Summer (Vacation) Reading List

I head out on vacation in a few short weeks (once we're past ALA, that is, where I hope to see some of you fine folk). But it's never too early to start thinking about what books I should take on vacation with me! Here's what I'm planning so far:

(I always like to take a volume of poetry on vacation, because I find few things more luxurious than whiling away a summer afternoon overlooking the ocean with a glass of wine and a book of poetry. And though I know and love her "greatest hits," I'm curious to see what I think of lesser-known Millay.)

(You better believe I'm going to do whatever it takes to get my grubby little hands on this at ALA, b/c if it's anything like Anna and the French Kiss, it'll be the perfect vacation read.)

(A colleague whose taste and editorial skills I quite admire edited Breadcrumbs, and I've been wanting to read it since the moment I heard about it--but I've been waiting till I had time to really savor it. It's a retelling of The Snow Queen. I adore retellings and The Snow Queen is my very favorite fairytale (so heartbreaking! so magical!), so I am primed to love this.

(Is it redundant to read travel writing while traveling? Perhaps, but both my editor self and my rookie travel writer self are excited for this one. "A sense of place" is one of the things I fall hardest for in any kind of writing, so a book devoted to that idea itself sounds delicious. Add that to it being a volume of general inspiration and craft-talk by some travel writing greats, and I'm totally sold.)

So that's a start, but I think I might have room in my bags for just a few more books. So...help me out! What have you read lately--any genre!--that was un-put-downable, or that made you stop and think, or that made you laugh, or that you just flat-out loved?

Dear Writers and Artists of SCBWI-Iowa

I am coming to meet you! Like, tomorrow. Like, I should be packing my suitcase right now instead of blogging (but I despise packing, so here I am). But I am quite looking forward to meeting you all, despite the fact that it will eventually involve packing. See you soon!

P.S. to writers and artists who aren't in Iowa: keep an eye on the "Places We Might Meet" list on the sidebar. I'll made some updates and will hopefully be adding another conference or two soon.

Vacation, vicariously. And also, writing.

I confess, it's a mite hard to come back to work after a week's vacation involving peaceful, miles-away-from-NYC moments like this:

and blazingly lovely sunsets over distant mountain-tops like this.

Okay, but I also confess that I'm leaving out all the days and nights where it rained and rained and rained, making highly-anticipated events like late night ghost stories around a campfire wholly impossible. (Despite the lovely fire pit that taunted us daily with its too-damp firewood.)

This weather tragedy, in turn, forced us to use up an entire bag of jumbo marshmallows playing Chubby Bunny instead of using them for s'mores/toasting purposes. And oh, how I would love to post those photos, but Travel Companion would disown me if I did so, given that few people look entirely flattering with nine jumbo marshmallows stuffed in their mouths. (For the record, I wussed out after six jumbo marshmallows, but mostly because I was laughing too hard to continue.)

But despite too much rain, a happy and creatively fulfilling vacation was enjoyed. And despite the foreboding signs that warned us that The Lone Zombie might be lurking in the woods around us,

(Beware of prowling zombies!)

we stumbled (err, deliberately off-roaded in the rental car) our way into some delightfully unanticipated scenic overlooks.

All of which reminds me of one of my favorite quotes (if you've heard the "Traveler or Tourist" talk I sometimes give at writers' conferences, you've heard this one before): 

 “Happiness on holiday often only comes when we get lost—in the alleys behind the great museum, in a market off the Grand Canal, in olive groves beyond the guidebook recommended town. We are suddenly among people that are not “extras” in a travelogue, but simply themselves. We shed our tourist guise and rediscover living.”— Australian poet Pam Brown

I'm convinced that the best traveling memories are often found in the moments we do not (and usually cannot) plan. The moments where we "get lost." Or when we're forced away from our plans entirely--say, by rain or zombies or an alluring not-quite-a path, wanting to be explored. 

And so very often, the same premise holds true in writing, too. (You knew I'd bring all this back around to books and writing and editing somehow, didn't you?) Sometimes, it's the wholly unplanned-for plot twists, the previously-unanticipated character developments, the subtle details that were never even conceived-of in your outline or original draft, that come to matter most. They can slip in quietly but become critical elements or perfect lines or most-beloved scenes in a book. And when you're forced to discard your initial perceptions of what you thought a story would be, sometimes you get the delight of seeing it transform into something else--something more fully alive and blazingly memorable than you even initially imagined it could be. (Okay, the truth is, sometimes unanticipated tangents are just dead-ends or rabbit holes that lead you wildly, unproductively astray. But I hope that at least sometimes, you also get the glorious kind of unplanned results, too!)

So, you tell me--what's one of your best entirely unplanned-but-memorable traveling stories? Or, for the writers--one of your completely-unexpected-but-later-deemed-brilliant story shifts that changed everything about what you thought you were writing? Or both? Tell me in the comments!

West-coast bound

It's that time of year again! Off I go to the beautiful Oregon coast to meet a crop of eager, ambitious writers and get up to our elbows in storytelling and writerly craft . . . and then to frolic beside the Pacific for a few days in one of my favorite little corners of the world.

See you in a few weeks!

Poetry Friday on a Sunday: "Letter to a Young Activist"

...because it seems that someone, somehow, keeps stealing all the hours out of my Fridays (and Saturdays, too, for that matter)!

Last week, while in Milwaukee to meet with the oh-so-warm-and-welcoming writers of SCBWI-Wisconsin, I got to spend a few hours roaming the campus of my alma mater, Marquette University. I'm a bit sappy and reflective by nature, so it should probably have been no surprise to me how much a visit like that would get under my skin, and sure enough, it did, leaving me profoundly grateful for my four years there. In a sense, Marquette marks for me the place and time where I first truly woke up to the world, just as I'm sure so many other MU alumni would say. It's where I first encountered all the rich possibility that comes from being human, and also the responsibility that comes from an awareness of one's humanity. It's where I learned that to be fully alive, one must be both firmly rooted in what one holds true and yet also open and engaged with the world, allowing and expecting growth to happen in unexpected ways and and shapes and places.

A decade after my graduation, I'm proud of my University--proud of its Jesuit mission, and that it continues to develop students who see the importance of living as "men and women for others." I'm proud of its focus on social justice and its activist spirit, and of the faith at its core, and that walking around campus last week made it clear to me that it's full of the same passionate vibrance and energy and awareness of and commitment to the world around it that I remember being constantly inspired by. I'm proud of the fact that it continues to attract smart, determined young people from all over the world who are determined to "Be the Difference." I'm proud of the ways it's committed to maintaining on-going links to, and conversation with, its family of alumni. And I'm proud that I can see almost an infinite number of connections between the person I am today and the education--intellectual, personal, spiritual--that I received at Marquette.

But! Poetry Friday, right? (I promise I'm getting there!) One of the first things I received as a freshman at Marquette--it was in my dorm room when I arrived, as in every other freshman's--was a gift, on behalf of our University Ministry office: a small book filled with reflections, prayers, quotes, and writings. One of them struck me deeply the very first time I read it, and in fact, it's been a guiding philosophy of my life ever since. It's not quite a poem, but to me, at least, it stirs the soul and provokes a certain sense of truth in the same way that a good poem does. And it's meant something entirely different yet equally important in each stage of my life thus far: as student, as youth minister, as children's book marketer, and now, as children's book editor. And if you read it with a writer's eyes, I expect it has something to say to writers, too.

Letter to a Young Activist
by Thomas Merton

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on ...you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself. And there, too, a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually you struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything....


(If so inclined, you can read the full letter here.)

And away we go!

I'm off to one of my many adopted hometowns tomorrow, this time to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, which is home to my wonderful alma mater Marquette University! And the glory that is Kopp's Frozen Custard! And wonderfully friendly people who call their water fountains "bubblers" and their ATMs "Tyme Machines." Best of all, I'm off to meet the good folks of SCBWI-Wisconsin, who have graciously invited me to speak at their Spring Luncheon. I'll be talking about why editors fall in love--and keeping my fingers crossed, too, that one of the writers in attendance just might have a story in the works that will make THIS particular editor fall in love. Cross your fingers for me!

P.S. Please don't break the internet or Twitter or let Facebook change their design again while I'm gone this time, okay, kids?

Of zombie cows, rainbows, and a glorious thing called "vacation"

It's taken me longer than expected to put this post up, sorry. (Someone really needs to do something about whatever scientific fluke causes three days out of the office to somehow equal, like, seventeen days' worth of work before you begin to feel caught up again.) In any case, and without further ado, I give you a brief highlights reel from VACATION:


Mountains = not in NYC anymore



Nope, not Brooklyn, either. Not even close.


A million gorgeous miles away, in fact!
(That's Abiquiu Lake)


Travel Companion and I had a fairly singular goal: to escape the dreary February-ness of our respective locales, run away to somewhere entirely different, and be inspired for a few days. Abiquiu, New Mexico--famous for inspiring much of Georgia O'Keefe's artwork--was the exactly what we'd hoped for. (Abiquiu is about 50 miles north of Santa Fe, and about 60 miles west of Taos, which means that both learningtoread and christinetripp had awfully close guesses. I'll be emailing both of you about your promised prizes, and thanks to all who played along and suggested a locale.)


Want to see some more gorgeousness?



They called it a casita, but this "little house" was approx 200 (okay, 5, but still!) times bigger than my apartment!


Mountains in the front yard!! They delighted me all
over again every morning when I woke up & rediscovered them.


Oh this? Just the side view from the casita--starring
the bee-yoo-tiful (if still half-frozen) Chames River.

It's impossible, really, to do a place like this justice in words, so I'll just sum it up in with a Nature count (hey, when you live in a city of concrete like NYC, Nature becomes a delightful novelty) and let you imagine the rest:


Nature Count:
Prairie dogs seen scurrying into holes: 2 (so cute!!)
Stars in the night sky: Approximately a bazillion, all of them gorgeous.
Hours spent staring at stars: Many. (What is it about stars that moves us so deeply?)
Shooting stars seen: 1, and it was oh-so-perfect.
Coyotes heard howling from the mountains at night: Loved 'em, but decided it was better not to know how many there were out there, thanks.
"Cow crossing" warning signs seen: 1 approximately every 1/2 mile, for many, many miles.



Actual cows seen, crossing or otherwise: None. Nada. Zip.
Zombie cow theories resulting from mismatch: 1, fairly half-baked.
Spontaneous side trip that may or may not have been to a local brewery (but that had nothing to do with zombie cow theories, I swear!): 1.
Picture-perfect vacation ending (i.e. rainbow over the mountains as my flight departed): 1. Ain't it gorgeous?




Inner Dixie Chick satisfied: 1, most definitely.
(You know you want to sing along!)





Where should I go the next time I run away from NYC? All suggestions happily accepted in the comments!

Running away (temporarily)

For the next handful of days I will be here, soaking up color of a very different sort than the blah, city-ish gray days that NYC offers this time of year:

All my standard threats about just possibly never-ever coming back from a beautiful place like this hold true. That said, don't have too much fun without me while I'm away, please!

P.S. Bonus points & a fun Advanced Readers Copy prize to the first person in the comments section who properly guesses where I am, city & state, based on that picture. (No fair playing if I've already told you, though!)

California...California!

And...I'm off! To Monterey, CA for the Big Sur Children's Writing Workshop, which is put on by the fab agents of Andrea Brown Literary Agency.


This picture is courtesy of Google, and the words "Monterey, CA," so I'm not sure if it will actually look like this, or if I'll be anywhere this near to the Pacific, but right now, I'm choosing to believe so!

Cross your fingers that I meet some amazing writers with some equally amazing manuscripts this weekend! Oh, and you should probably cross your fingers that I actually decide to come back home to NYC, too, because if it does look like that, well--I make no promises!

Of Coffee and Conversation

Flying back from the North Dakota Writers Conference today, I had a layover in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. I lived in the Twin Cities for a brief but grand summer a number of years ago, and still feel a bit of hometown loyalty to their local chains. In fact, while passing through the airport on my way to North Dakota, I'd already happily grabbed a cup of coffee from Dunn Bros. Coffee during my layover, mentally reminiscing as I drank it about the many hours my then-roommate and I had spent at the Dunn Bros around the corner from her apartment in Loring Park, back in 2001.

This morning, though, there was no Dunn Bros in sight in my terminal, and I was badly in need of caffeine, so I stopped by Caribou Coffee on my way to the gate. As I pulled my wallet out of my bag, the college-age guy at the cash register asked me, "So, where are you headed?"
"Home to New York, " I replied, still half-asleep, but savoring the small thrill it always gives me, even after 7+ years of living here, to claim NYC as my own.
"Cool. Were you traveling for business or pleasure?" he asked.
"Business," I said answered as I opened my wallet, by now a little charmed by this encounter with wide-open midwestern friendliness--the kind that one does not typically find at, say, NYC airport coffee shops.
"What kind of work do you do?" he asked.
"I'm a children's book editor," I replied--another answer that always gives me a small thrill when I get to say it out loud--but not really looking at him at this point, since I was digging through my wallet for the correct change.
There was an extended moment of silence, which I didn't quite notice at first because I sort-of figured the conversation was finished and plus I was busy looking for one more stupid dime, and then the coffee guy said, "THAT is awesome. I ask a lot of people that question, and that's one of the best answers I've ever heard."
I couldn't help giving him a big grin then, and telling him the truth, as I handed over my money. "Thanks," I said. "And yeah...it's my dream job."
"That's awesome, too," he said, handing me my coffee.
And suddenly I wasn't half-asleep anymore, and I wanted to talk to that kid more, to find out what had made him decide to start asking his series of questions to each customer that came his way, and what other jobs he'd considered awesome, and what kind of job he might like to have one day...but there was a line five caffeine-needing people deep behind me, and I had barely enough time left to get to my gate as it was. So instead I let the moment pass and simply said, "Hey, thanks for asking," as I turned away. And while I stirred milk into my coffee at the condiment station, though, I heard him ask the next person, "So where are you heading?...." and I found myself craning to hear the answer, too. And then I walked away with a smile that I found myself holding onto for the next several hours, which is no small thing in an airport these days.

So thanks, anonymous coffee shop barista dude, for taking the time to engage a sleepy traveler in conversation, and for reminding me that yeah, my job *is* awesome, and that I'm really, truly lucky because of that. And even better, thanks for being a reminder of just how engaging and interesting all of life--even early mornings at work!--can be, if you view every person that passes through your corner of the world as someone with a potentially fascinating story to tell you.

File under: Inspiration (see also: Life List)

Last weekend, I checked the following grand items off of my Life's To-See-And-Do List:

1. Taking my first trip (ever!) to Europe--specifically, to Dublin. (Above, the River Liffey, alive with color and light at nightfall.) I don't quite know what took me so long to get to Europe, but it was oh-so-worth the wait.


2. Visiting the Long Room at the Trinity College's Library, where I soaked in some moments of sheer magnificence. Words pretty much fail to adequately describe the sight-smell-feeling of it all, but suffice it to say that I've never been inside a place that wasn't technically a cathedral but felt so cathedral-like, even still--a place that was so alive and so ancient at the same time. If you're a book lover, I highly suggest that you add this experience to your own life's to-do list. *Photo nabbed from the internet, as photography wasn't allowed.




3. Not quite on the Life List, but delightful just the same--I took pictures of a great many fine establishments bearing a certain very good surname!


4. Inexplicably, I also seem to have quite a few photos on my camera that feature pints of Guiness. Curious, that. :)

So there you have it--four facts from my four days in Dublin. (I know, far too short!! But happily, I can still hear the city's music in my ears.) I'm curious now, though--what things to see and do are on your own Life's list--in either the "Already Accomplished" or "Still Yet to Do" categories?

Poetry Friday: "Sea Fever"

My lovely author, Kathryn Fitzmaurice sent me the most beautiful surprise this week: a framed copy of the poem, "Sea Fever." She promised I'd relate to the poem after hearing of my wanting to be back at the ocean pretty much the instant I left it, a few weeks back. (And she's right: I love this poem, especially the line about "the grey mist on the sea's face," because those grey days are some of my favorite moments when near the water. I know, I'm weird that way.).

Kathryn's a California girl, so she completely understands the call of the sea, a fact that's evident in wonderful coastal setting of her novel, The Year the Swallows Came Early (which, if you haven't already read it, well, what are you waiting for? Go right now and buy a copy and consider it a summertime gift to yourself!) So without further ado, and thanks to Kathryn, I give you my poem of the week (with bonus Oregon coast photos):

"Sea-Fever"
by John Masefield

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

An illustrated synopsis of the next few weeks

Dear Friends,

I have

...for writers, that is,
at week-long intensive workshop.
Wish me luck that I discover some great new talent while I'm there!

And then I will be ON VACATION.

Where there will be lots of this:

and a view that, no lie, looks like this:

Right now, I am planning to come back, I think,
but with a view like that, well, one never quite knows for sure!

In the interim, I leave the internets in your capable hands.
However, I'm a classic middle child who hates getting left out of things, so please don't let anything too exciting happen while I'm gone, okay? And if it does, leave a note in the comments to tell me what I missed!