idea when I'll be able to travel it again.
We kept walking, and when we got to the piece of road our neighbors described, we were stunned.
We live on a hill, so there are streams running along and under the road.
There are steep declines running along the side of the road.
Often when we have heavy rains, there's a little erosion.
But nothing prepared us for what we saw.
Just over the Hartland/Woodstock border, the road disappears.
Now, there is a huge ravine.
The road is just... gone.
You can stand on the edge and look down nearly 15 feet or so.
And across, it's just as far.
Below, water gushes by.
How they will ever fill in this space is a wonder to me.
My camera's batteries died so I couldn't take pictures.
I'll try tomorrow.
Coming back home, another neighbor came out and told us she lost power.
So we knew we had, too.
But other neighbors stopped to say road crews had fixed the other end of the road and we could get out.
We packed up the car and drove to my in-laws to recharge our laptops, do laundry, and shower.
Miraculously, when we got back home, we had power again.
This has all been so surreal.
School is canceled again tomorrow.
So many roads are still closed.
Some reports say roads are closed indefinitely.
Our neighbors are dairy farmers and were desperately trying to fix the long driveway leading up to the farm so the dairy trucks could come to collect milk.
But still, routes are different and longer now.
And no one knows when or if things will go back to normal.
But the one thing all of our neighbors agreed on was how lucky we all are to be fine.
And we are.
Just fine.

Tuesday 12:12pm
My son and I just took a run and decided to go down to what's now the end of the road again. I brought my camera.

Hartland Hill Road, heading toward Woodstock. To the right of the guardrail, a steep drop-off where the stream continues down the hill.


The water pushed through under the road.


Farther along. You can see the bent rail now dangling over air.


Peaking through the guardrail and down (didn't dare to get too close to the edge).


And turning around, the view facing the back home.

When does it start to feel real?

When I'm working on early drafts, my project feels like my own little secret.

The story is like the kind of dream you have that is so private and personal you don't want to share it with anyone for fear that as soon as you talk about it, the magic of it will disappear. And besides, your dreams rarely make sense to anyone but you.

But as I get close to finishing a draft, I start to form the words that will define what the heart is. And I can say to a few close friends something vague, but true. "It's about family."

That's about as far as I can go, because it all still feels like a dream I'm still clinging to. Trying to make sense of.

Finally, I finish a draft and get the nerve to share the story with my trusted critique partners. And they help me to find the actual bones of the story. And now I can feel the dream becoming less translucent and wispy, and a little more clear. A little more solid. A little more real.

It seems like another whole year (or two) goes by and I keep rewriting the dream, over and over. I know it's not a dream anymore, not really. But it still feels like one. Like something I could still lose. I share it with my agent. Go back to the beginning. Share it with my editor. Go back to the beginning. I ask my wise and wonderful friend Jennifer Richard Jacobson's question over and over: "Is it true yet? Is it true yet?"

At some point in all this, my editor finally says, "I'm sending the manuscript to copy editing."

And suddenly, it dawns on me that this story I've only dared to share with a small handful of people I love and trust is going to be read by strangers.

That's when it starts to feel real.

But while I wait, I wonder. I doubt. Because that's what I do.

At last, the copy edits arrive. Inside, I find a note tucked in from the copy manager. It is private, and personal, and it makes me cry. Especially when I get to the end:

I'm left ruminating on the power of that truth telling, knowing it will mean so much to your readers, in so many ways. Somehow that telling--the telling of it just so--offers solace. So thank you for the book, and I look forward to seeing it take shape.

It's this letter that gives me the courage to go back in again. This time, reading the words as if they are finally, in her words, a book taking shape. Then I let them go again.

Yesterday, they came back to me. My words have been type-set in a new font. They don't look like mine any more. But they are. And now, seeing them as they'll look inside an actual book, they feel as real as they ever will.

Wordless Wednesday—First day of middle school, there he goes

I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Yesterday I listened to a sermon about Phil Ochs. Have you ever heard of him? He was a protest singer and songwriter who wanted to change the world. He wanted his words to have the same deep and lasting impact that Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger's did. I think, for a long time, he believed they would. But then he began to loose faith. Eventually, mental illness and alcoholism led to the sad and tragic end of his life.

Our minister said, "I don't know of any artist who both more inspires me and more haunts me in my soul." As we listened to several of Phil Ochs's songs yesterday, I understood why.

But the last one is the one that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. It's called "When I'm Gone." Our minister said this song is the reason he went to divinity school. Reading the words more closely today, I get that. And I'm impressed.

Today, I'm thinking about all the maybe somedays. I'm thinking about what I should do while I'm here, and what I need to do while I'm here. What I have to do.

To me, these things feel very private and obvious at the same time. They feel heady. They feel possible, and impossible. But asking the question forces me to remember what matters. It forces me to accept that there are ways I can have a positive impact. Same as you. It feels both inspirational, and, I hate to admit it, but burdensome. But mainly, it feels like my responsibilities and all the possibilities in front of me, have been made more clear.

I think Phil Ochs's songs are having a deep and lasting impact. Slowly and maybe too quietly. But surely.

And I think he could still change the world.

So could you.

"When I'm Gone" By Phil Ochs

There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone
And I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone
And you won't find me singin' on this song when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't feel the flowing of the time when I'm gone
All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I'm gone
My pen won't pour out a lyric line when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't breathe the bracing air when I'm gone
And I can't even worry 'bout my cares when I'm gone
Won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't be running from the rain when I'm gone
And I can't even suffer from the pain when I'm gone
Can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone
And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone
Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

All my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone
And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone
Can't add my name into the fight while I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone
And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone
Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

Here is Ani DiFranco's version of the song. You'll have to ignore the video, which is from a movie about Abby Hoffman. But I hope you'll listen, if you have the time.



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Monday Morning Warm-Up:

What do you have to do while you're here?

Friday 5 Questions at IRA!

Today I am very excited to be the guest at the International Reading Association's "Engage/Teacher to Teacher blog! We talk about reality TV, "Dark" YA, and a bunch of other stuff.

Here are the questions:

1. Your third YA novel, PEARL, came out last month. Tell us a little bit about the book. What was your inspiration?

2. JUMPING OFF SWINGS—your follow up to the critically acclaimed LESSONS FROM A DEAD GIRL—was recently named to IRA's 2011 Young Adult Choices list (one in a long line of honors the book has received). Considering the book's subject matter—accidental pregnancy—we have to ask: what do you make of pop culture's current treatment of so-called "teen moms"?

3. All three of your novels deal with serious issues that leave characters with no easy solutions. Why do you think it is important for young adults to be exposed to the reality of these situations, whether they have experienced them or not?

4. You've talked about writing the first drafts your novels in the "wrong" tense, scrapping them entirely, and starting from scratch. What have you learned from this?

5. In the not-so-distant past, you taught writing. Can you share a great ice breaker activity our teachers can use in the coming school year?

For the answers, you can go HERE

You have to log in as a new member if you aren't already one.

Thanks for reading! :-)

Have a great weekend!

Family+Squam Lake+Puppy=Happiness

Yesterday, my son and I drove to NH to visit my family and to meet my parents' new PUPPY. After a fun day at the beach we met up with my parents for an early evening boat ride on Squam Lake. I got to hold the PUPPY. Her name is Molly. :)


Like the ocean, this lake is a healing place.


We rode to Rattlesnake cove and let the puppy play in the water for her first swim.


Then, we had dinner and watched the sun set.


On the way home, Molly curled up next to my mom and went to sleep.


And the rest of us enjoyed the beauty...


Remembered why this lake is so meaningful to us...


And said good-night.


While the memories always have the edge of sadness, this place reminds me of the love and joy we had, and still have. And it's a comfort.