Audrey Vernick's Blog, page 6

Grand History: Cynthia Levinson Interview

It would be hard to ignore the timing on this one.

As we wake on the other side of  the national holiday that honors Martin Luther King Jr., I could not be more pleased to welcome Cynthia Levinson and her gorgeous book, WE'VE GOT A JOB: THE 1963 BIRMINGHAM CHILDREN'S MARCH, to the blog.

This is my kind of book. And even though you might think I don't know you that well, it's your kind of book, too. I have been aching to get my hands on this one since I first learned of its existence three years ago.

I want every teacher and librarian and school media specialist to read this. I want my daughter and son and husband to read it. My sisters and my dad. My friends, too. And then I want to have a fun party where we talk about it all night. Who's in?

In case you're not a star-watcher, to date WE HAVE A JOB has received three starred reviews (Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, Booklist). I predict more.

Without further ado (because that was plenty of ado), my interview with the woman of the hour, Cynthia Levinson.

Did any part of your body explode when you read your reviews or saw the stars? For example, I'd have spontaneously lost a limb upon reading this from a School Library Journal blog: "This title…may be the most important historical account of the Civil Rights movement." What has this experience, this wave of raves, been like for you?

That's a very funny question, Audrey! My body parts are intact. But I've been grinning so much and so hard that I think I could pick up a trombone and play about as well as Quincy Jones, right off the bat. (Sorry, I had to get baseball bats in this interview somewhere.)

At the same time, though (there had to be a 'but,' right?), I feel like the photo of my three-year-old niece sitting in her sandbox, surrounded by toys, and pouting. Or, maybe I'm like Godzilla. Stars are so much fun, I'll take them wherever I can get them. I bonked my head on the overhead rack on a plane recently and thought, "Oh, goodie. More stars."

Really, though, it's gratifying to have my work, the extraordinary efforts of my editor, Kathy Landwehr, and the contributions of the four main narrators of the book recognized. As Kathy said, she knew it was a marvelous book, and it's nice that other people are validating that.

Can you share with us the process by which the Birmingham Children's March transformed from something you knew about to something you needed to write about?

That process took roughly a nanosecond. It's true that I knew about the Birmingham Children's March, although it wasn't called that in 1963. It was called, according to newspaper headlines at the time, "mass demonstrations" and "rioting Negroes." What I missed for the following 44 years was the "children" part of it. Even though I taught American History in middle school and high school, somehow I failed to notice that the bodies that were assaulted by vicious police dogs and firemen's hoses were short. The moment that I made that belated discovery, while researching an article on music in the civil rights era for Cobblestone magazine, I knew the story had to be shared.

I know your research for this book was especially vigorous. Did you have any especially gratifying or exciting discoveries along the way?

Audrey in fifth grade

The four people I interviewed most extensively—Audrey, Wash, Arnetta, and James—continually shared gratifying (and sometimes heartbreaking) stories with me. Audrey, who was nine when she was arrested and spent a week in jail, talked about the board game she carried with her. Visualizing Audrey clutching her protest sign in one hand and her board game in the other as she climbed into a paddy wagon was such a sweet yet jarring image.

Wash told me about his conversion from rock-throwing truant (he was definitely a "rioting Negro") to peaceful protester. When he heard a girl sing "The Lord's Prayer" in jail, he knelt and bowed his head. Arnetta described how she and her younger sister bawled when their father tried to sit in the front of the bus to protest segregation; they were panicked that he'd be arrested, and they'd never see him again. James carried the casket of one of the four girls murdered in the church bombing four months after the marches.

The connections between these individuals, these normal yet singular teenagers, and the grand history of the movement that we read about in textbooks were immensely gratifying.

Thank you so much, Cynthia!

WE'VE GOT A JOB's official on-sale date is February 1, but it's never too early to pre-order or check with your local library to make sure it's on their radar.

You can learn more about Cynthia and her book by visiting her website. Be sure to drop by the EMU's Debuts blog the week of the book's release, too.

Every Step of the Way

Yesterday's mail brought me three bound copies of BROTHERS AT BAT: THE TRUE STORY OF AN AMAZING ALL-BROTHER TEAM.

Working on a picture book is so incremental and I love every step of the process, from my own first draft, revisions, more revisions, the decision about an illustrator, seeing early sketches, later sketches, color illustrations, first pass, unbound copies, all the way to real bound books. Every step, especially the ones that don't involve any work on my part, is a real joy.

I'm only supposed to receive one bound copy at this stage of the game, but my editor had the grace and foresight to think of the brothers themselves–three of the twelve are alive–and to know that I'd want to be able to give them actual books instead of the (unbound) F&Gs I had planned to give them.

We have a date planned for the big book-giving–the Sunday after the Superbowl.

BROTHERS AT BAT is my third nonfiction picture book. There was also a fourth manuscript that never found a publishing home.

The first book, BARK & TIM: A TRUE STORY OF FRIENDSHIP, co-written with my sister Ellen Glassman Gidaro, is based on the autobiographical paintings of outsider artist Tim Brown.

Ellen and I never met Tim, though we wanted to. Our interviews were all handled with Tim's manager as a go-between. We'd send off questions via email and a month or more later, we'd receive Tim's handwritten responses.

We never heard from Tim about the book once it was out, so I wrote to his manager to ask what Tim had thought. His response was something along the lines of, "He liked it," or "He thought it was good."

My second nonfiction picture book manuscript, A MILLION FLOWERS, was one very close to my heart. It was told from the perspective of a child, a real child (now a real teenager) who participated in a gorgeous ceremony in Seattle in the wake of 9/11. Members of the community brought flowers to a park for a vigil. Then (this being Seattle) the gardeners stepped in–taking those flowers and turning them into compost. The gardeners, the father and his son, and a team of politicians then transported some of that compost to a garden that had stood in the shadows of the twin towers in NYC.

I so looked forward to the day I would put a bound book in that child's hands, but that day never came. I am still in occasional touch with his father, a Seattle Mariners fan.

Third nonfiction book: SHE LOVED BASEBALL: THE EFFA MANLEY STORY. I think I must have researched that story just before the Hall of Fame made such research really easy. More likely, I didn't realize how easy the Hall of Fame made things for researchers so I trekked to Cooperstown to spend a day in their library. (For a small fee, the research library can send copies of DVDs, CDs, etc. right to your very own mailbox.) It is worth noting that no baseball fan would complain about the opportunity to trek to Cooperstown, New York, to spend a day in the Hall's awesome research library.

Effa Manley died many years before I wrote this book. She was not a woman who shied away from the spotlight, so I like to think she'd have been pleased, but of course, I'll never know.

And now I'm on the eve (or the eve of the eve, maybe) of the April release of BROTHERS AT BAT. For those missing my point, this will be the first time I've ever been able to hand my book to its subjects.

I wish all of them were here–I'd round up twelve books and another four for their sisters.

one of my favorites

But I hope that this book finds its way into the hands of the descendants of the Acerra brothers and sisters no longer with us. Steven Salerno, the illustrator, did an outstanding job; it's a truly beautiful book. (For an inside look at his work on BROTHERS AT BAT, visit his blog.)

Part of the joy of writing this book has been the time I spent with the two brothers I interviewed most frequently. As any writer knows, it doesn't always work out. I still feel a great deal of regret that I didn't get to present a beautifully illustrated bound copy of A MILLION FLOWERS to the father and son in Seattle. There's a kind of responsibility a writer feels for her subjects, a need to do right by them, that lasts well beyond the interviews and research.

So I'm going to enjoy the moment as I hand off the three books to the three brothers. I'll take pictures. And video. And I'll let you know how it goes.

Highly Credible: Kami Kinard Interview

New year, new books. Happy, happy.

I'm so happy, happy to be starting 2012 by welcoming Kami Kinard to the blog.

Kami's first novel, THE BOY PROJECT, is a new year's baby, released 1/1/2012. It's getting great reviews. According Kirkus, the book "lends refreshing perspective on teen relationships, and the results point to self-enlightenment."

Publishers Weekly said, "Kinard creates a highly credible middle-school universe of popular girls, dorky boys, unpredictable teachers, and volatile loyalties; she hits all the right notes as Kara learns that first opinions are rarely accurate and that the scientific method does not always apply to human beings."

First of all: YAY! Second, how did you go about creating that credible middle-school universe?

I think two things really helped me with this:

One: I was the parent of a middle-schooler when I wrote the book. (And I have another child in middle school now.)  So I gleaned a lot of information from the interactions of my son and his friends.

Two: I went back and read all of my old diaries. These helped me remember what it felt like to be in middle school. Middle school is kind of a hard time.  Friendships fluctuate, girls are often hard on each other, and no one really knows what they are doing when it comes to relationships. Reading the diaries gave me a glimpse into my old tween self – the one who was insecure about things (like having a boyfriend) that seem so unimportant now.

Where did your main character, Kara, come from?

Kara is probably the person I wish I had been in middle school. I was far more shy than she is, for one thing, and far less likely to act on any of my good ideas if they involved the possibility of humiliation!

What were your favorite books when you were a young reader?

Hmmm. I had a lot of favorites, but I'm trying to remember what I liked best when I was Kara's age.  I think THE BLACK CAULDRON by Lloyd Alexander and THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE by C.S. Lewis were probably my favorite books at that point.

What fictional character would you have liked to move next door to younger-you?

Nancy Drew. I had burned through the Nancy Drew books earlier, but I always admired how smart she was.  She had a great group of friends who supported her interest in sleuthing.  She seemed like an interesting and fun person to hang out with!

What are you working on now?

I am working on a literary fantasy. (Influenced by Alexander and Lewis, maybe?) It's very different from THE BOY PROJECT, but I actually started writing it earlier. For me, literary fantasy is harder to write than contemporary because you have to build a world. It takes a lot more time, but I love doing it.  I've almost completed this manuscript now and I'm really excited about it.

I am also working on another humorous contemporary book with a middle school protagonist, but I'm only a few chapters in. I like the way it's going, though!

To learn more about Kami, visit her website, where you can see pictures of her as a child,  her beautiful children, and a hilarious one of her dog.

Noteworthy?

I thoroughly enjoyed my interview with NEW YORK TEACHER's Ellie Spielberg. And I'm honored to be included as a NOTEWORTHY GRADUATE of New York City's public schools in this profile.

It has made me wonder whether report cards/permanent records were consulted. Back then we received Excellent, Very Good, Fair, something else (Needs Improvement?) and Unsatisfactory.

While I believe I normally scored mostly Excellents, I seem to recall that one year I received a U for "self-control," about which I still feel an odd mix of shame and pride.

Lesson learned: you can outrun your permanent record card.

Circling Back

I don't want to scoop myself, as I've already written up my impressions of my visit back to the elementary school I attended, which HarperCollins will be posting on its pageturn blog. So I'll share some of the things I did not include in that post, such as the adorable fact that the hallway leading down to the library was temporarily renamed in my honor and lined with copies of my book covers.

In the library, another welcoming display. The librarian found my sixth-grade picture in an archive (prompting nights of wonder–what else is in that archive?) and created a poster that incorporated some thankfully unscathing kid-reviews of TEACH YOUR BUFFALO TO PLAY DRUMS.

And the piece de resistance, the buffalo and his yellow pigtailed cohort, kid-painted, with the warmest welcome of all.

It's possible my memory fails me, but when I attended P.S. 184Q, I don't remember muffins and cookies and cold and hot beverages awaiting me, as they were when I visited this month. That was sweet.

The whole day was sweet.

It was familiar and lovely and sweet. The hallways, the auditorium, the cafeteria, the gymnasium. Our dentist's office across the street.

Everyone warned that the school would seem tiny when I returned but given that I'm about the same height as I was in fourth grade, that wasn't my experience. It was the things outside the school that seem to have gotten smaller–the neighborhood itself, my house, the length of the walk from home to school.

These are the children who provided photo clearances so those of you who are gasping at seeing actual faces can stop.

The teachers are all new. And lovely and welcoming and sweet. Some of them knew my kindergarten teacher, who was brand spanking new when I attended kindergarten. Ours was her first class.  I hope regards are being sent, as I remember her so clearly and so fondly. In fact, I believe this picture was taken in our classroom. (Kindergarten is the only classroom about which I'm uncertain. I visited most of the others.)

The kids, too, are new.

But there's something universal–familiar, lovely and sweet–about a classroom full of kindergarten students. I'm so glad HarperCollins helped me adopt my old school. Visiting and remembering: the perfect way to end a year.

I'll be back to post links to an article in NEW YORK TEACHER and on the pageturn blog, but will be taking a holiday break from new posts until the new year.

See you then.

Home for the Holidays, Even Though I Don't Live There Anymore

I was interviewed recently for New York Teacher, the newspaper of the United Federation of Teachers. At the outset, I warned the reporter that I had a kind of freakish memory for my elementary school years at P.S. 184 in Queens.

She found it interesting that I write for readers who are the ages I remember best. I found it interesting that I never before made that connection.

D'oh!

Tomorrow I'm heading home. I'll be meeting with kids in kindergarten, first and second grade at my old school as part of the Association of American Publishers' (AAP) Adopt-a-School Initiative to encourage literacy.

I want to peek in the cafeteria, where I never ate lunch but where my Brownies troop met after school. (I walked home for lunch every day–I know! And kids who brought lunch from home ate in the auditorium and had to be silent the whole time. During LUNCH. I know!)

I will have to stop into the library, which was always filled with Mrs. Fallon's tea-rose scent. And the gym, home of a most unexpected and triumphant punchball home run that made me a much earlier pick–one of the first girls!– from then on when choosing teams.

I want to see if the schoolyard is still a huge mass of asphalt contained by chain-link fence and if the auditorium seats' armrests have some weird kind of magnet in them that forces kids to wrestle for armrest control, because that's how I remember it. It's a tradition I have passed along to my children–with apologies to all who sit near us in theaters.

with my sisters, circa 1967

When I'm done at the school, I'll drive by my house, the houses of old friends, too. Maybe I'll take some pictures for my sisters. There's sadness in this trip. Our mother died in this neighborhood. It's probably why we don't go back.

But our mother was a teacher. She was president of this school's PTA. And a writer. She would love this. This chance to go back, to see it all again, and remember in that deeper way you do when you're walking those same hallways, recalling your determination to never step on a crack–not only the ones that separated tiles, but the ones contained within each tile, too.

Facebook has reconnected me with many of my childhood friends. I feel an odd, fierce loyalty to these people–have always felt a strange, protective love and nostalgia for them and for that time, for all those times.

Tomorrow I'll share my elementary school memories, introduce my new Queens friends to a buffalo, and find out what it's like to go to P.S. 184Q in this millennium.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Brothers at Bat: Behind the Scenes

Don't waste another minute here. Head over to Steven Salerno's blog this instant for an amazingly informative post about his artistic process and a chance to see some not-used covers for our forthcoming picture book, BROTHERS AT BAT: THE TRUE STORY OF AN AMAZING ALL-BROTHER TEAM.

The book, due out on April 3, 2012, is a Junior Library Guild selection and will be showing up at Scholastic Book Fairs beginning early next year.

See if you can find the cover on which I have a new last name!

Mmmmmm. Picture Books.

It's been a month for celebrating the picture book, with brilliant posts and essays cropping up all over the place. This one, by my agent, Erin Murphy, really got me thinking. Check it out.

And if you haven't been keeping up wtih Tara Lazar's PiBoIdMo (Picture Book Idea Month) blog, get thee a very large and appealing beverage and settle down for a long, informative, inspiring read.

Today's entry is a public conversation between my beloved and wise friend Olugbemisola Amusashonubi-Perkovich and me about writing fears and getting over them. Or not.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Eat well and love each other.

Pure Imagination and Possibility: Interview with Ruth Barshaw

I don't think it's possible to describe Ruth Barshaw. Anyone?

It would require a whole lot of adjectives, and I suspect some of them would appear to be opposites. She's tremendously loyal and supportive and hilarious and crazy, in really good ways. Absurdly talented in ways that sometimes make other people (my hand's raised) writhe with jealousy. I don't think I have ever seen her without sketchbook in hand. How cool is that?

That picture of me all the way to the right and up a bit—that's a Ruth Barshaw sketch that she graciously allowed me to use in place of a photo on my website.

You may be familiar with her books and if you're not, fix that. The Ellie McDoodle books are awesome and rich and fun and funny and maybe provide a tiny window into the author's psyche.

Ruth Barshaw is someone you could spend a long time getting to know—and you'd enjoy every minute. A good place to start is her website, where you'd find this quote, among others: "Sometimes this job is solitary and the only friend I have is the character in my head whose adventures are directing my imagination. Other times this job brings me close to lots of great people who remind me of all that is good in the world."

Can you talk about that dichotomy? Do you miss your regular, daily life when your only friend is that character in your head?

No — I don't miss anything from the real world, because the imaginary world feels so real. I recognize that there are other things going on back in the real, real world, and I sometimes get forcibly pulled there (like if there's bad news or a scheduled obligation) but mostly I just stay in the gauzy, fake-real world of my characters and am happy there while I'm there, because it's creation time. It's pure imagination and possibility.

Do your family and real-world friends recognize and/or accept this "only friend" aspect of the writing process?

I don't think most of them know it exists, until they try to converse with me and I actually say to them, "I can't find words right now. I don't have my words." That's such an odd part of the process: I get to where I can't use words. Everything becomes imagery, and so I can sometimes even see the words I am thinking, on an imaginary page in front of me, but I can't access the words in my head. I can write them but can't articulate them, except with real effort.

The toughest time for this is when I'm doing school visits. I'll stand on stage and draw, putting together a story out of elements the kids just brainstormed. I'm always racing against the clock. I'll get engrossed in the story, the art, the goal and the deadline, and invariably a kid asks a question that requires other-brain thinking. I come up with an answer in my head, but then the words disappear and I'm stuck with just images. I can shake back into reality and find the words, but I have to work consciously to do it. Otherwise I'd be in that weird Wonderland-like place, where reality is twisted.

This no-words place only happens at a certain time in the story-writing/illustrating process. Thank goodness, it's not continual. At first it scared me. Now I think it's kind of neat. (And btw I rarely drink and I don't do substances. It's just my weird brain.) I've talked about it with my husband and kids, so they recognize it and don't think I've gone off the deep end. I'm quite sure they think it's odd. Teachers and librarians seem to find it amusing.

Do you have difficulty making the transition back to citizen-of-the-world when the solitary part is over?

Not at all. The only part I have trouble with is realizing time has passed, emails have gone unanswered, and busy schedules are coming; life is going to speed up, and I have just a little time to get the most important things done before the whirlwind. I go from dreamy creation state to batten-down-the-hatches;-storm's-coming! in a matter of minutes. I don't love the whirlwind of deadlines, author-visit schedules and my busy family life, but it all has value.

With four books written, I'm guessing you know Ellie very well. What are some of your favorite things about her? Brag like a proud mama who has never heard of modesty.

I like that she's courageous and strong–two things I felt I wasn't, as a kid. She isn't afraid to share her art (I usually hid mine). She's willing to give almost anything a try. I became somewhat territorial, growing up — especially as an older teen. I wanted to make my own path through life. I didn't want anything handed to me and especially didn't want to be directed. Ellie stands up for herself. She takes her own path but isn't afraid to share it with others. She doesn't label herself. She confronts the demons of creative life. She is adventurous. She is curious. And she has a loving and supportive family who will let her fail, but they won't let her stay down, and they definitely won't kick her when she's down. I love that she's big on nature. And I love that she inspires kids to journal – I get letters about that all the time. If that's the legacy Ellie McDoodle leaves, I'll be very pleased. Because journaling is extremely valuable, for anyone.

I practically died of envy of the great friendships in the books I read as a kid. Were there any friendships you especially envied or admired or appreciated?

I liked how, in THE HAPPY HOLLISTERS, the kids always got along well and they had each others' backs. Same with in Peggy Parrish's THE KEY TO THE TREAURE: The siblings were best friends. What a fantasy!

I loved The Little Colonel series, where Lloyd invited friends for a house party and they became "chums," close friends for years. I wanted to transport back in time 75 years and host a house party. I liked that, in LITTLE WOMEN, best friend Laurie ended up marrying a sister (but was disappointed it wasn't Jo). I liked that Pippi Longstocking could always pick up her friendship where it had left off. And I loved all the characters of Beverly Cleary, especially the friendship in Ellen Tebbits. I longed for a friendship like she had: Two girls who remained friends even after a big fight. I actually had a great friendship, a girl who lived down the street, Janet Oswald. I loved her dearly. Tried to do everything together. She was one year older than me. There was another girl my age who I didn't get along with so well, who lived halfway to Janet's house. We were a triangle and I had to share Janet. We moved when I was 8. I never saw Janet again. She sent a card when my dad died, when I was 12. She died young, I think at 19, after some tumultuous teen years, and I didn't hear about that until long after. I've tried to find her family. Fail. For a while I was convinced that if I became close to someone, they'd die. I've lost a *lot* of best friends over the years. A lot of people died too young. And a few beloved people have stayed with me for decades. In the balance, I'm lucky.

What fictional character would young-you have liked to be friends with?

Young me would have loved Buffalo. He's strong–I'd have felt safe (I often did not feel safe as a kid). I'd have felt protected. He's an advocate for the arts; we'd paint together, or he'd play drums while I played clarinet. He'd have been a lovely addition to our school band or the Codd Cousins band, my cousins, siblings, and young aunts and uncles, who played music together at our family parties. Bonus, he's a big pillow.

That picture! In case you weren't sure, that's the buffalo on the left, with young Ruth, Ellie, older Ruth, and Ben-Ben. I heart that picture with all my heart. I bet Daniel Jennewein does, too.

You can get a nice, big dose of Ruth by visiting her website.

Confidence, Fairy Tales and Ramona: Anna Staniszewski Interview

I met Anna Staniszewski at a retreat for clients of the Erin Murphy Literary Agency—we sat next to each other en route to dinner one night. When we chatted, our debut novels felt so, so far in the future. And now they're both out in the world, on shelves, and — unbelievably — in the hands of readers.

You'll want to get your hands on MY VERY UNFAIRY TALE LIFE.

But first, read this.

Publishers Weekly says of your debut, MY VERY UNFAIRY TALE LIFE, "Staniszewski's debut is a speedy and amusing ride that displays a confident, on-the-mark brand of humor." First of all: YAY! Second, how about that word, confident, to describe a debut novelist?! Did you feel confident as you wrote this book? What has this first-novel experience been like for you?

That's an excellent question. I'm not a terribly confident person in general, but I actually did feel relatively confident as I was writing the book since I was primarily writing it for myself. This was the project I would come back to when I was stuck on other things and needed a good laugh. Once other people started to read the book, I got a little less confident. My agent helped me to really tighten and focus the story, which meant cutting out two major characters and drastically simplifying the plot. That process shook my confidence a little bit, but once it was over and I had a shiny new version that was ready for editors to see, my confidence came back. I was very lucky that the folks at Sourcebooks understood my wacky sense of humor and had confidence in my story.

Outside of my picture books, I'm a pretty realistic fiction writer, so I have to ask: at what point did you think, I know! Bloodthirsty unicorns! How do you meld the magic into your also real-seeming world?

Doesn't every little girl dream of writing about bloodthirsty unicorns one day? No? Oh… As I said above, this was the book that I wrote for my own amusement, so I put pretty much anything in it that would made me laugh. But ultimately, I wanted the story to be a twist on the traditional quest fantasy. Instead of having a hero that's pulled from the regular world and thrown into a magical adventure, I wanted to write about a girl who's been playing the hero for years and she's sick and tired of it. It was fun to throw well-known fairy tale and fantasy elements at Jenny to see how she would react. I'm afraid I was a tiny bit cruel to her; hopefully she'll forgive me one day.

What were some of your favorite books as a child-reader?

I adored books that transported me to other worlds, real or imagined. Some of my favorites were ANNE OF GREEN GABLES,  A LITTLE PRINCESS, and MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH. I also loved books set in space or in the distant future–I have a feeling that had something to do with my childhood obsession with "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

What children's book character do you wish could have moved next door to younger-you? Why?

I would have loved to have Ramona Quimby as a neighbor! I was very shy and quiet as a kid, so it would have been great to have a fun, spunky girl to play with. I'm sure we would have gotten into some scrapes together, but I imagine Ramona would have helped to bring me out of my shell.

What are you working on now?

I like to have a few projects going at a time. Right now I'm polishing a funny tween novel, reworking a light fantasy, and brainstorming a wacky picture book.

Many thanks to Anna for stopping by. You can learn more about Anna by visiting her website. Be sure to check out her book trailer, too.