The Red Casserole Dish

We kids always dreaded it when Mom pulled the red casserole dish out of the oven. We knew inside would be "Miltenberger Mush," a variable concoction using up what few leftovers our family of 6 might have had. If you are averse to mish-mash, you might want to skip today's post because it is coming straight from the red casserole dish.

First: Mitali Perkins threw down the gauntlet, challenging us Seattle folks to hold our own Kids Heart Authors day -- and the challenge has been accepted. Details still to come but on February 14, 2009, local indie bookstores -- 14 for the 14th! -- will host local book creators for Kids Heart Books day. If you are a Pacific Northwest author or illustrator with a book in print that is available through a distributor, email Stesha Brandon, at steshab@u.washington.edu and soon. The deadline to sign up is January 17.

Second: I don't know if I'm brave enough to do it myself yet, but I loved the WIP word counter posted at Lori Van Hoeven's blog (she said she got the idea from Sarah Miller). I did, however, start a word count log for the novel-that-shall-not-be-named-and-may-never-be-finished. 1702 for yesterday; that felt good.

Third: Much ado is being made about the Newbery award these days (Anita Silvey's SLJ article; one in the Washington Post, etc). The awarded books are being criticized for their lack of relevance to today's readers, their lack of diversity, the fact that they often deal with hard topics, and the fact that they don't seem to encourage children to read. You can find a thoughtful discussion at A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy, but I am going to rant. Do you want to know what has really burned my biscuits about the award? Not one Newbery book has ever cured cancer, caused the lame to walk or the blind to see. And I understand some of the Newbery authors can't even dog-paddle, let alone walk on water.

Talk to you later -- gotta go beef up that word count!

Two Books to Add to Your Reading Pile

Not sure why this cover is printing so small -- it in no way reflects my enthusiasm for Joni Sensel's latest book. I have to confess to being jealous -- I mean, don't you wish you'd come up with the idea to write a book about someone who hears numbers?! On top of that, she's set him in a fascinating period of history and given him an ally who is virtually his polar opposite. But chemistry between the main character, Aidan (a monk-in-training), and Lana, (who is not only the illegimate daughter of Lord Donagh but may also be a witch) and circumstances (including a bloody Viking invasion) work to bring these two together. I so admired the way Joni (pronounced "johnny") wove in historical details without stopping to explain them. My only quibble is that this book moves along so quickly I didn't get to spend as much time with Aidan and Lana as I would've liked.




I'd barely closed the cover on The Humming of Numbers when I picked up Neal Shusterman's Unwind. I had read his earlier book, The Schwa was Here, and was completely drawn in by the voice and the inventive storytelling. When I was in Ronan, Montana this past fall, the librarian there was raving about Unwind, the premise of which is that once kids reach 13, their folks can have them "unwound," which basically means their bodies are kept technically alive so their parts can be "harvested" and put to use elsewhere. I briefly met Neal at NCTE in San Antonio in November and I have to say he seems way too nice to be writing such creepy stories. But there you have it. All I can say is I nearly broke several valuable body parts when I was reading last night on the treadmill -- the treadmill stopped but I, completely engrossed in the story, didn't. I literally have read this every spare minute I've had in the past two days. At one point -- and if you've read the book, I bet you can guess which chapter this is -- I had to set the book down and walk away. It was that intense. As I mentioned in my GoodReads review, what I most admire about this book is that it's gripping and fast-paced while tackling a gritty subject without preachiness.

After these two intense, graphic stories, I am ready for a softer, gentler read. Recommendations?

Resolutions and Revisions

This is the Sentinel, a heron who most often sits in the big leaf maple that overhangs the bank at Shangri-Lar. We found him, brooding, down the beach on a post-New Year's walk. I could relate: I've been in a brooding mood, too, over the novel that's not getting written.




So I've made a New Year's Resolution to face the feared revision of the dreaded Second Novel. In doing so, I feel a lot like my sweet friend, E, here, high above the ground, unsteady on a slick, narrow log. Unlike E, I don't have a parent waiting at the end of the driftwood log to catch me lest I fall. This photo reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, from A Mouse and His Child -- "You've got to take those daring leaps or you're nowhere." So I'm leaping back into the literary life -- you know, where one actually writes instead of doing business and promoting and answering emails. But this resolution has a gentle twist to it (no pun intended) as I'm taking heed of something our yoga instructor said: What if, instead of seeing all the cracks and flaws in your life, you saw the opportunities?

So, I'm out on a limb with this revision. So what? That gives me 360 degrees of possibilities!


I must confess, I am even more resolute about my resolution because of a New Year's gift from Mr. Random House: an ad for the Yearling edition of Hattie Big Sky in the New York Times Book Review, Sunday January 4. Mr. RH apparently has the patience of Job when it comes to waiting for writers to turn in promised manuscripts, even if they're of the dreaded second novel variety. But he's a crafty fellow -- he knows that guilt works! So I'm climbing back out on that limb and getting back to work. Right now.