Inspiration of the day/week/month/year

So, you guys remember how we've been talking about middle graders, and their sense of wonder, and possibility? Yeah, all that. Captured right here, in one of the best 10-minute films you'll see all year:

   

(via Boing-Boing)

The best of friends

Today is my best friend's birthday. We've been best friends since the first grade, as evidenced by our inseparability in this first grade class photo. (Awww!)

(Note the properly-folded hands. We were *very* well-behaved first graders.)

In her honor, I thought I'd do a salute to books about best-friendship. In no particular order, and just off the top of my head, here are a few wonderful tributes to friendship--and to the ways friends love us at our best and worst, and help us grow, and change, and become, and learn to recognize our truest selves.

Toot and Puddle *** Gossie and Gertie *** Best Friends for Frances

Charlotte's Web *** Anne of Green Gables *** A Little Princess *** Bridge to Terabithia

Say Goodnight, Gracie *** Sweethearts *** Before I Fall

But I'm sure I'm missing about a million stories that belong on this list! So you tell me: what are some of your favorite books about friendship?

"Every waking hour I'm / reading my submissions"

From the Department of Randomly Weird Things That Sometimes Pop Into My Head For No Good Reason: a remix.

Agents, writers, this earworm's dedicated to you (with love, I promise)!

"That's me in the corner;

That's me on the subway, I'm

Here with my e-reader--

Trying to Keep. Up. With you.

And I don't know if I can do it.

Oh no, I've read too much;

I haven't read enough...."

(If you miss me, I promise I'm not dead. Just busy reading-reading-reading. And editing. And y'know, reading some more.)

*Alternate, amusingly-publishing-appropriate (& entirely unadulturated) lyrics from the original that were runners-up possibilities for the title of this post: "That was just a dream / Just a dream, just a dream," "What if all these fantasies / Come flailing around," and "Consider this."

P.S. Just for kicks, how about a live version?

Because sometimes a photo really is worth a thousand words

...even if the photo is blurry because of pouring rain and bad angles and late night darkness.

(Explanation: this is how the Circus Elephants arrive in NYC and travel from the Midtown Tunnel into Madison Square Garden every year. They march down 34th Street at midnight. More (and better!) photos here.



P.S. I heart NY.

Editor is manuscript as Butcher is to...cow?

Some of you may recall that I have a pretty awesome doppelganger: "the other Molly O'Neill" is a former NY Times food editor, the author of her own cookbooks and a memoir, a food writer extraordinaire, a great public speaker (as I discovered last year), and the sister of a former NY Yankee.

I have a Google alert set on "our" name. Sometimes it brings me news of myself, but more often, it brings me news of my doppelganger (or occasionally, of another Molly O'Neill, who works for the Environmental Protection Agency, but I'm pretty sure that food writer Molly O'Neill and I have the cooler jobs of the three of us). In any case, today, my google alert brought me this quote from "the other Molly O'Neill," from a 1998 article entitled "The Late, Great, Fine Art of Butchering."

"The intensive training of long apprenticeships (up to 10 years) is still the best way to become an expert or, as butchers call one other, a ''master.'' Masters have the expertise, for example, to distinguish the texture, fat content and freshness of any cut of meat just by touching it. In times past, a butcher became a master when another master recognized his skill."

And I'm struck by this quote because, hmmm, that process sounds terribly familiar. Editing is without question an apprenticeship career of much the same ilk, where you learn so much at the hands of the master editors who are your bosses--though happily, it's (usually!) a decidedly less bloody career. (I know, I know, it's almost impossible to resist all the editor/butchering jokes, isn't it? Even for me!) Truth be told, of course, I'm not sure I know a single editor who would ever quite feel comfortable declaring that they'd graduated to "master editor," but they'd be proud to tell you about a few of the master writers they'd found along the way! That said, if, ten years from now I could have the expertise to distinguish what a manuscript would be like, merely by touching it, how great would THAT be?

All in all, it's a fascinating--if unexpected--comparison to ponder. Hurrah for random Google alerts!

You Tell Me: What's Your Anthem?

Anyone who follows me on Twitter or Facebook (or who knows me in real life) has probably already gotten a dose of my mad love for this first season of GLEE. Glee takes me back to my own high school theater club memories and a point in time when belting out the lyrics of showtunes--whether from the stage, or backstage, or up-and-down the hallways after school, or in a car with my friends, or at home in front of my mirror--seemed like the perfect solution to every moment of high school drama. Thinking about it with just a little emotional distance now, I suppose the best explanation I can give is that musicals are all about highs and lows, about the moments when the intensity of life is so far beyond mere words that one must simply burst into song to come anywhere close to expressing it. In short, they're the perfect match for the utter and ongoing angst of high school/teen life! :)

I started thinking about all this over the last few days, not long after I downloaded the Glee soundtrack. With apologies to my neighbors, I've listened to the duet of "Defying Gravity" approximately 67 times and counting since last Thursday, my flimsy excuse for that aural behavior being that I never really had a "Wicked" phase, since it came out a good number of years after my own High School Musical experience had passed. On my walk home from the subway last night, listening to it yet again on my ipod (have I mentioned I have a wee tendency to wear out new songs once I get attached to them?) I started thinking about that high school self of mine. Would Molly-in-high-school have liked "Defying Gravity"? Well, yes, of course--up to a point. It's undeniably a great emotional turning point/defining moment kind of song. It gives a nice bounce to your step, makes you stand up a little straighter, a little stronger, a little bolder, makes you eager to belt out those lyrics whether or not you're actually capable of belting all that very well or not--in short, it's kinda the vocal definition of an anthem. But would Molly-in-high-school have loved the song to the point of inhabiting it, of declaring to the world that it, like, totally defined her? As much as my current iTunes play count might hint otherwise now, I think the truth is no--it's a terribly upbeat song, after all, and, truth be told, at 15 and 16, I liked my anthems far more heartrending and melodramatic and tragic ("On My Own," anyone? Or "Someone Else's Story" ?).

Of course, pondering any topic too deeply tends to eventually lead me back in one direction--to books and writing, and Glee and its soundtrack is no exception. It's not a new trend for writers to talk about the playlists they create as they write their novels--the music they feel captures the moods and world of their story. I'm curious, though--if asked directly, what would your book's main character (ooh! or your book's antagonist!) tell you is the song (and it doesn't have to be musical-theatre inspired, of course) that's his or her anthem, that one song that defines the world as she/he sees it, or defines the very core of him/herself? The song that she or he would put on repeat over and over and over when they're feeling lost or alone, or trying to pump up him or herself or a big moment? What song makes your character feel like the songwriter practically crawled inside his or her brain (or heart) and somehow managed to express everything that was in it?

As ever, I love to peek inside writerly brains, so if you're game, tell us in the comments comments about what your main character's (or other characters') anthems would be. And just for kicks, I'd definitely love to hear what your own anthem was when you were in high school, too.

(P.S. Also? If you're a writer who's got a Glee-like manuscript--for the love of Lerner & Lowe, please have your agent send it my way!)

Phantom of the New Moon: A Reprise of Sorts

In honor of tonight's New Moon movie premiere, I'd like to take this moment to reprise what remains perhaps the most brilliant and insightful blog post I've ever written (housed on what was formerly the Bowen Press editorial team blog; now the blog of Brenda Bowen, literary agent extraordinaire).

Enjoy!

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.

Update: New Office, No Brain

Those of you following along at home know that HarperChildren's moved offices this week. So you'll have to pardon the lack of enthralling posts for a bit longer, please--because I'm still trying to figure out which one of these boxes I packed my brain into!* Those of you with brains firmly in place, however, should take this moment to hop over to the Waxman Literary Agency blog, and soak up the wisdom and good humor of my pal Holly Root, who is offering some smart, well-reasoned, and well-explained thoughts about career planning for writers.

*Y'know, it's just occurred to me that for being a children's book publisher, we sure are sadly lacking in the area of elves, (either of The Elves and the Shoemaker variety or the Harry Potter House Elf variety) sprites, fairies, and other magical critters who would be really helpful when it comes to unpacking and organizing. Points to anyone who can locate some for us.

Sorry about the lack of posts

Apologies, friends: the blog is suffering from boring non-update-ness while we're all simultaneously trying to do everyday work AND prep for a quick-approaching office move. In the meanwhile, to distract you, I give you this wee gift. If you are a writer and on Facebook, then it will probably make you laugh very, very hard.

Of birthdays, chocolate innards, & My New Intern

Last week, I had a birthday. And thanks to that birthday, I now have proof that my editorial colleagues at Katherine Tegen Books are some of the most AWESOME-TASTIC CREATIVE GENIUSES a girl could ever hope to work with. Because what did they present me with?

This guy!

That's right, an office piñata!!

Best. Office. Gift. Ever!!!
I'm not sure words can express just how much office-wide delight this led to on a mid-week afternoon, so why I don't I show you?

First, the pinata spent a quiet moment, preparing for his piñata Destiny:

Pinata Destiñy, in case you were wondering, looks a bit like this:

It also looks like this:



And this:



And something like this:



And, finally, of course, it looks like this:



Those of you who like happy endings to stories will be glad to know that aside from a now-wobbly waistline, the piñata came through his ordeal fairly intact, all things considered (perhaps he should be glad his Destiny involved a mailing tube and not a baseball bat?)

He has now taken up residence in my office, where I'm thinking that his courage in the face of danger has earned him the title of My New Intern. I mean, after staring down a roomful of people bent on his demise, I'm thinking that filing and tackling my stacks of submissions should seem quite tame in comparison, right?