News, Change, and a Tribute of Sorts

I have some news. You probably didn’t see it coming. I didn’t either, exactly. But I perhaps should have, because, as my author Kathryn Fitzmaurice taught me with her oh-so-wonderful middle grade novels, The Year the Swallows Came Early and Destiny, Rewritten, if we stay open and “expect the unexpected,” it allows us to embrace chance encounters that can lead us to, “something wonderful and different that [we] might not have thought of”—in short, toward thrilling new versions of ourselves.

To be honest, I’m not a huge fan of change, but I am slowly learning that with the right attitude and the right decisions, transitions can feel a bit like this: one of Sarah Jane Wright’s perfect illustrations for A Christmas Goodnight—full of a gloriously expectant hopefulness on the horizon.

And horizons make for such vivid imagery, in art and in writing. They just stir something so evocative up in us as readers, you know? Like one of my favorite passages from S. J. Kincaid’s stellar Vortex, the sequel to Insignia, where, “Everything Tom had ever feared seemed to shrink for this instant as the universe expanded for him. He wished every single person on the planet could have this chance, just once, to see the horizon from above rather than from below. Maybe they’d all see that the universe didn’t end…but rather that this incredible, infinite stretch of possibilities existed beyond them.”

And speaking of horizons and possibilities—when I asked a long-time friend what he thought about the new possibility that had appeared on my horizon, he listened patiently to my lengthy pro/con list and then said simply, “It depends. How willing are you to take a risk?” And right there and then, I pretty much knew what my choice would be, because Divergent and Tris and the remarkable Veronica Roth taught me that sometimes we simply have to “be brave” and jump, even if that means changing everything. Especially if that means changing everything. 

Bryan Bliss professes something similar, in what I hope will be one of your favorite new YA books of next summer, his superb 2014 debut, Meet Me Here—that sometimes you have to do the thing that scares you the most, and then embrace the transformation that follows, “In that moment, when your heart is ready to break out of your chest and you can barely breathe, that’s when you get a chance to live.”

“Strange but true,” (that’s the favorite observation/declaration of the protagonist of Molly B. Burnham’s hilarious and heart-warming illustrated middle grade debut (due out in 2015), Teddy Mars: Almost a World Record Breaker), you’re probably sensing a common theme to this blog post.

So what’s the big change? It’s that I’m leaving HarperCollins, after an incredible seven and a half years. I’m taking a side-step into a slightly different realm and heading over to Storybird, a visual storytelling platform, where I’ll be their Head of Editorial, focusing on creative strategy and product/program development. It’s a chance to use many of the skill sets that I’ve cultivated over the past decade in publishing, while also learning to think in exciting new ways about how technology, stories, and culture can intersect. And I’ll be working with an amazing and innovative team, which makes leaving my great HarperCollins colleagues a little less painful.

 

In Hilary T. Smith’s utterly gorgeous Wild Awake, the main character concludes that, “The universe, I realize, is full of little torches. Sometimes, for some reason, it’s your turn to carry one out of the fire—because the world needs it.” In a way, I hope that’s what I’ll be doing as I make this transition: carrying a torch from the world of publishing that I’ve known and loved into a new venture that’s full of excitement and possibility. Along the way, I’ll hopefully be uncovering new paths for story-makers and story-lovers and stories to connect and find each other. Because I am convinced that stories are one of the things we need most, as human beings in this world.  

As Bobbie Pyron wrote in her pitch-perfect, southern-tinged “new classic,” A Dog’s Way Home, “Most folks got a north star in their life—something that gives their life extra meaning.” I think for a lot of us who share this corner of the internet, one of our north stars is stories—because of the way they allow us to express ourselves and understand others, because of the way they connect people, because of the way they help us learn to live.

To all of you who have entrusted your words and art and stories to me, at conferences and via literary agents and even just through the simple tales we tell each other every day via Facebook and Twitter . . . thank you. To those of you (teachers, librarians, booksellers, parents, book bloggers, publishing industry pals, friends in the media, and fellow book-lovers of all sorts) who have worked to connect my authors/illustrators and their books to Real! Live! Readers!—I am intensely, endlessly grateful. And most of all, to the many authors and illustrators that I’ve worked with while at Harper, most especially those mentioned above—thank you for all you have taught me, and the ways you’ve inspired me as we’ve worked together. I will always consider myself lucky to have been one of the earliest fans of your books, and to have had the incredible privilege of watching your stories transform and take shape and then courageously go out into the world to find their readers.

And to everyone reading this: I hope you’ll all keep an eye on things over at Storybird. It’s going to be a thrill, and a lot of fun, and I’d love for you to come and be a part of it. 

TEN YEARS.

Ten years—a decade!—ago today, I started my first full-time job in publishing.

Wow. 

A tremendous amount has changed since then, but the heart of this business endures steadily the same beneath it all, and for that I am truly grateful. I suspect that we all—editors, writers, illustrators, agents, marketers, publicists, educators, booksellers, librarians and so many others in this business—choose to do the work we do because we ourselves have lived lives shaped by stories. Because once upon a time, each one of us was a child mesmerized by picture books, or a kid magicked away on summer afternoons by wonder and possibility, or a teen who found solace or solidarity in fictional characters . . . so we know how much stories can and do and must continue to matter.

Some of the best friends and influences in my life have been books, or because of books. And for the past ten years, many of the most meaningful people in my daily world have been the people who make books. So thanks to all of you: you brilliant, insightful, dedicated, witty, wonderfully firey-minded people, for being an inspiration every single day.

Here's to many more decades of creating and sharing stories, friends.

INSURGENT: An Editorial Love Story



From this....
(that's about one-third of the rounds of editorial & production passes of INSURGENT, FYI.)


Sometimes, less is more. So this post will be short, but deeply-felt (yep, my faction would be Candor).

It is an incredible thing to watch a book take wings and find resonance with so many readers, as DIVERGENT has done.

It is an incredible thing to watch readers waiting with such enthusiasm for a book, and to know what awaits them (being an editor has its perks!), and to be so, so excited for the moment when readers and the story get to connect again.

And it is an incredible thing when an author outdoes herself and creates a sequel like INSURGENT, one that is even more compelling, even more powerfully written, than its predecessor.

Veronica Roth, you continue to amaze us all with this story. Thank you so much for creating it. Today (and every day), I am a lucky editor, and we are all lucky readers

...TO THIS!

Happy reading, friends!

So it's 2012

...and my blog has been sorely neglected! (For excuses, I offer you a bout of bronchitis-turned-to-near-pneumonia that took me down for most of November and December; NCTE; Thanksgiving and Christmas travel; general holiday madness; and an enormous pile of submissions that only gets larger, no matter how much reading I do.) So sorry, dear friends. Mostly, I have been busy, busy, busy making books. But I've been writing lots of blog posts in my head of late, so I hope to share some of those with you very soon.

But in the meanwhile, here are a few assorted (and some much-belated) tidbits from this editor's life to catch you up to date.

1. I bought two amazing books from The Intern, and cannot wait to introduce her incredible voice to the YA world! Here's the "official" write-up from Publishers Weekly, or you can hear more about it on her blog.

In a two-book pre-empt, Molly O’Neill at HarperCollins’s Katherine Tegen Books bought North American rights to Hilary Smith’s YA debut, Midnight at the Radio Temple. Laura Rennert at the Andrea Brown Literary Agency said the novel, which is scheduled for summer 2013, is a coming-of-age story about a teenage musician who uncovers shocking family secrets during “an unforgettable summer of love and chaos, music and madness.” Smith was behind the formerly anonymous publishing blog, The Intern (www.internspills.blogspot.com), in which she chronicled toiling away as an unpaid laborer in the editorial department at a nameless publishing house; the blog became something of an industry phenomenon in 2009, drawing, at its height, 10,000 visits per month.

2. The exceedingly lovely readers of Goodreads chose Veronica Roth's DIVERGENT as their favorite book of the year, the top award in the annual Goodreads Choice Awards. Cue a beaming editor. (Speaking of DIVERGENT, did you know it's only 95 days till INSURGENT comes out?)

3. I have some amazing books coming out in 2012, and I'm working on some fantastic projects for 2013 right now, too. I'll tell you about them in due course (i.e., I won't torture you too much by telling you about things you can't read yet), but in the meanwhile, I've just got to say that my authors and illustrators are some of the hardest-working and most brilliant and talented people I know.

4. My beloved alma mater Marquette University just did a career profile on me in their alumni magazine, which makes me feel ridiculously grown-up and reminds me just how lucky I am to have my dream job. If you'd like, you can read it here.

5. I'm thinking about starting a (semi-) regular blog series higlighting books about the craft of writing. I get asked for recommendations a lot at writers' conferences and thought it might make good blog fodder. Would that be of interest? Shout-out in the comments if so. 

Okay, more soon, I pinky-swear! And until then, you can find me on a much more regular basis on Twitter.

A CHRISTMAS GOODNIGHT: An Editorial Love Story

Merry Christmas in September!
Today's the book birthday for A Christmas Goodnight!

Once upon a time, an author named Nola Buck wrote the text for a new Christmas picture book. It was so perfect that HarperCollins bought it right up, and then patiently waited to find the perfect illustrator to bring its warmth and wonder to life.

Once upon a time, an artist named Sarah Jane Wright had a dream, and a goal, and she was determined to get there.

And once upon a time, a newly-minted assistant editor (read: Yours Truly) told her then-boss that she thought perhaps there was lots of undiscovered illustrator talent to be found on a new-ish crafting website called Etsy. That boss had never heard of Etsy--it was only two years old back then, and it wasn't very well known yet--but she was a big fan of discovering talent in non-traditional places, so she was encouraging about the possibility. So the young editor spent lots of time paging through artwork on Etsy (and okay, if we're being totally honest here, also a fair bit of time getting distracted by pretty earrings in the process), but there was one artist whose work she kept coming back to, over and over, because it was clear that there were stories inside of the artwork, waiting to come alive. So one day in the fall of 2007, she sent that artist a note, asking if she'd ever thought about illustrating children's books. Happily, the artist replied that Yes! She had always wanted to illustrate children's books! A lot of emails followed. A lot of learning and growing happened, on both sides of the desk. Nearly two full years later, this delightful moment happened. And then, after a lot of work, this one. And then, finally, nearly four years to the day after that first email, today, finally, this moment arrived, full of joy, and thanks to all of you for sharing in it by reading this post. And kids' books aficionados, Sarah Jane Wright is an illustrator whose name you should remember, because she's just getting started, and our industry is lucky to have her in it! Each time Sarah Jane and I talk, she inspires me: with her strong sense of balance, with the faith and vision that guide her work and her growing, worldwide brand, and with the abiding joy she finds in the acts of creativity, mothering, and meaningful daily living--check out her blog and I know you'll enjoy "meeting" her, too.  

I could look at this illustration for hours and still not stop smiling!

(An important aside, especially to the still-aspiring: sometimes creative success stories tend to make it sound like everything happens magically, and overnight. It usually doesn't, as I think that the years between Sarah Jane's "discovery" and contract and now-finished book evidence: talent is most often simply a place of beginning, not an end unto itself.)

Adding Sarah Jane's debut artistic talent to a pitch-perfect text written by veteran author Nola Buck was a perfect bookmaking match, and that sort of established + beginner pairing is a long-standing practice in the children's book industry. From a marketing point of view, matching up a veteran and a newbie makes perfect sense: it brings an automatic audience to the beginner, since there are readers who will automatically seek out the established creator's next project, and, hopefully, it brings a new flair or style or dimension to the veteran's work, adding yet another layer to the appreciation that readers have for it. And one of the amazingly wonderful things about the kids' book world is how collaborative it is, and the way that nearly every author and illustrator, no matter how lauded, still remembers what it felt like to be just starting, and genuinely wants to help others succeed, so it's often the start of a friendship and sometimes a long-standing creative pairing, too.

For those of you who find publishing trivia interesting, Nola Buck is the pen name for long-time children's book editor Laura Godwin. (She also sometimes writes under her own name, too.) It's been both humbling and exciting to go through the bookmaking process alongside an author who has, herself, edited so many fantastic books into being. But before she ever wrote the text for A Christmas Goodnight, Laura/Nola was already the author of another perennial Christmas classic, Christmas in the Manger, a book that introduces the characters of the Nativity story in the simplest of ways, for the very youngest readers. Her text for A Christmas Goodnight is wonderful because it reintroduces the Christmas story for a slightly older reader (especially one who read/listened to Christmas in the Manger in previous years, but is now ready for a more advanced understanding of the holiday). The story has a wonderful circularity to it that you'll see reflected in Sarah's illustrations: it melds the familiar Nativity story with the holiday celebrations of a contemporary family, helping young readers see the connections between the long-ago Christmas story and their own lives. And it's such a sweet, memorable text (without being at all saccharine, which is a hard balance to achieve!) that for the past few years, I've found myself reciting it in my head all through the holiday season--over and over and over, which I think is perhaps one of the highest compliments I could pay to an author.

There's something about a picture book that makes the publishing process seem all the more profound and miraculous, maybe because picture books are the very first encounter that some readers will ever have with books and stories. Seeing this story emerge from the fingertips and keyboards and colored pencils of Laura and Sarah has been a treasure. In fact, it's hard to say which story I love more: the story-behind-the-story of this book's making, or the book itself! And I admit that I'm biased when I say that I think they've created a perfect  book that's just waiting to become a part of many families' holiday traditions, year after year, but hey--Publishers Weekly agrees! So if you're looking for a special Christmas gift to share with family and friends come December, put A Christmas Goodnight on your list to check out at your library or buy at your local bookstore. I think you'll find that it's the perfect holiday goodnight book for reading and sharing with those you love. (And don't worry, I'll remind you again when the holidays get closer, when there will be lots more Christmas Goodnight fun happening at Sarah's blog!)

Goodnight, goodnight to all!



Magic moments & Christmas in August!

There are certain moments of sheer magic in book-making. One of my all-time favorite ones is when the very first printed copy of a newly-finished book shows up at my desk. It's pretty much a given that whenever this happens, I'll lose more than a few minutes to pouring over it, and petting it, and most of all, parading it around to colleagues while exclaiming over and over, "Look! Look! It's a real book!" (And oh, world of e-books, you are fascinating in many ways, but I can't imagine you'll ever have a moment that will quite measure up to this hands-on experience!)

There's a lot of editorial delight and pride at seeing the hard work of my authors and illustrators all added up—from the very earliest rough drafts and sketches, to knowing well the months and years' worth of revisions that followed—and finally transformed into the tangible reality. But I suspect that my delight can't even begin to compare to an even more magical moment: when the author or illustrator gets to see their very first copy of their book.

Since I haven't yet figured out how to be a fly on the wall when those packages arrive to the homes of my far-flung authors and artists, though, the power of the internet gives us the next best thing.Wanna live the magic vicariously? Then check out this delightful post from debut illustrator Sarah Jane Wright. And definitely take the extra minute to watch the short video clip of Sarah sharing her very first book with her kids for the very first time—it will leave you smiling all day! Not only does that video capture a once-in-a-career moment for this illustrator, it's a wonderful insight into how little people see and experience stories. Watching books be loved by young readers—that's the most magical moment of all!

Yes.

This.

That is all.

These are the days to remember*

Today I found this short film (via my pal Storybird), and really, you must stop everything and watch it. It's four minutes and three seconds of pure wonderfulness. Or, as you might also care to see it, it's essentially the heart of many a contemporary YA novel, in under five minutes.


YOUTH from Tommy Petroni on Vimeo.

Sometimes I get reflective, as writerly (and editorly!) types do, and I start poking through my life, looking for connections, because connectivity is a theme that matters a lot to me. And sometimes, like with this video, I just stumble upon the connection, unexpectedly and all in a lovely flash.

As I think I've occasionally mentioned on this blog, before I was an editor, I was a youth minister who worked with teens all across the U.S. and Canada. It was a very different life than the one I have now, but the core is surprisingly the same. And that's a truth I realize again and again, as I uncover the elements that bridge the two: Like building relationships. And helping others to grow and believe. And searching out the heart of what matters. And watching people transform because of the possibilities that they've opened themselves up to. And offering and sharing in no-holds-barred honesty. And most of all, at the core of both are the moments of becoming, like those captured in this video--the moments that are both ordinary and wondrous, the incredible friendships (and betrayals) that shape us, the memories and choices that become indelible part of who we are. Because being a teenager is one of the most powerful, profound, epic, meaningful experiences we'll ever have, as human beings.

I loved working with teens. And I love creating books for them now. Watching this video helps me to remember that: though it's writers and artists and agents and other grown-up publishing folk that I work with most closely now, it's still the readers, the teens and tweens and wee little kiddos, that I'm truly doing it for. The days when we can all remember that--that the books and stories we create are for them, most of all--those are the days when I think we can call this industry its most successful. And I'm so proud and lucky to be a part of it.

Thanks, sixteen-year-old Tommy Petroni, for reminding me.

*Yes, that line, and everything else about this post, also reminds me of this song, which was totally a part of the soundtrack to my own teen years. Anyone else make the mental link between the two?

Eight Years In, And Still In Love

(Warning: annual sappy post ahead!)

When I was growing up, my Dad gave me the same piece of career advice over and over: "Find something you love to do, because you're going to spend a lot of time doing it." (Fun aside: during my first year as an assistant in publishing, as he helped me over the phone with doing my taxes, I reminded my Dad of this comment. His response: "Well, I sure hope you love it, because you're not making any money!" Oh, publishing....) His advice was so very right, though. Life's incredibly fulfilling if you're doing something that you believe in, that you love.

Eight years ago, I started my first job as a Marketing/Publicity Assistant at Clarion Books, which I talked about here, this time last year. A lot's changed in those eight years, even though it's not really all that long ago at all! Somewhere in the eight years, I moved over to HarperCollins, and I was also finally able to make the shift from marketing/publicity into editing, which was so very worth all the scrambling and persistence and backtracking and side-stepping it took to get there. But beyond that, back when I started, publishing's landscape looked pretty different: there were hardly any blogs, there was no Facebook, no Twitter, and even author/illustrator  websites were a relatively new phenomenon. There wasn't daily talk of e-books, or e-readers, or digital publishing efforts, either. 

As we all are, eight years later, I'm currently watching this industry re-invent itself from the inside-out, and I suspect it won't be the last time I do so in my career. But the thing that mattered most to me when I started that job eight years ago is the same thing that matters most to me today: there were books, incredible ones. (And I got to work on them! And they paid me to do it!) And there were stories, as there always have been and always will be. And there was a long-standing community: a brilliant, welcoming, intensely passionate and intelligent community of authors and illustrators and librarians and literary agents and educators and booksellers and publishing folk and readers. Eight years later, I find so much inspiration and meaning in being a part of that community, and in this Dream Job of mine, which is so much about connections, about passions, about ideas, about children and teens and the books that shape them--and that shape all of us, too, as we go about making them.

This eighth year in publishing is an especially important one for me, because it's the first year in which books that I acquired as an editor (rather than ones that I assisted another, more senior-level editor on, or that I marketed/publicized, back in my previous role) will begin hitting the shelves. In months to come, as their publication dates approach, I'll be sharing some stories of acquiring those books, and of working with their tremendously talented creators--"editorial love stories," if you will, and I hope as readers, many of you will be as enchanted and thrilled and moved by reading those books as I've been during their making.

For now, though, I'm just quietly, abundantly grateful. This business of making books for young readers is one that I believe in with my whole heart, and I'm constantly proud and humbled to be a part of it. Thanks to all of you, who are part of it, too.

Your central story; My central story

A few posts back on this blog, you heard me talk about #reverb10, an annual, month-long online reflection project. Here's a bit more about it, from the website:

Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. With Reverb 10 - and the 31 prompts our authors have created for you - you'll have support on your journey.You can commit and start at any time and respond to the prompts in any way you wish - this project is designed for you to discover what needs discovering, however's best for you.

The organizers asked me to contribute one of the month's reflection prompts, and today my prompt goes live for several thousand bloggers and writers to consider. Even if you didn't participate in #reverb10, I think it's a pretty fascinating question to ponder in general, and I welcome your thoughts and responses in the comments section.

December 31 – Core Story. What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world? (Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.)

Here is what you must know about me: I believe in stories.

I believe they have the power to shape us, to change us, to heal us, to teach us, to connect us. And more.

 There are other things that I believe in powerfully and passionately, too--the capacity for faith is a gift that has been alive in me my whole life, manifesting itself differently as I've grown and come to understand it more. (And it took a number of years for me to fully grasp that the things I believe in most won't always resonate or matter in the same way to others, and that that's okay.) But when I attempt to boil everything down to its simplest, most uncomplicated form, over and over, I come back to stories. Stories are universal. Stories are at the core of everything. Stories matter because they help us catalog and clarify our lives and experiences. Stories matter because we matter: I believe stories teach us how to be human--and how to be better humans, more fully human, even. And really, what is more important than that?

 

It's rare that a week goes by when I don't tell someone (sometimes shyly, sometimes bursting with pride) that I have my dream job. Because as an editor of children's and young adult books, I work with others who believe as I do, that stories matter enormously--and that they matter first and perhaps most, when we are becoming: when we are small children, and then bigger children; and when we are in the awkward stage between being children and being teenagers; and when we are teenagers, and then bigger teenagers; and even when we are in the awkward stage between being teenagers and being adults. In all of those phases, we are becoming the sort of humans we will be, at our core, for the rest of always. And if the stories that I help nurture and produce can ultimately interject more compassion, more hope, more truth into the core of many (or even a few) human beings--then I have more than "a dream job," I have an immensely privileged life.

But the sharing of stories belongs to everyone. And the truth is, we are always becoming, and not only as children or young adults. Because we all need to tell our stories, and we all need to hear stories, too. The stories change, we change--but the need for stories, for narratives by which to guide and inspire and challenge one another, I think that's a constant. Or at least it is for me.

I didn't participate in #reverb10 as much as I intended to this past month.Well...no. Correction. I didn't blog or tweet public responses to the posts as much as I intended to. I pondered each prompt, mulling some over for days internally, discussing others with friends in-person. Most of all, though, I found myself wanting to speak/write less and listen more. And I think that's okay, that there are times to speak and times to be silent and both build us--and our own stories--up in different ways. Here is what I did more than I expected to this past month, though: I kept an open search on the #reverb10 hashtag all month long and clicked link after link after link each day, reading the open-hearted sharing of so many strangers. And I'm more human because of each link, because of those stories. I hope you are, too.

Stories connect us in remarkable ways; the internet connects us in remarkable ways, too. And so perhaps it's no wonder that #reverb10 was powerful for its participants: it did something exponential within and among its participants. And I'm the polar opposite of a math whiz, but if I recall, the mathematical meaning of exponents is that you raise one element to the power of another element. And so...I suspect that stories raised to the power of connectivity equal community, whether fleeting or permanent. And stories raised to the power of connectivity create, or at least help to uncover, meaning. Stories raised to the power of connectivity reveal something beautifully elemental, a sense of ourselves in relationship to the world and its people around us.

The creation and sharing of stories: Something so simple becomes exponential in the most mind-boggling of ways, so quickly: simply by living, the possibility opens up for stories, and for the resulting recognition and discovery and connectivity and potential and inspiration and power. And in examining stories, we discover ourselves, we discover our humanity, and the depths are endless. How amazing. How beautiful.

This, then, is the central story at the core of me: I believe in stories. I believe in them with all my heart. And I will never stop wanting to hear more of them.

CONTEST!!!, Or, Janet Reid is Sneaky and You Stand to Benefit.

If you've met me at a publishing event in the last 15 months or so, or if you follow me on Twitter, or if you're my friend on Facebook, you've probably heard me talking about this book, YOU, the debut YA from Charles Benoit.

YOU is without a doubt one of the most important books I'll have a part in bringing to life in my entire career, no matter how long that career turns out to be. There aren't enough adjectives to describe how masterfully crafted Charles Benoit's story is, and how excited we are that he's found his way from the adult mystery world into writing YA. And working beside my amazing boss on YOU has been a phenomenal experience--15 months after our first reads of it, we're still unable to stop ourselves from talking about it near-constantly. Most of all, the support of the children's/YA writing world for this new-to-our-world author and his story has been inmmensely humbling. The ARC, in fact, looks like this:

It's gotten more early praise than we could even fit on the cover! As we like to say, "People are talking about YOU." (And yes, you really should click each of those links to read the fantastic reviews and conversations that are starting about this book.)

So why am I showing you the ARC? Because you have a chance to win it. Head over to Agent Janet Reid's blog, where she's doing the Robin Hood thing of snitching ARCs and giving them to the masses, ergo YOU stand to benefit. But hurry! The contest ends at high noon on Sunday.

And then on August 24th (a mere 96 days from now!) get yourself to a bookstore and buy this astonishing book (or, you know, go pre-order it right now in anticipation), and read it and share it with everyone you know who works with teens, or is a teen, or has ever been a teen. And then you, too, will be one of the many people talking about YOU.

Why I Work in Publishing (in brief)

There are a million reasons I could tell you. Catch me in person some time, in fact, and you'll be hard-pressed to avoid me telling you some of them, probably whether you've even asked or not! ;) In fact, maybe "Why I Work in Publishing" should become a regular feature on this blog.

But for now, as the simplest answer to that question, I'll point to this. Reviews like this--heartfelt responses from readers like this--are why I work in publishing, and specifically, why I work in children's/YA books. Because I get to help make books that carry this much power, for readers of every age. Because stories become a part of us and stay with us forever and shape the person we become in the world and the mark we choose to leave on it. Because the things a writer has to say, and the words s/he crafts, can become black marks on white paper (or the technological equivalent thereof) that just might make someone else want to become a better person. And I get to help make all of that happen.

Does there need to be any other reason?