Finding secrets in the Shadows of Greatness

Last night I was (for once) in charge of the television remote. While flipping channels, I came across the Hallmark movie "Homecoming", starring the late Ann Bancroft.

The screenplay was based on a best-selling mid-grade novel of the same title. The first of seven in the "Tillerman" series, by Cynthia Voigt. Having read the book twice in my search to understand the makings of award winning mid-grades, I immediately dropped the remote.

I'm sure Ms. Bancroft wasn't aware that it would be her last film, but she certainly gave it her all. In my humble opinion, her portrayal of Abigail Tillerman,"Gram", was so right on the money, that I found myself hanging on every word. Maybe it was partly because, to my amazement, the script was almost word-for-word in keeping with Voigt's novel. To me, this was a true testimonial to the power of a well written, tightly worded novel.

Writing rules; Make each word count, propelling the story forward.

In fact, Cynthia Voigt does more than write a tight novel. She keeps her readers feelings and reactions in mind as well. I found that in the second Tillerman novel, "Dicey's Song", Ms. Voigt gives many of her sentences double meanings. Each sentence works every word, in order to eek out as much emotion and complexity from her characters as possible. Sometimes, it's what her characters DON'T say, that makes us understand them better. That in itself is amazing. It's no wonder "Dicey's Song" earned a Newbery medal, and an honored spot on my bookshelf.

I'm sure that Cynthia Voigt, Frances O'Roark Dowell(Dovey Coe), Madeleine L'Engle(A Wrinkle in Time), and others will influence the final outcome for my current mid-grade work-in-progress, "Hasty Liberty". I have learned so much from them, and the many other Newbery winners I've been devouring in the past few years. I hope that in some small way, I can do them all justice. If I turn out a well written novel, I'll have them to thank, as well as you.

"Who we are is the combination of every place we've been, every experience we've had, and every person who has reached out and touched our lives."

"Little Things" = Evolution

It's amazing how every little thing you do counts. You may not know it at the time, but it always comes back around. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it smacks you upside the head. But it always returns, every little thing.

I'm becoming more aware of this fact every day. I find myself chosing my words more carefully. They don't come flying out of my mouth anymore, like they did when I was sure I knew everything. Now,I come prepared.

I suddenly understand why mom always had to know what was happening in advance. She had to get ready, so as not to embarrass herself by saying or doing some little thing that would ultimately come back to haunt her. Mom, if you're listening, I get it now.

Last week I opened a new shop on-line,(www.whimsicalscribbles.etsy.com)in order to sell some of my art. I had to use all my accumulated "smarts" to figure it out. As I typed in the opening statement, the product descriptions, the shop policies, etc., it occured to me how the little things in my past had prepared me for the moment. Not that what I wrote was brilliant or anything, it was just easy. I remembered a time when that sort of thing would have scared me half to death. I found out about the site from a new student who attends the weekly art class I teach voluntarily for community seniors. It's just a little thing.

This week I became one of the new illustrators on www.best-childrens-books.com. I'd had to apply by preparing a personal profile, which included relative experience, explaining my creative style, medium proficiency, collaborative skills, contract preferences, etc. Unexpectedly, it was a piece of cake. Interestingly, the site moderator came back with, "Nice job! (Now could you teach the other
illustrators how to write?). It's good to have you on the site." I wouldn't have even known about the site, or recieved that pat on the back, if it hadn't been for a little thing I'd done for a friend, without expecting anything to come of it.

My friend Nancy took the time to remind me to come out and play. It's such a little thing, but it means so much when someone cares enough to let you know you are missed.

Every "little thing" you do comes back to you. I've discovered that even when it seems bad, you learn something from it. Something that will carry you forward, somewhere down the road towards your evolution.

My adopted sister recently beckoned me, "Come out every once in a while, the world needs a glimpse." I can always count on her to pull me from the shadows, back out into the warmth of the sun.

I've been feeling like a panda lately, a bit shy and reclusive. It's easier than jumping back in with both feet and reclaiming my space in the woods.

But as I write this, I realize that she's right. If I don't stand up and make my presence known, I too may have to face extinction. The truth of the matter is, you can't sit on the edge of the bamboo forest in this business. You can't consume everything around you, faithfully knowing that the supply will be replenished, and life will continue to carry you forward.

The publishing business is like a steam roller. It doesn't stop when you get tired or overrought with anxiety. It continues on without you, evolving quickly with each passing day. Your seat on the train gets further and further away, until someone new jumps on board and takes it. Then you're left standing at an empty depot, wondering if there will be a vacancy on the next one that pulls into the station.

Too much time away can ruin a career and sometimes, a friendship. So, thank you my sister, my friend, for reminding me that your world isn't quite as bright without me. Something as beautiful as a panda should step out into the clearing and look up to the sky.

Time to say goodbye.

It's been a while since my last entry. Time is more precious than I realized. I discovered this when I made the choice to honor a parent by caring for her in her final days. When I made this decision, I was ignorant of what it meant and how it would change me. I had no idea of the immensity of my promise.

Caring for the elderly has long been compared to new motherhood, though similar, I think it goes a bit deeper. There's a strangling sadness in caring for an elderly person. Watching their embarrassment as each day brings with it one more freedom that is lost. Freedoms like bathing in privacy, chosing what you'll have for dinner, combing your hair or writing your name.

Then there's the inability to accomplish your dreams, or hope for new ones. How devastating it must be to face the fact that you will never again do things for yourself, like paint your room or shop for a new dress. Imagine the feeling of knowing that it's pointless to make plans.

Promising to care for a dying person is more than just holding their hand, although that's important too. It's about standing up for them when their doctor wants to drug them senseless, taking away all clarity as life begins to slip away.

It's about saving them from the boredom of endless gameshows and trashy talkshows, by reading to them until you're voice is gone, or they fall asleep (whichever comes first!)

It's anticipating every need before they ask, and acting like it's no big deal even though it's huge, time consuming, and you're exhausted.

It's knowing their favorite foods and making sure you have them in the house at all times...feeding them slowly, and lovingly because the next meal could be their last.

Creating distractions from their pain is a big responsibility. It's as ongoing as the pain itself. It causes you to lose track of time and forget who you are and the fact that you have a body too that must be cared for as well. You become sleep deprived and overly emotional. You lash out at other family members, who can't commit themselves for fear of desolving into tears in front of the person trapped in the decaying body. You wonder why it is that YOU have the strength that they lack.

Time passes rapidly, and your life keeps moving, it moves on without you...except in the room. There, you wait together. You don't say much about it, but day after day you both know where it's headed. You know it will end. The question is when? Time together becomes the most important thing can give.

Time is a blessing, but it's also a theif. Just when we think we have plenty of it, it slips from our hands. In old age, we become as dependant upon others as a newborn baby, but our bodies betray the soul held within.

As I said, this experience has changed me. It's been a long, hard road, but it was enlightening and bittersweet. I will never view time, independence, clarity, or simple kindness the same ever again. In closing this chapter of my life, I feel a new sense of wonder and possibility. I plan to dream big and follow my heart, so that when MY time comes, I can leave smiling, knowing that I lived!

Today's subject: Author/Illustrator-Tomie dePaola

If you're in this business with me, struggling to find the winning formula for your next Children's Picture Book, then I'm sure you've heard of Tomie dePaola. The truth is, if you are an SCBWI member and you don't know him, then you haven't done your homework! Tomie has his own seat on the Board of Advisors.

In my humble opinion, his Caldecott winner, "Strega Nona" is a road map for us all. In case you didn't know, it also received an ALA Notable Children's Book award, along with Kirkus Choice, The Horn Book Honor List, The Nakamori Prize and the Brooklyn Museum & Public Library Arts Books for Children Citation (N.Y.).

I was still in high school when it reached publication. I was an illustrator then too. I just didn't know it yet.

















As an illustrator, I have been known to spend forever trying to get great detail into my work. It's like, no matter how much I do, it's never enough. I don't know why. Then I look at Tomie's work, and marvel at it's simplicity in comparison. I beat myself up, thinking, Why? Why can't I do that? Lighten up and just draw! Was Tomie ever this conflicted? Somehow I doubt it.

As a writer, I often wonder if he had a clue that "Strega Nona" would be the one to change everything for him. I'm curious as to how many times it got the boot before Simon & Schuster decided to give it a go. Was his studio wallpapered with rejection letters too? Did each "I'm sorry but..." make him more determined to keep throwing himself in front of the bus until it finally came to a stop?

If you break down the manuscript, you immediately understand why it works. Tomie is a master at setting the stage for conflict. He does everything right, from introducing Strega Nona in the first paragraph, (along with the quaint little town of Calabria)to throwing in a bit of Italian for flavor. The scenes are clear and the repetition is flawlessly executed. In the climax, the word "pasta" is used eight times, as it seems to take on a life of its own!

The only thing that sticks out(to me)that would keep it from being published today is the "relatability factor". You know what I mean. Editors today keep telling us that our main character must be one that the reader can personally identify with. I don't think today's five year old can relate to a little old Italian grandma witch, yet "Strega Nona" continues to be a favorite among five year olds. Hummmm....I wonder what Tomie thinks about that? If he were submitting the manuscript today, might it be titled, "Big Anthony"? Somehow that just isn't the same.

Today's subject:Unprofessionalism

Okay, I'm frustrated. I sent a proposal to this employer who wanted color spot illustrations to place on greeting cards, party invitations, stickers and what not.

In the proposal I clearly stated my fee and provided all the information they requested. Then I waited.

Two days later, they contacted me and said that my fees were well within their range and would I please send samples. I was excited. I produced and sent samples over immediately. Then I waited.

Two days later they responded with...."so, what are your fees?"

If I didn't need the work so badly, I'd say, "Forget about it!"

It's so ridiculous that in this day and age, potential employers that act professionally are as rare to come by as freelance work at a fair price!

That's another thing. Who's put the word out that freelance illustrators will produce an entire 32 page picture book for, say $500 bucks? I seem to see this posted a lot on the freelance work sites. Does anyone really respond to these people? If they do, shame on them.

That's breaks down to say, 16 illustrations @ $31.25 per illustration...IN COLOR!!!! Ridiculous. I'm beginning to think that potential employers believe that because we're artists, we can't do simple math. Anyone who will take an assignment at that rate brings us all down and proves their theory!

Is it Too Late to Dream?

Those of you who know me well, also know about my situation with my 83 year-old mother-in-law. This morning was rough for her. The pain took its toll and her spirit took a brief vacation. I thought her tears were a result of the torture her body had endured, but it turned out that I was wrong.

"It's too late for me," she cried. "Too late for my dreams to come true." She talked about her life and the opportunities she had missed due of fear and circumstance.

I've often felt the same over the last few years, as I've tried so hard to catch up with the education I never had time for, and the clarity that somehow eluded me. Listening to "Mom's" despair, I realized how lucky I was to have Grandparents in my life.

My Grandfather never let me sit around and mope. He was a man of few words, but the twinkle in his eye was enough to make me love him blindly. He dragged me around everywhere and showed me the world through his eyes. He made me understand that it is what we make it. If you want something bad enough, you have to work hard for it. He sure did.

My Grandmother was my greatest fan. She stood up for me and always pushed me to try new things. She gave me the courage to get up on stage, as she would listen to me sing for hours. She attended all my school functions and always told me to "dream big", because she had faith in me.

My dreams have changed over the years, but I think my grandparents would be proud. Now I live my dreams through the characters in my stories. "Polly Opossum" gave me the chance to get back on that stage and be a country music star!

I hope you're still listening Grandmama, I sure miss you somethin' awful!