Judith L. Roth's Blog, page 2

Interview with author Shari Green

Shari Green is an award-winning MG author who lives on Vancouver Island in Canada. She was also my Pitch Wars mentor for 2017 and I am in awe of her generosity and insight. Her third novel, Missing Mike, is being released in the U.S. on September 14, 2018. Canada already had the pleasure this past spring. Below is an interview so you can get to know her better before you buy her book(s).

Could you please give a brief overview of your writing journey?

After dabbling in nonfiction for several years, I heard about NaNoWriMo* late in 2005 and dove into fast-drafting my first fiction manuscript. I was hooked! I wrote a couple more novels (all YA), attended conferences (SiWC) to learn more about writing, started a critique group, met amazing writer-friends, and rode the publishing roller coaster. In 2014 my first MG manuscript was selected for PitchWars. I worked with a terrific mentor, and the book eventually sold to Pajama Press and was published in 2016. Since then, I’ve published two more MG novels with Pajama Press.

(*NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month, when writers try to complete a 50000-word first draft in 30 days. Crazy-making, fun, and possible!)

Do you remember what prompted you to write Missing Mike?

I’d been wanting to write a dog story for a while, and last summer, I was daydreaming possible storylines, but meanwhile, British Columbia (my home province) was having its worst-ever wildfire season. Fires were bad in Alberta, too, and in California. Every day the news had stories and images of the fires, and of course I was impacted and influenced by that. My story became the story of 11-year-old Cara, whose family is evacuated due to wildfires, and her dog Mike, who gets left behind.

Do you consider yourself a dog person? Or do you like cats the same amount?

Absolutely a dog person. I like cats, too, but I’ve never had one in my family – it’s always been dogs.

Tell me about the dog that informs the character of the dog in your book.

Mike’s sweet, loyal nature is a reflection of my dear Mac – a Brittany Spaniel who owned a big piece of my heart for all of his 13 years. But the similarities end there, really. Mike is fictional. He’s a rescue dog, a mutt that was injured in a fight with coyotes. He had a loving family once, and after some time building trust, he and Cara fell madly in love. (That love part? That wasn’t hard to imagine.

Not a New Year’s resolution

After the intensity of Pitch Wars, I need to refocus on new writing.

I’ve started a new middle grade novel that may be cast as The Borrowers meets non-fatal Romeo and Juliet. I’m barely into the actual writing. But I made a decision today to get back on the horse of the sequel to Serendipity & Me as well. I’m going to do it by applying the magic of discipline.

When I was preparing for my senior recital at college, practicing the piano regularly was no longer just important, it was imperative. Somehow the discipline of practicing became easier the longer I did it. The discipline itself became enjoyable. So when I decided to start exercising regularly, I put the same idea into motion until exercising became enjoyable and something I didn’t (and don’t) want to miss.

I am ready to implement Project Discipline onto Serendipity & More. No matter what else I’m writing. I plan to write one poem a day, five times a week, to add to the manuscript. Surely this will move the novel into readiness. I’m sorry, readers-who-have-been-waiting, that it’s taken me this long to get this novel written. I vow to do better.

Feel free to check up on my progress. Accountability is a good thing.[image error]

 

first christmas thoughts

A first grandchild is another paradigm shift…

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Author duties

Part of being an author these days is promoting your book. Writers are often the sorts of people who spend long hours alone and like it that way. It can feel like a shock to come out of one’s quiet writing room and meet with people. But it gets easier with time.

Sitting at a book signing table, lonely with your books while passersby try not to catch your eye, ends up being harder to do than putting on a presentation. School visits, while initially scary, usually turn out to be energizing and inspiring. All those kids! All those sweet, smart kids!

Here I am at a recent author’s fair in a library in South Bend. In the background (center top) is my friend Kathy Higgs-Coulthard, with her book of the fantastic title–Hanging with My Peeps. (Hint: There are chickens involved.) She had a great idea of having an activity for kids as they passed by. My librarian friend, Tracy, has come to say hello and lend me some literary support. All it takes to make an author smile is to smile at them while they’re waiting with their books. Try it sometime and see if I’m right.

Deconstructing

[image error]Recently, I’ve been tearing down hundreds of soccer pictures  from my son’s room. I’ve left them up for years because I’m sentimental. He is the inspiration for my not-yet-published novel about a soccer-obsessed kid, and these walls are a visual reminder of how obsessed he was (and still is).

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Yes, those are players on the ceiling…

But now my son is coaching university boys. And in a few weeks he’ll be a father of his own (he hopes) soccer player. So it’s time for the room to transform.

It feels like I’m ripping down his childhood.

Sometimes it feels like this when I’m revising a story. My carefully cut and pasted words get torn down so the fresh future can be realized.

Not easy to do.

But easier when there’s a baby on the way.

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Serendipity teaser

 

I’m having a tough time writing the sequel to Serendipity & Me. Not sure if it’s because I’m doubtful of its publication chances, or what. But maybe by posting one of the first poems in the new manuscript I’ll get motivated. So here it is, (although I can’t get the correct indentations to work here):

I ask Dad,

Does Lola hate animals?

 

Of course not, he says.

Who really hates animals?

            But I saw a dog approach her once

            and she went the other way.

 

I guess they’ve never had the conversation.

The one I expect to have someday with anyone

who will be important in my life.

The one about What Is Your Favorite Animal

and How Many of Them Do You Plan on Caring for?

 

My answer right now would be cats

and a gazillion.

But maybe when I’m older

I’ll be more realistic about the number.

Maybe.

 

Dad takes my silence

for disapproval.

It’s just that I think she might be nervous

                        about animals.

            I don’t want to scare her off.

 

The thought of Lola

makes me nervous.

I wonder if he gave any thought

to that.

 

       

 

 

Changes

Although I’ve continued to work on fiction, I haven’t posted much here in the last year, other than a few poems. My life has felt different ever since last July when my mother entered the ICU and almost didn’t come out. She was there for 5 weeks; intubated for twice as long as is normally acceptable. I live over 2,000 miles away from my parents, so in the beginning, every day was shadowed and marked with a much-needed update on her condition. There wasn’t room in my brain for a lot more.

My first 10-day visit almost hollowed me out. But by the time I left, she was in an almost-normal hospital room. It felt miraculous, but still tenuous.

My second visit, her first week home, was a different kind of gut-wrench. To see my lively, capable mother so distressed felt equally distressing. (Although I’m sure it wasn’t.)

Then to see how remarkably she’d progressed by Christmastime was a full-out joy.

During this whole time and before, my brother–in-law had been battling cancer. He fought bravely and well for two years, but his last few weeks were devastating. He went Home a day before Valentine’s. His passing has left an enormous hole.

And now it is spring. The day before yesterday we celebrated Easter. I have a first grandchild on the way. I am recounting this now because life is ahead. But I will be forever altered by the last nine months.

Another cat poem

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Cat poem for fall

 

 

 

This picture is actually of Murray, and the poem was written about him. But as I was trying to get a poetry collection together, the name “Tigger” seemed to fit this poem better. I did have a cat named Tigger when I was a child. He was the only offspring of our cat, Thomasina, who we kept. For awhile. Until Thomasina decided it was time for him to leave the nest.

This is fall in Indiana in my neighborhood. I wish I could have snapped a picture of Murray being his crazy leaf-chasing tornado self. He looks rather staid here.

 

 

Poem about riches, sort of

Meant to be a picture book. Too serious?