Gae Polisner's Blog, page 13

For my father and all who have served on Veterans Day. . .

I am not a religious person, but a spiritual one. . . and yet, I pray. . .
I pray to the human spirit that one day, in the not too distant future,
compassion will always win out over fists, bombs and guns.
This is my father. . .

returning home from service in a MASH unit
Vietnam, Chu Lai, 1966 - 967. . .
how lucky we are that he came home.
This is the note that I wrote to him today, and the plaque for his bronze star that hangs on my son's wall here at my house:



This is an incredibly moving piece written by Laurie Halse Anderson today in the Huffington Post:

VETERANS NEED YOUR HELP. 
Read it and share it, then do more. Click on the links. Share the information. And donate, even $5 or $10 -- heck, even $1 -- to help a veteran who has done so very much for you.

With deepest gratitude to all who have served and continue to serve.

- gae

Halloween Riff, Redux.

Still love this one... resharing. Hey, I wrote it. ;)
Halloween Riff (Sugar Rush) Me, last night, with the treat my sweet hubby deliveredReeling from a sugar high (after weeks of not eating any) and inspired by a copy of Edgar Allen Poe's  The Raven  (reprinted way below) that serendipitously arrived in my email box this morning, I penned my own version of some early Halloween terror.

I invite you to join me in the comments and create a little Halloween homage of your own.

Definitely treat over trick.

- gae


Deprav'in Once upon a Tuesday, teeming, with the thought that I was dreaming,when consuming pounds of creamy, malted chocolate balls galore,should my sugar-coated teeth, my growing thighs felt underneath,this memory, now, so vague and brief, it barely lingers at my core. . .“Tis only fair, you see,” I muttered, “to mix some sweet amidst the bore,”only this: a sugar fix, and nothing more.Ah, distinctly (I was sober), it was in the bleak October,sent my husband like a gopher, to the aisle in the store. . .
Eagerly, no, not a Spartan, sent him for the whole damned cartonTried to cease, but played my part on, part on asking, yes, for more --Now, the fear of scale uncertain, holes in teeth will soon be hurtin’,Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating, of my heart, I stand repeating,"'Tis some minor weakness leaving, exiting through every pore,Calories to soon be leaving, through my every pore.Twas only candy, nothing more.”

The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!-Edgar Allen Poe

How to Support Reading, Get a Signed Book or a Free Skype Visit, and Other Reading Gems

Me, with the inimitable Paul Hankins
and Sarah Darer Littman

Paul W. Hankins is a wonderful teacher (or as he often refers to it, "lead learner"),

a friend,

and a Book & Reading Champion Extraordinaire.

This morning, on facebook, he posted this fabulous little video BOOK PEOPLE UNITE from RIF, and got me thinking...


For those of us who know RIF, and remember it fondly, we may remember it like this:



It was such a simple yet startling truth for 9-year-old me at the time: some kids actually don't have books. And we could get some to them, and change the world.

Or, as Mr. Hankins put so eloquently this morning on my facebook page, "the message is that one big difference we can make in the life of a child is to assure that they have access to books. This is important work. I will get behind it."

Me too, Mr. Hankins, me too.

And, with holiday time coming, what better way to place books in a child's hand by:

*  adding RIF to your holiday donation list (a mere $5 or $10 puts a book in a child's hand! It doesn't have to be more!);

*  sharing that new wonderful video up there on your social networking sites and in your classrooms; and, of course

*  buying a book for a child you know, or donating one to a charity, this holiday season. One way to do that is through Donors Choose, a website that helps teachers fund book projects in the classroom... Several wonderful teachers have put classroom sets of THE PULL OF GRAVITY in their classrooms using Donors Choose. And, yes, I ALWAYS donate a copy or copies when they do.

Okay, Gae, I get the whole classroom thing, but who wants a crappy old book for Christmas when there are Lego and video games under the tree?

I believe the answer is: more kids than you know.

At least WITH the Lego and  video games, especially when the book comes personalized (autographed, sometimes with what we MG & YA authors like to call SWAG).

And guess what? It's easier than you think to make this happen:

How to get signed copies

Most authors, unless they are JK Rowling or Stephanie Meyer (and maybe even them, who knows?) want to reach their kid, tween, and teen readers and connect with them. WE WANT TO.

We have facebook pages, twitter accounts, tumblr pages (even if we don't know how to use them) and more. We have websites that will lead you to our email addresses or other contact info. And, if you want a signed book, we will direct you on how.

Sometimes local indies keep a small amount of signed stock on hand. If they don't and you buy a copy and mail it to us with an SASE, we will sign it and send it back. If you can't afford that, and send us the name of the recipient and your address, we will mail out a signed bookplate.

Often there will be signed bookmarks, buttons and other book-related goodies tucked inside.

My swag bag from a school visit included bookmarks, buttons,
wax lips and mini troll dolls. Oh, but we had fun! 
Classroom or Book Club Skype Visits

And while we're at it, here's another thing to know: if you buy at least a few copies of our books for your book club selection or your classroom use, most of us will Skype with you for free. Some will Skype for 15 minutes, some of us will blabber on for hours. The only requirement we have is that you're helping to make this possible by supporting our books by buying a minimum number.

If you want to see a short list of authors who Skype for free, the awesome Kate Messner has put one together HERE.

So, how about that for a holiday package? Donate to RIF, share a favorite SIGNED book with a kid, tween or teen you love, and get a Skype visit for the book club or classroom they frequent for free!

Whatever you do, support reading. Put a book in the hands of a kid (or adult!) you love.

November's upon us. What are you waiting for?

xox gae

p.s. If you are an author who offers free Skype visits to book clubs, classrooms or libraries who use
your book and are not included in Kate's list, PLEASE feel free to provide your titles and contact information in the comments. 

In Which I Talk Like a Truckdriver (sort of ) about Added and Deleted Pools and Neglected Blog Posts

in my pool...
I refuse to look at the last time I blogged... it's not pretty.

I know I tossed a Friday Feedback about how to not write query letters up here completely pointlessly  not too long ago, but how did it get to be the end of October?

Forgive me. Life's been busy.

There's the boy we sent off to college.

this is me with said boy this weekend during Parents Weekend.And the furry, 8-week old child we got for our other boy to replace help mask the daily loss of his brother in our household.

this is him. He's 16 weeks now. His name is Charlie.
He's a fucktonne of work, but we like him.There's been the effort to soak in the last open water swims before the water freezes my metaphorical balls off turns way too cold...

Me last week, with my dear friend and "Polar Pod"
cohort, Annmarie.and the effort to find a new yoga/Pilates studio, even though I effing hate struggle through yoga these days, because I know, just know, it is good for me and I should.

There's, of course, still my part-time "lawyer" work, plus the constant effort to just freaking finish it would you?!?! write a "right" next book that my editor might fricking-for-the-love-of-God-please-just-take love, now that THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO is on the verge of release.

Purdy, right?
(In case you haven't seen it starting to pop up around the web, there it is... well, in the Advance Review softcover version... the actual March release will be in hardcover. Btw, it's getting some Holy-balls! Amazing awesome early reviews. If you want to check them out, you can find them HERE. Also, my uber wonderful new publisher, Algonquin Young Readers, is looking for blogger and reviewer readers to provide feedback on the four of five Spring 2014 AYR books that are now up on NetGalley.THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO is there by request.
Also, while you're here and in case you haven't, "like" the AYR facebook page and follow them on twitter!)
Anyway, that's some of what's going on... there's my other son's basketball and social life to work around, my husband's singing to listen to and support, and, and, and, and well, yeah, I'm just rattling off lame excuses.
Anyway, last night, after missing several days of open water swimming, I took my first plunge of the season back into the stupid effing  indoor pool. 


I was dreading it, but then ended up loving it. I'll grown bored with it soon enough, and pine for the open water (which I will still manage at least a few more ball-curdling swims in), but last night it was peaceful and soothing and, yet somehow, also invigorating.
As most of you know who follow me here, I do my best writing IN THE WATER. The trick being to remember what I wrote in my head while swimming, and make it translate as brilliantly when I ultimately make it back to dry land. Something that rarely happens.
Anyway, while I was swimming, I was thinking of all the story line fixes, character enhancements, and other writing keys that have come to me while swimming. The original germ of the idea for THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO came to me in the pool, and most my manuscripts have some element of story that revolves around the water.
Not a drop of water in THE PULL OF GRAVITY
but there almost was... ? BUT, THE PULL OF GRAVITY is different. It's my land book -- maybe partly because I wrote it back when I had just started to swim obsessively again. While swimming last night, I suddenly remembered that after the book sold, I decided to try to sneak a water scene in. Luckily, I thought better of it, and deleted it before I turned revisions in to my editor. But I decided to see if I could find it, dig it out and humiliate myself. So, here it is. This is in the hotel in Rochester after Jaycee has fallen deep into the fever. :) 
She falls back to sleep, and I pace the room, trying to come up with something useful, some sort of idea or plan. Then I think about what Jaycee said, about how useless plans usually are.  It makes me laugh to think of it.  I mean, look how right she was. I am pacing like this when Jaycee suddenly jumps up and starts to put on her shoes.“Hey, where you going?” I call. She looks past me, walks with ghost eyes in a hurry. I know the look. It’s the look that will lead you to a water tower. “I’m going to find him,” she says. “Before Scooter dies.” It kills me. It makes me want to cry.“It’s not time yet, Jaycee.” I put my hands on her shoulders and shake her a little. I can tell she’s cooled down some, that there’s been at least a little break in her fever. This alone sometimes sets off the hallucinations. I shake her some more, but she’s caught in the delirium of it, yanks away from me and pulls her Converse on, tripping and stuff, as she heads out the hotel room door.I race after her. At first I’m just worried, but then, honestly, I’m a little curious. Besides, I’m watching her, so I won’t let her get into too much trouble. She takes the stairwell, two at a time, toward the lobby, and heads out. She blows past the closed gift shop and concierge desk which is still empty at this early hour, then turns and heads back through the lobby toward the exercise room and the pool. She yanks the door to the pool open and walks in. I run after her.There’s a lifeguard behind a counter sorting and stacking a huge pile of white towels into a bin. He glances up and says, “Morning, early swim?” but you can tell he’s too tired and doesn’t really care.“Yeah,” I call, picking up my pace because I’m pretty sure she’s going to jump in.At the edge of the pool, she stops though, takes off her sneakers, and starts to wade down the steps of the shallow end. The water seeps up the bottom of her Marshall J. Freeman sweats, darkening the green to black as she makes her way down each step.“Jaycee!” I yell. Then louder, “Jaycee!” At the same time, the lifeguard dude sees and rushes over. “Hey, kid, you can’t go in there in your clothes!” Jaycee must hear the strange voice or something, stops and turns, looks at me, then him, then me again. And then it registers, I can see it, her eyes scanning, finally taking the reality in.
See? It once existed but never saw the light of day. I promise you, it's not in there. Smart move deleting, right? Now if only I'd deleted this post.
xoxo gae

Friday Feedback: KISS those Queries

What life? We got a fucking puppy. 
So, I intended to do a monthly Friday Feedback on the first Friday of each month because that would've been nice and alliterative, but then we got this puppy and then my whole life turned into one big NOTHING BUT PUPPY.

FYI, if you think this is a good thing, think again.

I'm not exactly a dog person, as you may have read HERE.

Alas, my younger son is, and my older son has ditched us for college. So, there you have it. A pup was in the cards.

Do I want him? NO.

Do I love him? Sort of, kind of.

Okay, yes. Fine. Yes. (But he's driving me crazy!)

Am I happy for my kid?


Indeed.

At any rate, since most of you who may be reading at this point are probably Teachers Write! campers, many who spent the summer working on manuscripts, and because, in a moment of weakness** I offered to review a query for any Teachers Write camper who visited Friday Feedback more than twice, I've been, in fact, reviewing queries, most of which have been startling good for a first stab.

But some of you. . . well a few of you. . . ahem.

So, I thought I'd take five seconds (okay, maybe minutes***) to remind you what a query -- at least in fiction -- is and should be, and to the contrary, ISN'T and (dear god) shouldn't be.

What it is : THREE paragraphs. You heard me, THREE. If you need a fourth, so be it. If I see five, well, that's out of the question. The first: telling the particular agent why you're writing to them and what your manuscript is. The second: A compelling two or three sentence synopsis of your story - main characters, what the conflict is, what the gist of the resolution is. I know, I know: how am I supposed to do that in three sentences? That's part of the test. Part of letting an agent know you can encapsulate your story concisely, precisely and well. Just wait - oh, wait - until you have to help write jacket copy. And the third? That the manuscript is complete at ___ words, and one or two sentences about you THAT ARE PERTINENT. They don't really care if you blog, or tweet, or facebook -- EVERYONE does that now, though an editor may care ONCE you are agented and your manuscript is sold. They only care about some real and legit publication. I know that sounds harsh, but it's true.

Remember KISS? Keep It Simple Stupid? If KISS isn't in your brain from the moment you start writing your query to the time you finish, you're in trouble, I'm telling you now.

So, your query could look something like this (and I'm doing this off the top of my head in three minutes to make some points, so please don't hold me to polished -- understand concepts):

Dear ______,

I am writing to you about my manuscript THE PULL OF GRAVITY, because I read on Chuck Sambuchino's blog that you are particularly interested in contemporary YA fiction that tackles tough issues with a sense of humor.

THE PULL OF GRAVITY is narrated by 15-year-old Nick Gardner, an ordinary kid whose whose best friend, the Scoot, is dying of a freak disease. When Nick meets Jaycee Amato, a quirky new girl with Siberian Husky eyes and an odd affinity for Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, they set off on a secret whirlwind road trip to keep a promise to their dying friend. But when plans fall apart, will the pull of gravity be enough to keep everything together?

The Pull of Gravity is a poignant yet funny look at loss, family struggles, friendship and first love, complete at 52,000 words. When I'm not writing, I'm a divorce lawyer/mediator, which is why my stories often touch on the struggles of a family to stay together in a world that is often challenging. Pursuant to your information on Chuck Sambuchino's guide, I am pasting the first three pages below. I'd love the opportunity to share the entire manuscript.

Kindest regards,

Notice (if you've read my book) what my query leaves out: It leaves out setting (not important to my story in a huge way), it leaves out Jeremy (important to the story but not germane to the query!). It leaves out Rochester, Albany, The Doofus, that they play shuffleboard (one of my personally favorite scenes in the book), the fight with the spoon (yep, another favorite, but it doesn't go in a query, man!), the bus trip, the news station, the hotel, the fever, and so on, and so on, and so on. It even leaves out Nick's big, fat Dad and his quest to walk 200 miles to NYC! (way, WAY important to the story. And, maybe I'd try a second version leaving him in, but my point is, if you boil my story down to its essence in one paragraph, you've got Nick, the Scoot and Jaycee).

WHY am I leaving so many rich, important parts of my story out? Because agents DON'T HAVE TIME. They get hundreds of these a week. They need to know scrolling your query in ONE MINUTE what your book is about. They don't want to read seven paragraphs and then go, huh. So what is the book ABOUT?

What you shouldn't do then? DON'T:


be chatty and familiar (oy! -- they'll be happy to be chatty and familiar with you when they take on your representation);tell them why these characters are your babies and how long you've worked on the book and how the world needs this story (let them be the judge of that, sorry);tell them minor details. Come on, writers, you can figure this out! tell them all the things you've published that are anything but major stuff in mainstream media -- yes, Huffington Post can count, but every other minor online site, not so much;tell them your friends, family or BETA readers loved your book.Am I being harsh? Maybe. But make no mistake: even though we are writers and writing is creative, it is a business, too. This is your first opportunity to show that you get it. That you understand where to be creative and rambling, and HOW to be objective, compelling and concise.
For other information on how to write a good query, check out:

Jeff Herman’s Guide to Book Publishers, Editors and Literary AgentsPublishers Marketplace(Robert Lee Brewer)http://www.agentquery.com/http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agentshttp://pred-ed.com/pubagent.htm
So, now you know. Good luck! And my offer still willingly stands. 
Oh, and, YES! It's Friday Feedback! So, if you want to post an excerpt between now and Sunday morning, please do! You know THE RULES!!! (and if you don't, please click on that link and read them before you post!). See you in the comments.
xox gae
** I am honestly completely happy to review your queries. It may be the lawyer in me, but it's rather an easy, enjoyable exercise for me to show you how to hone. But try first to Keep it Simple, okay?
*** okay, maybe an $)*&%$(*&%!! hour

Friday Feedback: Shhhhh...

shhh... don't tell anyone I'm here. 
So, Kate faked me out.

Said right here that Teachers Write was ending on the 12th.

Hmmm. Maybe she's trying to get rid of me.

So I thought LAST week, was the last Friday Feedback of the summer.

Guess I've got egg on my face.

If you missed last week, there were nice parting gifts and everything. I'm hoping a few of you will make it far enough in your writing to take me up on them soon!

So, anyway, yeah, I said last week was the last, so I lied, so shhhhh. Let's not tell anyone we're here. I mean, how can I close out the last week of Teachers Write without a Friday Feedback?

So, instead of an excerpt from a WIP from me, how about the first few paragraphs and a peek at the beautiful cover for my next YA, THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO -- since it's starting to pop up everywhere anyway.

ARC's in October. Release in March.

I can't wait for a second book.

If you'd like to post an excerpt, I'll read and give feedback. Like always. Come on. You know you want to. And don't forget THE RULES.

Happy end of summer, and happy back to school for those of you back in your classrooms already.

***


Chapter one .

It’s not even noon in not even July, yet already the sun bakes down hot and steady, making the air waffle like an oily mirage.

Lisette walks ahead of me, her blond ponytail bobbing happily, the stray strands lit gold by the sunshine that spills down through the fresh green canopy of leaves. Bradley holds tight to her hand, ducks to avoid the low-hanging branches. Prickles of sweat appear between his shoulder blades — dark gray spots against the pale blue cotton of his T-shirt that mesmerize me.

I shift my gaze to my spring green, no-lace Converse sneakers, wondering for the millionth time what it would feel like to have my hand in his.

As if he reads my thoughts, he turns for a second and smiles. My heart somersaults. I shouldn’t feel this way about Lisette’s boyfriend.

- gae

Friday Feedback: The Game of Writing and a Parting Gift

parting is such sweet sorrow,
so I decided to be goofy instead.
This writing game thing? It is hard. I aint gonna try to fool you. Hard to put yourself out there - to craft your best words, your best story, pour your heart and soul into it -- lay it out there for agents to pass on, editors to turn down, and when you get past those hurdles, out there for all the world to critique.

Or, I guess, in some of our cases *coughs*, a large handful of people to critique.

There are five star reviews, and one star reviews, there are writers who outsell and outpace you by vast strides, and readers who will never even hear of your book.

We must write, ultimately, for none of that. We must write because the images pop into our heads, beg to be considered, dissected, turned into meaningful prose. We write because we're compelled to, and because connecting with even one reader who feels your story in their soul is the most amazing thing in the world.

It is hard, but, oh, is it rewarding.

My personal journey has been filled with way more rejection than success. One of my favorite blog posts I ever wrote, was one when THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO (then, Frankie Sky) was just going out on submission. I compared my writing life, on those hard, unknowing days, to a game of Chutes & Ladders. (Later, I compared a great writing day as a game of Candy Land, too.)

As I started out the summer saying, the hardest part is often that so many of us write in a vacuum. We're alone in most of it, until we reach out to a trusted friend or mentor to read. And then, in our pages, they hold our heart in their hands.

So, to my dear Teachers Write campers, on this last official Friday Feedback of the 2013 Summer, I wanted to thank you all for sharing your heart here, putting your words out, asking for connection and allowing for critique. If you'd like to do it one more time today, I'm ready to read and type!

But I wanted to offer you a parting gift, too - though it will probably be more useful to the writers in the bunch who hope to be published one day vs. those who participated in TW solely for the altruistic reason of believing that to teach writing better, we must do writing better first.

So here is my offer (shhh, it's secret, don't tell the others...): to any of you who have been regular participants on Friday Feedback (defined as posting here at least twice this summer, or more), when you are ready to submit your manuscripts out into the world, I will be happy to either a) review your query for you (I let you in on the fact that I have been called the "Query Queen" by some...) or b) have a brief phone or Skype chat with you and try to answer your querying/publishing questions. That is my Friday Feedback parting gift to those who have shared their words here.

If you wish to take me up on this now, or at any time in the future, you may email me at g.polisner@gmail.com. If you have used a "screen name" here throughout the weeks, and I'm not well-versed in your real name, remind me of both, and tell me a bit of what your manuscript excerpts you posted were about. Those are the pieces I remember most easily. The details of the lovely bits you shared.

So, with that said, I'm ready to read and give feedback. Post away, and remember the RULES.

One last note: If you think you'll miss participating in Friday Feedbacks during the school year and would like me to continue the feature once per month, please let me know in your comments. If there are enough of you, I will. If not, I will see many of you at NCTE! or next summer!

Good work! Keep going!

- gae

p.s. my second novel, THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO is now available for pre-order! The hardcover price is good. . . less than the current hardcover price for THE PULL OF GRAVITY up on Amazon, go figure.

Friday Feedback: How Does it All End?!

Somehow -- impossibly -- we only have two more weeks of Teachers Write. 
I know, I know, I'm as sad as you are. Maybe sadder. 
Since we're getting near the end of camp, I thought maybe we should talk about how to write a good ending and then I thought, nobody better than my real life pal (and virtual bestie), Amy Fellner Dominy, author of OyMG 
and Audition & Subtraction (and many more to come!), 

someone I view as my personal plotting and story-arc guru, to talk to you about how. 

The great thing is, in reading Amy's offered post to prepare my post, I actually learned a ton. A TON!
So, it's long and I'm not cutting a word! 
Before I introduce you to Amy, please remember (as with all my guest authors) that she's spending a lot of time here today, so please check out her truly wonderful books, share them with your students, and help spread the word. 
Also, remember the RULES for Friday Feedback, or read them HERE. 
Okay, on that note, here is Amy. 

Thanks, Gae. And, hi, all! So, yes, let's talk endings! 
Great endings make you sigh, tear-up or smile. They make you sad for the book to be over, and they make you want to flip the pages and go back to the beginning and start again. 
Great endings are, simply put, satisfying.
If only they were simple to write! So, here are a few tips and suggestions that will hopefully help. I'll see you for feedback, in the comment section!

ANSWER THE QUESTION In a way, a story is really just a series of questions you create in the reader’s mind. What will happen next? What will she do? How will he get out of this? Where do they go from here?Think about books you love. There is nearly always one BIG question that keeps you turning pages.  This is the central problem, or the story problem.
Will Frodo destroy the ring?Will Katniss survive The Hunger Games?Will Wilbur the Pig avoid becoming bacon?
Think about your own story—what’s the central problem?  Your most important job at the end of your book is to make sure you answer that question.
Seems obvious, right? But it’s easy to wander off with other characters and plot turns and lose sight of the story you’re telling. 
(Gae chimes in to say: oh, yes, how I have wandered. In THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO (March, 2014), this was one of my editor's biggest issues with the manuscript. She felt I had hedged at the end, and she pushed me to really go back truly answer the story's central question! I'm so glad she did and I did. But, it really is easy to wander and avoid, and not even realize you did...)
In fact, when I start a new book, I tape the story problem above my computer screen because it keeps me focused as I write. In OyMG, it was this: Will Ellie win the scholarship & get into Benedicts?  One other point to mention:  The story problem is often an EXTERNAL conflict but you may also have an internal (emotional) conflict.  For Ellie, it was a matter of her faith and identity.  As the author, you want to resolve BOTH conflicts at the end. 
FOLLOW THE RAMEN RULE  Along with the STORY PROBLEM, you’ve probably got your readers wondering about a dozen other things. Will Aragorn become King? Does Katniss choose Peeta or Gale? What happens to Charlotte and her babies?  Resolve your sub-plots—make sure you haven’t left any unanswered questions (unless you’re doing it deliberately.) 
I call it the Ramen Rule because I once listened to a book where a lady brings a guy a hot meal. (Ramen noodles.) He’s touched by the gesture. A beautiful romantic moment blooms to life but do I care? NO. Because I’m thinking about the ramen noodles and how they’re getting cold. In fact, the guy NEVER EATS HIS DINNER! The author obviously forgot about the noodles—they were just a plot device.  But as the reader, I didn’t forget.  So tie up loose ends. 
(I love your "Ramen Rule," Amy! Before I was ever close to being published, I hired KL Going to critique a manuscript I wrote and she referred to this concept as sewing a quilt. The threads that start at the beginning of the quilt and weave their way through the middle, must come out the other side and be tied up at the end. That imagery has always helped me. Now I will balance a bowl of ramen noodles on my quilt for good measure!) 

BE TRUE TO YOUR CHARACTERS            Whatever happens at the end of your book, happy or tragic, funny or heart-breaking, make sure it’s believable.  I just read an early Jack Reacher novel by Lee Child. Jack did some insanely far-fetched stunts to save the country. I believed every one because he does that stuff.  But there was also a moment when he was broken-hearted over a lady FBI agent, as if he would have married her. Does that make Jack seem like a loving, sensitive guy? Yeah. But I didn’t buy it. That’s not the kind of man he is and the author didn’t convince me he’d changed. 
Don’t give us the ending you want or the ending you think we want: give us the ending earned by your character.
Another note on this: Perfectly happy endings are difficult to believe. Why? Because they so rarely happen in real life.  Not everyone gets everything they want without anyone paying the price. If you’ve written an ending that’s too good to be true, then readers will sense this and not feel satisfied.
KEEP SUSPENSE HIGH RIGHT UP TO THE END Don’t let the reader guess the outcome, if you can help it.  Right up until the very last second, failure and disaster should be possibilities.
AVOID BARN DOOR SYNDROME . If you’ve never heard of this, it’s because I just made it up. But it describes a common phenomenon. Because authors nearing the end of a book are often just like horses nearing the barn: We want to get there. FAST. So remember: Endings deserve the same amount of love and attention that we give to our beginnings.
WHEN IT’S OVER, IT’S OVER Once you’ve resolved the conflict, then give the reader a brief moment of happiness or calm or a sense of completion.  Then…THE END.  Don’t drag it out or tack on a new problem.  If you’re writing a series, you give that brief moment of calm and then drop a new shoe.  (Pet peeve: Series books that end in mid-conflict. That’s not an ending to me. That’s a chapter break.  Resolve the conflict. Then…create a new one for book 2.)
So, those are some tips for endings.  But really, the one single most important thing I can tell you is to get there.  Some way. Some how.  Reach the ending because it’s a truly amazing feat to complete a book, flaws and all.  And, only after you’ve finished, can you start revising.  J
Okay, so I guess it's my turn to share. Because I can’t share the end of my WIP titled A MATTER OF HEART, here’s a brief moment when my character has reached a different sort of an end. She's gotten some bad news that could really change her life for the worst.

If you'd like to share a similar "ending" in your WIP, please do! Or, of course, share whatever you want to share (as long as you follow Gae's rules)! Oh, and btw, I'm on Pacific time, so it may take me a few hours in the morning to get here. See you then!

* * * * *

I’m running into the dark into nothing and it’s exactly where it feels like my life is going.  Tears stream unchecked and I push harder with my legs, pump my arms, the sound of my sobs like an echo that follows me.  Prickly bushes catch and rip at my pants and a loose branch flies up and scrapes my arm.  It feels good, the pain. More pain.  Pain layered on pain, and I want to burn it all up on this trail. I want to go so fast I leave it all behind. I want to leave me behind and I want to fly to where the pain can’t reach me at all. 

- Amy & Gae

Friday Feedback: A Writing Problem or Two

Hey, Campers!

Can you believe we're wrapping up our FIFTH week?! Me neither.

I hope many of you are starting to feel writerly, and some of you are wrapped up in that exciting phase of seeing that you can actually make a story come alive before your very eyes. I hope there are hooky beginnings and vomit drafts appearing, and for some of you, maybe you are in the thick of revision. 

I hope it is fun to share here, and that you take something from it -- at a minimum, the sense that writing can be a community sport where you can get input and advice from others who want you to succeed.

Speaking of which, I have another Algonquin Young Readers ** co-hort with me this week, 
the fabulous Amy Herrick whose first middle grade novel, The Time Fetch (SLJ starred review, ages 10+) comes out from AYR on August 27th. 

Amy says of Time Fetch: "The original notion for this story came from my suspicion that there isn't as much time as there used to be. I wondered if it was possible that something had gotten into our world and was stealing the stuff. Out of this arose a winter solstice fantasy/science fiction story about four young people who accidentally let loose just such a dangerous and insatiable power."  

Please look for Time Fetch in August and add it to your classroom shelves and library!

Amy is also an educator, a mom, and the author of two novels for adults: At the Sign of the Naked Waiter  and The Happiness Code. 

So, without further ado (except a reminder to read the FRIDAY FEEDBACK RULES if you haven't been here before), I give you Amy and a chance to give and get feedback!


Amy, taking a writing break with her pal. Dear Writers!  What kind of madness is this?  To invent characters. To make up stories for them. To get them down on paper in such a way that they tempt a reader to come in and sit down.  And then to keep the reader sitting by the fire, listening until the very last word. What hubris! What chutzpah!
Yet here we are, oh brave and intrepid ones.  It is Friday.  We will stick out our necks.  We will dare to try our hands at this heroic and necessary thing, for where would the world be without the story tellers?
I notice that the Friday conversation often turns to the brain freezing problem of how, exactly, to find your way from the beginning to the end of your story.  Best to start out with a map, a plan?  Best to just close your eyes and plunge ahead without turning around till you’ve got a draft?  Best to go moseying along, erasing and adventuring and discovering as you go?  Do not imagine that I know the answer.  But I do love Geoff Herbach’s advice to try writing into your tale a ways, and then begin a more serious outlining attempt. Sensible and workable advice, I think.  I’m going to try to remember it, but here’s a description of how it usually goes for me:
I begin with the intent to stay moving and not to stop.  An idea or a character has come to me.  I believe I sense the shape of the whole story stretching away into the distance. I leap up on my high horse. I urge us forward, a nudge with the knees, a little flick of the whip.  Go my trusty steed. Do you see it? There’s something glimmering up ahead between the trees.  Hurry, hurry before we lose it.  And off we gallop for a few paragraphs or so, and then abruptly we slow down to a trot and shortly thereafter, we stop, not simply because there’s the usual:  the unmarked fork in the road and then the mist that descends and causes us to lose our way and then the strange old woman who appears suddenly from out of the mist and wants to sell us a hatful of dried beans, but also because there’s  a whole maddening swarm of questions buzzing around our heads:  
What tense shall the story be told in? From whose point of view?  Shall the narrator’s voice stand close or distant?
In any case, I end up slow as rust, as mud, as a snail on crutches. And much of it is misery. Some of it is rapture.
But I see I am veering off the track, as always, and the rapture is another question, a discussion for another day.  Let me present the “problem” I am struggling with at the moment.  
I recently finished The Time Fetch, which is about four middle graders (Feenix, Danton, Brigit and Dweebo) who discover that a power has accidentally gotten loose in our world and is feeding upon our time. They must attempt to stop the time foragers before the entire space-time continuum unravels.  The story, told mostly in “close” third person, switches around, chapter by chapter, from one character to another.  (When I started it, I had only one main character, but the book took things into its own hands, as it tends to do!)  I found it a fearful challenge—trying to make each of the characters truly themselves, to make each voice distinct and someone the reader is eager to hear from again.
Now I have begun what appears to be a sequel to this tale (a summer solstice story—working title The Cemetery Dog)So here it goes.  Let me know any thoughts you have, if you think this is working or not.  Too subtle? Too preposterous? And, are you curious to find out what is really going on?
And then, of course, I am eager to see what you will share of your own work!



 “I’m gonna tell you a story.”His little brother looked up at him curiously.  “What kind of story? You mean like a made-up story?”Danton hesitated.  “Yes. A made-up story. A dog story.”Jay loved dogs.  “Go ahead, then.”“Well, a long time ago there were four friends and they lived near here and, before this story begins, something impossible had happened to them.”  Here, a gust of wind spattered the rain angrily against the window.  Danton unfolded himself from the bed and went over looked out into the darkness.  “What? What’s out there?”   “Nothing,” Danton said.  He came back and sat down on the bed. Jay coughed and shook his head.  “Well, okay then.  What kind of impossible thing happened to these people?”“I can’t say.  I’m not allowed to talk about that. But the thing was that after this impossible thing happened they discovered they were under a…well, a curse, I guess. The curse was that they were being driven crazy by an itch they couldn’t scratch.” “Oh, I hate that,” Jay said. “Where was the itch?”“No, no, no.  It wasn’t that kind of itch. Maybe it was more like a thirst. A craving. Like when you really, really want a chocolate milkshake.  Only it wasn’t a milkshake they wanted.”“OK.  What was it that they really, really a wanted?”“They wanted to go back to the place where the impossible thing had happened to them.  They wanted to go into Prospect Park.” “Prospect Park?! Our Prospect Park?!”“Yes. Ours.” “I don’t understand.  Why didn’t they just walk into the park, if that’s what they wanted to do so bad?”“Well, they tried, of course.  But that was the thing.  Every time they got near one of the park entrances something always seemed to stop them. Once it started to hail—these big killer chunks of ice, shaped like  macaroons.  Once a tree just uprooted itself and fell down right across the sidewalk in front of them and almost made them into paninis.  Then, last week they were just going in the Ninth Street entrance---“Jay interrupted.  “Last week?  Didn’t you say this happened a long time ago?”- Amy (& gae!)
** speaking of Algonquin Young Readers, my second YA novel, The Summer of Letting Go, March 2014, was just announced in Publishers Weekly Sneak Previews! Getting closer to print! 

Friday Feedback: Begin Again with Gusto

Hey, all,

So, somehow, impossibly, it's already the middle of July!
Clearly the summer gods I pleaded to weeks ago for summer to go slow are not in a generous mood.
If it's not bad enough that summer is FLYING, I know some of you are struggling with the fact that you *think* you're not getting enough done with Teachers Write, or feeling like you haven't written as much as you wanted to.
I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell my son who has taken up the incredibly frustrating sport of golf: Play each hole like it's your first. Don't worry about what happened the hole before.
Same with Teachers Write. Haven't accomplished as much as you hoped? No worries. 
Today is the first day of the rest of your writing life. 
Go on. Dive in! Recommit! Re-energize.
Begin to begin.

Here, a little mood music to get you in, well, the mood.
Yay! That's better, right?
And, on that note, it's time for Friday Feedback! If you've never participated in Friday Feedback before PLEASE STOP HERE AND READ THE RULES! 
Thanks. So. Keeping with the theme of new beginnings, my fabulous guest author, Lisa Martin, is going to talk about . . . beginnings. Those of you who posted your beginnings before now have another chance. Have you monkeyed with it since then? Made revisions? Now you can see how they went. Were you sad you missed the chance before? Voila! Chance is here again.
I'll let Lisa tell you more about her and lead you through Friday Feedback. 
Yep, Lisa Martin
Hi everyone, and thanks so much Gae for having me! 
I wrote  Anton and Cecil: Cats at Sea  with my aunt, Valerie Martin, who is an award-winning author of adult fiction, 
and in the process I learned a ton from her. 
(Psst, you guys, this is Gae, and this is her terrific new middle grade book, Anton and Cecil:  
In the tradition of Stuart Little and Wind in the Willows: The swashbuckling adventures of two very  different cat brothers who must brave the perils  of the bounding main in search of each other— and a way home. It releases October 2103 from my new publisher Algonquin Young Readers, so please check it out, and pick up a copy for your home or classroom then!)

Everybody expects the big things like controlling plot and pacing to be challenging, but most surprising to me were the tricky details of writing, like dialogue (hard!) and humor (so hard!), and, as has been discussed on this forum, openings.
Great openings are magical—they draw the reader in and make her feel like she’s in good hands with a confident writer. Openings that are too slow or boring or (worse) confusing, are a complete letdown.  
Here’s one I like:
“The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do.”  -- Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls
The narrator acknowledges the monster arrival cliché in a confidential, yet still spooky way.  Very concise.  Here’s another:
“It has been sixty-four years since the president and the Consortium identified love as a disease, and forty-three since the scientists perfected a cure.”  -- Lauren Oliver, Delirium
Precise details, a futuristic setting and unique problem presented, and you’re intrigued, right?  One more, a long, rich sentence from the opening of one of Valerie’s novels.
“Dark hair and lots of it, heavy brows, sharp features, dark eyes, dark circles under the eyes, dark looks about the room, at the maître d’, the waitress, the trolley laden with rich, tempting desserts, and finally, as Toby guides her to the table, at Chloe, who holds out her hand and says pleasantly, though she is experiencing the first tentative pricks of the panic that will consume her nights and disrupt her days for some time to come, “Salome, how good to meet you.”  -- Valerie Martin, Trespass
I mean, wow.  So here are the first couple of paragraphs of a new novel I’ve been working on.  Tell me if the intrigue factor is there, or if I need to be clearer, quicker, or more amped.


Thinking back on it later, Pierce realized that he must have been cursed just before the mile run. 
One minute, he was walking across the soccer field behind the school with the rest of the 6th grade, joking with Finn, who was asking how somebody as short and scrawny as Pierce could run so fast.  Caroline stole Finn’s baseball cap and dashed ahead.  The thick morning fog felt like walking through a cloud and they spun around and swiped at it.
And the next minute Pierce was doubled over, down on one knee, his heart stuttering, a chill sweeping over him.  His insides felt as if they were escaping, like the air being let out of a balloon, the space beneath his ribs left hollow and silent as a cave.  Pierce waited, crouched and shaking, and the feeling faded like a slow breath drawn out of him.
Caroline ran back to him through the fog.  She put her hands on his shoulders.  Are you okay?  Finn helped him stand.  Are you hurt?  For a few seconds their voices seemed warped, their faces misshapen and pale.  Then the air and the sound cleared, and everyone stared at him.  Pierce took a breath and shook his head.  No.  I’m not hurt.  The soccer field stretched out under his feet, the damp breeze slipped over his skin, and standing down the hill near the woods was Mr. Marshall, the P. E. Teacher, waving them over to start the race.  And so they shrugged and kept walking.
What happened later made it seem more like a gift than a curse, at least for a while.
Some things are like that.


Thanks for any feedback, and looking forward to reading your excerpts!  Tremendous gratitude toward all you teachers (and librarians!) who do the most important work of all.  
My best, Lisa
(& gae)