Augusta Scattergood's Blog, page 56
September 11, 2012
My September 11
I thought I'd skip this year.
That this year would be the first time I didn't really feel so sad on September 11th. But I guess that's something we will live with forever. Listening to the live replay from 2001 just about did me in this morning. So I'm sharing something I wrote back then.
You don't have to read it. Really.
I just had to write it.
But while you're here, I'll share two other blog posts from fellow kids' writers. I invite you to see how they experienced September 11th as New Yorkers.
Meg Cabot Elizabeth Eulberg
I experienced it as someone living in New Jersey, married to an airline pilot, with a daughter living in D.C.
As many of you know, I was in Paris on September 11, 2001. I'd gone to visit my friend, Kay, and to mark my very first September in many years that I hadn't started school in some capacity or another.
Now I'm sharing a letter I wrote after I returned to New Jersey. A letter my friend Beth originally posted on her USA DeepSouth website. I have condensed it. This is mostly for me to remember. Although truly I don't think I need anything in writing.
Just seeing the news replayed this morning was enough.
Here's my letter, nonetheless.
Dear Friends,
Thanks to all of you who have worried and wondered about our whereabouts over the last two weeks. All the Scattergoods are home now, and glad of it. Thanks for your emails, they are quite a commentary on what happened. I think I will keep them forever.
The first subject lines from my sister, my friend Frank, and brother Jack, and others are chilling to read: "Where are you?" "Is Jay on the ground?" "Kate okay?"
If this was one of those life-defining moments, a time in history that you never forget where you were, some day my story will sound more glamorous than it is. "I was in Paris on September 11th" sounds very different from the reality.
I went to visit my friend Kay in her student garret, bunk beds and all. She was there studying. I went to keep her company. What was to have been a few days of eating, shopping, practicing my high school French, turned into ten days I'll never forget.
But then, who will.
Kay and I were in a perfume shop in the center of the city near the American Embassy when a Frenchman came in, agitated, speaking rapidly in French. When his story was translated, we didn't believe a word of it. An airplane had flown into two tall towers?
We rushed down the street to the Hotel Intercontinental. The concierge led us to the bar where he'd tuned a TV in to CNN, in English. There we saw what the rest of the world was seeing. We still didn't believe it.
After the horrible confusion of trying to call home to find out if our families were safe-- Kay has kids and a husband who work in the city, I have a husband who flies airplanes for a living-- we realized the phone lines weren't working. We quickly returned to our apartment. In the space of a few hours, all the trash cans in Paris had been covered or removed. The gendarmes on the street now wore bulletproof vests.
We communicated via email at the little internet cafe down the street. We were constant figures, sharing the space with teenagers blasting away at video games. Disconcerting, but our only lifeline back to New York and New Jersey.
My daughter Kate immediately sent word from her office in Washington that she was okay. She'd also called Kay's son, her friend, who worked in the city. He reported that he and his sister were both safe. We breathed a slight sigh of relief, not a big one.
Only later did I hear that Jay had taken off from Newark at approximately 9 AM, flying a Continental flight to San Francisco on that Tuesday morning. As he taxied out onto the runway, he caught a glimpse of United Flight 93.
Jay diverted to Grand Rapids where he spent the next two days trying to get himself, his crew, the passengers, home. He reported that the passengers were amazingly calm when they heard the announcement: "Because of a national emergency," they were landing immediately in Grand Rapids. Everybody picked up a cellphone and tried to call somebody, somewhere. He finally drove a shared rental car back to New Jersey.
It became obvious that I wasn't leaving Paris any time soon. All flights were grounded, and the international ones didn't start back for a while. Once they did begin to fly, my standby status guaranteed I was not going anywhere.
The temptation to make the best of the situation wasn't there. My friend Julie emailed from Baltimore which museums to visit and ice cream not to miss. It was a hard sell. But we tried. And we did have our moments- strolling along the Aquaduct, sampling the Berthillon. As Kay and I walked around the city, we were struck by the sympathy of the normally aloof Parisians. Twice we were stopped on the street by older women who asked if we were Americans, patted us on the arms, and said how sorry they were. A neighbor invited us to watch her TV and translated the news. All the time shaking her head, near tears. We were all shaking heads, near tears, weren't we.
Probably the most unforgettale moment of the almost two weeks happend on Friday, September 14. The sun was shining. I decided to take a walk.
I was drawn to the back of Notre Dame Cathedral, by the bells from the tower. I remembered the little garden from another visit with our friends Frank and Ivy, not long ago. I crossed over to the side of the cathedral to look at the gargoyles when I realized there was absolutely no sound coming from the street. Frightening at first, eerie. Then I saw thousands of people standing in total silence in front of Notre Dame. Heads bowed; some even knelt. Traffic had stopped, and there was no noise. After a few minutes the church bells pealed again. People walked away slowly, heads still bowed. I moved closer to the church and read the sign tacked to the door: Three minutes of silence will be observed at 11:45.
I learned later that this happened all over the world. My friend Keith emailed that her daughter who lived in London had attended a service there. Others wrote that Bishop Gray had preached at a church in downtown Jackson, where they worshiped. And observed that same silence.
I began to feel connected to people all over the world. A small comfort. But a comfort.
When I returned to New Jersey after the planes started flying again, I was struck by the sadness everywhere. No small talk in the grocery store. No one lingering in the library to gossip. Just a sense of sorrow as we hear of more and more friends and acquintances still not accounted for. Flags fly from every house. Last night our town held a candlelight service at the football field. When it was over, people with flashlights, baby strollers, dogs on leashes walked home. Police and firemen in uniforms stood at quiet attention at various street corners.
But it wasn't a parade. There was that same silence I felt at Notre Dame, the same sadness my daughter and sister-in-law tell me is all over the city of Washington. I suspect it is all over this country.
None of us will ever forget where we were on September 11th. Or how much we lost.
When I flew into Newark, finally, the sight of the changed NYC skyline took my breath away. I looked back at the passengers on our plane and saw so many tears. The sky doesn't look right. Well, it isn't right. And it makes us all sad.
September 28, 2001
A year later, I added this to my notes:
Our little town is healing. We lost at least eleven people from Chatham, NJ, and our neighboring towns of Madison and Summit lost that many also. We are on the train line that so many still take each day to work downtown. Our communities have planted trees at the stations, commemorating "Our friends who left on the train that day and didn't return that night."
That this year would be the first time I didn't really feel so sad on September 11th. But I guess that's something we will live with forever. Listening to the live replay from 2001 just about did me in this morning. So I'm sharing something I wrote back then.
You don't have to read it. Really.
I just had to write it.
But while you're here, I'll share two other blog posts from fellow kids' writers. I invite you to see how they experienced September 11th as New Yorkers.
Meg Cabot Elizabeth Eulberg
I experienced it as someone living in New Jersey, married to an airline pilot, with a daughter living in D.C.
As many of you know, I was in Paris on September 11, 2001. I'd gone to visit my friend, Kay, and to mark my very first September in many years that I hadn't started school in some capacity or another.
Now I'm sharing a letter I wrote after I returned to New Jersey. A letter my friend Beth originally posted on her USA DeepSouth website. I have condensed it. This is mostly for me to remember. Although truly I don't think I need anything in writing.
Just seeing the news replayed this morning was enough.
Here's my letter, nonetheless.
Dear Friends,
Thanks to all of you who have worried and wondered about our whereabouts over the last two weeks. All the Scattergoods are home now, and glad of it. Thanks for your emails, they are quite a commentary on what happened. I think I will keep them forever.
The first subject lines from my sister, my friend Frank, and brother Jack, and others are chilling to read: "Where are you?" "Is Jay on the ground?" "Kate okay?"
If this was one of those life-defining moments, a time in history that you never forget where you were, some day my story will sound more glamorous than it is. "I was in Paris on September 11th" sounds very different from the reality.
I went to visit my friend Kay in her student garret, bunk beds and all. She was there studying. I went to keep her company. What was to have been a few days of eating, shopping, practicing my high school French, turned into ten days I'll never forget.
But then, who will.
Kay and I were in a perfume shop in the center of the city near the American Embassy when a Frenchman came in, agitated, speaking rapidly in French. When his story was translated, we didn't believe a word of it. An airplane had flown into two tall towers?
We rushed down the street to the Hotel Intercontinental. The concierge led us to the bar where he'd tuned a TV in to CNN, in English. There we saw what the rest of the world was seeing. We still didn't believe it.
After the horrible confusion of trying to call home to find out if our families were safe-- Kay has kids and a husband who work in the city, I have a husband who flies airplanes for a living-- we realized the phone lines weren't working. We quickly returned to our apartment. In the space of a few hours, all the trash cans in Paris had been covered or removed. The gendarmes on the street now wore bulletproof vests.
We communicated via email at the little internet cafe down the street. We were constant figures, sharing the space with teenagers blasting away at video games. Disconcerting, but our only lifeline back to New York and New Jersey.
My daughter Kate immediately sent word from her office in Washington that she was okay. She'd also called Kay's son, her friend, who worked in the city. He reported that he and his sister were both safe. We breathed a slight sigh of relief, not a big one.
Only later did I hear that Jay had taken off from Newark at approximately 9 AM, flying a Continental flight to San Francisco on that Tuesday morning. As he taxied out onto the runway, he caught a glimpse of United Flight 93.
Jay diverted to Grand Rapids where he spent the next two days trying to get himself, his crew, the passengers, home. He reported that the passengers were amazingly calm when they heard the announcement: "Because of a national emergency," they were landing immediately in Grand Rapids. Everybody picked up a cellphone and tried to call somebody, somewhere. He finally drove a shared rental car back to New Jersey.
It became obvious that I wasn't leaving Paris any time soon. All flights were grounded, and the international ones didn't start back for a while. Once they did begin to fly, my standby status guaranteed I was not going anywhere.
The temptation to make the best of the situation wasn't there. My friend Julie emailed from Baltimore which museums to visit and ice cream not to miss. It was a hard sell. But we tried. And we did have our moments- strolling along the Aquaduct, sampling the Berthillon. As Kay and I walked around the city, we were struck by the sympathy of the normally aloof Parisians. Twice we were stopped on the street by older women who asked if we were Americans, patted us on the arms, and said how sorry they were. A neighbor invited us to watch her TV and translated the news. All the time shaking her head, near tears. We were all shaking heads, near tears, weren't we.
Probably the most unforgettale moment of the almost two weeks happend on Friday, September 14. The sun was shining. I decided to take a walk.
I was drawn to the back of Notre Dame Cathedral, by the bells from the tower. I remembered the little garden from another visit with our friends Frank and Ivy, not long ago. I crossed over to the side of the cathedral to look at the gargoyles when I realized there was absolutely no sound coming from the street. Frightening at first, eerie. Then I saw thousands of people standing in total silence in front of Notre Dame. Heads bowed; some even knelt. Traffic had stopped, and there was no noise. After a few minutes the church bells pealed again. People walked away slowly, heads still bowed. I moved closer to the church and read the sign tacked to the door: Three minutes of silence will be observed at 11:45.
I learned later that this happened all over the world. My friend Keith emailed that her daughter who lived in London had attended a service there. Others wrote that Bishop Gray had preached at a church in downtown Jackson, where they worshiped. And observed that same silence.
I began to feel connected to people all over the world. A small comfort. But a comfort.
When I returned to New Jersey after the planes started flying again, I was struck by the sadness everywhere. No small talk in the grocery store. No one lingering in the library to gossip. Just a sense of sorrow as we hear of more and more friends and acquintances still not accounted for. Flags fly from every house. Last night our town held a candlelight service at the football field. When it was over, people with flashlights, baby strollers, dogs on leashes walked home. Police and firemen in uniforms stood at quiet attention at various street corners.
But it wasn't a parade. There was that same silence I felt at Notre Dame, the same sadness my daughter and sister-in-law tell me is all over the city of Washington. I suspect it is all over this country.
None of us will ever forget where we were on September 11th. Or how much we lost.
When I flew into Newark, finally, the sight of the changed NYC skyline took my breath away. I looked back at the passengers on our plane and saw so many tears. The sky doesn't look right. Well, it isn't right. And it makes us all sad.
September 28, 2001
A year later, I added this to my notes:
Our little town is healing. We lost at least eleven people from Chatham, NJ, and our neighboring towns of Madison and Summit lost that many also. We are on the train line that so many still take each day to work downtown. Our communities have planted trees at the stations, commemorating "Our friends who left on the train that day and didn't return that night."
September 9, 2012
Fun Times in Carolina!
The BOOKMARKS Festival is the best!
I loved meeting new friends- what great volunteers. And randomly running into authors I'd forgotten I knew, and new ones I'm happy to know.
Every time we turned around, somebody was feeding us, leading us, asking for an autograph.
Here's a whirlwind recap, in pictures, of my three days in Winston-Salem.
I figured it was going to be a good day when my driver was holding an iPad instead of a big cardboard sign.
Being picked up by this Dude at the Greensboro airport kicked the weekend off.
On Friday I visited two schools. It was hat day for these fifth graders. If you made a small donation to the school's chosen charity, you got to wear a hat.
I'm not wearing a hat, but I am sharing my Junk Poker box.
With my new writer friend, Monika Schroder,
all dressed up for our party at the fabulous RENOLDA HOUSE.
Also at the Renolda House? (The only thing I dared snap a quick picture of. Amazing American art. Great tour, knowledgeable docent.)
Who remembers what these machines used to hold?
Downtown Greensboro has some amazing history. An easy walk from the hotel to discover this sign. You can read more about this event HERE.
The day of the festival started off sunny and hot.
The two fabulous ladies in charge of my StoryLine interview, on the air-conditioned bus. (Great questions, Jane!)
Over 7500 visitors. Tons of fabulous events. Food. Games and puppet shows. And BOOKS, BOOKS, BOOKS.Everywhere.
The rain held off till I started to speak. Then the skies opened up. Thunder. Wind.Fortunately I was indoors, not under a tent.
But the books were under tents, so those amazing volunteers scurried to whisk them into safety and everybody took cover. A great event. Thank you, volunteers. Thank you, BookMarks!
I loved meeting new friends- what great volunteers. And randomly running into authors I'd forgotten I knew, and new ones I'm happy to know.
Every time we turned around, somebody was feeding us, leading us, asking for an autograph.
Here's a whirlwind recap, in pictures, of my three days in Winston-Salem.
I figured it was going to be a good day when my driver was holding an iPad instead of a big cardboard sign.
Being picked up by this Dude at the Greensboro airport kicked the weekend off.
On Friday I visited two schools. It was hat day for these fifth graders. If you made a small donation to the school's chosen charity, you got to wear a hat.
I'm not wearing a hat, but I am sharing my Junk Poker box.
With my new writer friend, Monika Schroder,
all dressed up for our party at the fabulous RENOLDA HOUSE.
Also at the Renolda House? (The only thing I dared snap a quick picture of. Amazing American art. Great tour, knowledgeable docent.)
Who remembers what these machines used to hold?
Downtown Greensboro has some amazing history. An easy walk from the hotel to discover this sign. You can read more about this event HERE.
The day of the festival started off sunny and hot.
The two fabulous ladies in charge of my StoryLine interview, on the air-conditioned bus. (Great questions, Jane!)
Over 7500 visitors. Tons of fabulous events. Food. Games and puppet shows. And BOOKS, BOOKS, BOOKS.Everywhere.
The rain held off till I started to speak. Then the skies opened up. Thunder. Wind.Fortunately I was indoors, not under a tent.
But the books were under tents, so those amazing volunteers scurried to whisk them into safety and everybody took cover. A great event. Thank you, volunteers. Thank you, BookMarks!
September 6, 2012
Quote of the Day
I opened a 3-pack of mini notebooks to take along with me on my travels.
I always have a notebook handy, don't you? And when I talk to kids, I tell them that.
Each has a quote. I can't quite decide which will inspire us the most.
Van Gogh: "Looking at the stars always makes me dream."
Shakespeare: "Joy delights in joy."
or (Mr./ Ms.) Unknown: "Happiness is a bright and shining thing."
(Click here for more. And a link to writing quotes.)
I always have a notebook handy, don't you? And when I talk to kids, I tell them that.
Each has a quote. I can't quite decide which will inspire us the most.
Van Gogh: "Looking at the stars always makes me dream."
Shakespeare: "Joy delights in joy."
or (Mr./ Ms.) Unknown: "Happiness is a bright and shining thing."
(Click here for more. And a link to writing quotes.)
September 5, 2012
Beginner's Goodbye
The Beginner's Goodbye by Anne TylerSuch a nice book to end the summer with.
So many favorite lines, but I particularly loved this:
(Aaron musing about moving into his sister's house)
But if I just showed up with no explanation and asked for my old room back, she would think I was having a nervous breakdown or something. She would turn all motherly and there-there. She would be thrilled.
(the "thrilled" in italics. Perfect.)
Aaron's asides are spot-on. That "bear in mind she was fond of talking" sounded so authentic! Can't you just hear somebody saying that?
I love what one Goodreads reviewer said about the brevity-- That some readers had complained about it being too short. "So read it twice."
I just may.
View all my reviews
September 4, 2012
Happy September!
Where I live in N.J., it's back-to-school week. I always get a little nostalgic this time of year. Especially when I read what fun other librarians are having, showing off new books, fancying up their spaces, tacking greetings on bulletin boards (Okay, true confession, I hated bulletin boards...).
But I can still spread the word to fellow librarians and to teachers who are still in the trenches, working their hearts out.
Click to check out ⇒this great giveaway from Donna Gephart.
Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen= one funny book. I would so be booktalking and reading this one.
See what MR. SCHU read his kids on their first trips to his library:
http://mrschureads.blogspot.com/2012/08/welcome-to-2012-2013-school-year.html
And last but not least- for all the preschoolers out there (and their moms and dads) headed off to school for the very first time, check this link for a few books recently reviewed in the New York Times.
Have a great school year everybody- Read lots of books, make lots of friends, enjoy!
But I can still spread the word to fellow librarians and to teachers who are still in the trenches, working their hearts out.
Click to check out ⇒this great giveaway from Donna Gephart.
Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen= one funny book. I would so be booktalking and reading this one.
See what MR. SCHU read his kids on their first trips to his library:
http://mrschureads.blogspot.com/2012/08/welcome-to-2012-2013-school-year.html
And last but not least- for all the preschoolers out there (and their moms and dads) headed off to school for the very first time, check this link for a few books recently reviewed in the New York Times.
Have a great school year everybody- Read lots of books, make lots of friends, enjoy!
August 31, 2012
A way to write
You'll notice I didn't say THE way to write. Everybody has a different take on how to begin a novel. And maybe, perhaps, I think possibly some writers might use a different technique for each book.
I've heard tell about books that seem to fall onto the page. Others that take years to develop.
(Ahem. Let's not get too personal now...)
But if you're new at the game and looking for a way to jumpstart your novel, may I present fellow Jersey girl, writer Wendy Mass. Okay, she's born and bred, I'm a relative newcomer, only having lived in New Jersey 30 years. But she's a generous, fabulous writer, full of ideas.
I blogged about writing, about outlining, and about Wendy here.
If you don't know her books, look here.
My two personal favorites? Jeremy Fink and
Every Soul a Star.
And for her technique, check this link and click on the PDF of the essay she wrote about how she writes.
You are in for a real treat. My gift to you this Labor Day weekend.
Enjoy!
I've heard tell about books that seem to fall onto the page. Others that take years to develop.
(Ahem. Let's not get too personal now...)
But if you're new at the game and looking for a way to jumpstart your novel, may I present fellow Jersey girl, writer Wendy Mass. Okay, she's born and bred, I'm a relative newcomer, only having lived in New Jersey 30 years. But she's a generous, fabulous writer, full of ideas.
I blogged about writing, about outlining, and about Wendy here.
If you don't know her books, look here.
My two personal favorites? Jeremy Fink and
Every Soul a Star.
And for her technique, check this link and click on the PDF of the essay she wrote about how she writes.
You are in for a real treat. My gift to you this Labor Day weekend.
Enjoy!
August 28, 2012
More Writing Tips...
So many of my fellow writers have given me advice via their blogs.
Scroll around a bit and you'll find me sharing the posts of Kirby Larson,
Cynthia Lord, Caroline Starr Rose.
I love Barbara O'Connor's Writing Tip Tuesdays. This morning, her questions make me think hard.
So hard, I think I need a walk.
CLICK HERE for some excellent, quick, deadly-sinning advice.
Starting with this: What the heck is my story about?
Scroll around a bit and you'll find me sharing the posts of Kirby Larson,
Cynthia Lord, Caroline Starr Rose.
I love Barbara O'Connor's Writing Tip Tuesdays. This morning, her questions make me think hard.
So hard, I think I need a walk.
CLICK HERE for some excellent, quick, deadly-sinning advice.
Starting with this: What the heck is my story about?
August 26, 2012
Characters We Love to Hate
Writing Tip of the Day
It took me a while to learn this. Maybe you're still struggling with the concept. But this by writer Alexandra Finn nails it: BAD-ASS VIEWPOINT CHARACTERS.
Basically, don't make your characters totally unrelatable to your readers. Give your narrator a redeeming quality. A dog, a best friend who's funny, a sympathetic thought or two. And do it pretty close to the beginning.
Although the Story Sleuths have disbanded their blog, luckily for writers, their old posts are still there. I often reread what such favorite kids' writers as Cynthia Lord, Jennifer Holm, Rita Garcia-Williams have to advise us.
Here's their take on PRICKLY CHARACTERS.
And that's my advice for the day, completely pirated from others, but worth following. Now, back to writing and reading, all of us!
Related post: More from the Story Sleuths and Cynthia Lord
It took me a while to learn this. Maybe you're still struggling with the concept. But this by writer Alexandra Finn nails it: BAD-ASS VIEWPOINT CHARACTERS.
Basically, don't make your characters totally unrelatable to your readers. Give your narrator a redeeming quality. A dog, a best friend who's funny, a sympathetic thought or two. And do it pretty close to the beginning.
Although the Story Sleuths have disbanded their blog, luckily for writers, their old posts are still there. I often reread what such favorite kids' writers as Cynthia Lord, Jennifer Holm, Rita Garcia-Williams have to advise us.
Here's their take on PRICKLY CHARACTERS.
And that's my advice for the day, completely pirated from others, but worth following. Now, back to writing and reading, all of us!
Related post: More from the Story Sleuths and Cynthia Lord
August 23, 2012
Agent Info
It's not new news that writers need agents, mostly. I know I couldn't LIVE without mine. And it's also not a newsflash that finding an agent can be a difficult process. Very difficult.
I met Linda Pratt at a terrific SCBWI regional conference in Maryland. I've been forever, eternally, grateful to those volunteers on that summer weekend who put the two of us together.
There are plenty of places to find information on agents. One of the best is the carefully written and researched blog, LITERARY RAMBLES. (I think there must be over 75 Agent Profiles, with great links listed alphabetically on the blog.)
Click right ⇒ HERE for their profile of Linda.
And that's my gift to you today. Happy writing!
I met Linda Pratt at a terrific SCBWI regional conference in Maryland. I've been forever, eternally, grateful to those volunteers on that summer weekend who put the two of us together.
There are plenty of places to find information on agents. One of the best is the carefully written and researched blog, LITERARY RAMBLES. (I think there must be over 75 Agent Profiles, with great links listed alphabetically on the blog.)
Click right ⇒ HERE for their profile of Linda.
And that's my gift to you today. Happy writing!
August 20, 2012
Bookmarks Festival
Saturday, September 8- My calendar's marked!I'm so excited to be one of the authors traveling to Winston-Salem, NC for this free-to-the-public event, the annual BookMarks Festival.
Details to come, but if you're in the area, please stop by to say HELLO.
CLICK HERE for a list of all the amazing authors we'll get to say hello to!
