The Three Little Gators

The only thing wrong with Helen Ketteman's new picture book, The Three Little Gators, is that unless you live in Florida, you won't be able to hear Helen read it. I certainly can't do justice to this rollicking read-aloud with my plain old Pacific Northwest voice. No sirree: this book needs a gal from south. So please, Mr. Whitman: get this out on CD soon, with Helen reading it. You'll sell more copies than skeeters on a swamp.

One of the things I love about this retelling is that our heroes are three alligators, not creatures one normally worries about. But these are little gators, off to start lives of their own. And they live in the same neighborhood as Big-Bottomed Boar who enjoys nothing better than a bit of gator gumbo. Or grilled gator. Or gator gratinee. So they decide to build houses. One out of sand, one out of sticks and one out of stone. You can guess what happens next! You and the children you're reading to will laugh out loud at this story and kindergartners will get a complete hoot out of the slightly naughty phrase, "big-bottomed."

This is a big-hearted and big-laugh-inducing picture book, thanks to the delicious words written by Helen and to the hysterical pictures drawn by Will Terry.

What Can You Buy for a Buck?

Continuing the theme of feeling so blessed by those I've met because of my writing life, today's post is about two friends of mine, a mother-daughter team, from Wisconsin. I met Robin and Helen at the Wisconsin Reading Association Conference a year or so ago. Robin is a college prof, fellow bookworm and completely delightful person but it was her mom, Helen, who stole my heart. Helen just plain enjoys life. And, like my mom, she doesn't let near-blindness from macular degeneration stop her from doing anything. So Helen is up there on my top ten list.

We write back and forth -- letters, not emails -- sharing the trials and tribulations of trying to write. Last summer, a letter from Helen raving about a new fruit she'd tried called a Plucot sent me in search of one (actually, there are many varieties. I tried the Dinosaur Egg kind and it was yummy.) Recently, she wrote asking for a school memory because she was collecting them for an essay. Yesterday's gray skies were brightened by another letter from her, this one with money inside! A whole dollar. And with this question: what can you get for a buck? (caveat: you can't go to the dollar store)



There are lots of ways, of course. But I'm on a veggie kick right now, not able to get enough of the wonderful snap parsnips add to almost anything. And I'd just gone to the store so had a receipt. I'd bought 4 parsnips for about $2. So 2 would no doubt cost me a buck. And well worth it for the flavor they add to my new favorite recipe, Chicken Not Pie, from Food Matters, by Mark Bittman.



What could you get for a buck? And, maybe more importantly, how would your character spend a crisp one-dollar bill?

Life's Sweet Surprises

Writers take risks in setting stories to paper but readers take risks, too. I was reminded of that recently in a conversation with a young friend I'll call Louisa. She confessed that it had taken her two months to get up the courage to email me to tell me her thoughts about Hattie Big Sky. Louisa's comment reminded me of my all-time favorite quote, "You've got to take those daring leaps or you're nowhere," (from Russell Hoban's A Mouse and His Child). Both writers and readers have to endure shaky hands and fluttering stomachs, -- uncertain and even afraid of how our efforts will be received -- if there are ever to be those cherished connections.

Around the holidays, I got an email from a junior higher named Kaelen. She told me how much she loved HBS, so much so that she used the cover in an art project she was working on. Kaelen shared her dream with me, of wanting to be an artist and writer. For one second, I was tempted to respond that it's hard work and that not everyone makes it -- you know, downer, adult kinds of things. Some grace, however, took over my fingers and instead I told her to keep after that dream. Long story short: an email soon arrived from Kaelen's mother telling me about challenges Kaelen faced in her life and how much my response had meant. One thing led to another, and Kaelen and I are going to get to meet when I'm in Warrensburg, Missouri in a few weeks for the Children's Literature Festival there. After hearing from her mom, I sent Kaelen a copy of HBS. Look at what I received as a thank-you in return:
She's only in junior high! Amazing. And Kaelen tells me she's sending me a package with more of her stunning artwork.

I get to delight in this wonderful connection because a reader set aside worries about whether or not it was okay to email an author and about how the author might respond. Kaelen has inspired me to send a thank you note, today, to an author whose book I've admired.

And Kaelen's beautiful courage deserves to be honored by my doing my very best work. So back at it I go!

It's all Laurie's Fault!

With eyes too blurry from an eye doc appointment to tackle WIP (I know; excuses, excuses), I decided to catch up on blog comments. Co-Regional Advisor, Laurie Thompson, added a dandy set of questions with which I will bombard my next victim, I mean, interviewee.

Of course, reading her comments lead me to Laurie's blog. Here is the danger in reading other people's blogs: you find more stuff to do that keeps you from writing. Though I'm blaming Laurie, she actually got the idea from Jim DiBartolo who got the idea from someone else.

What writer hasn't secretly dreamed of slipping into a phone booth and emerging as a superhero?! I suspect there is a bit of the Walter Mitty in all of us. Thanks to the Superhero Factory, you can find true happiness, simply with a few clicks of the mouse, just as I did:
Okay, so the name's kind of lame ("The Talented Walking Wizard"), but I didn't get to pick that part. But green is my favorite color and the walking stick was (a) the only acceptable weapon to choose from (haven't the creators of The Hero Factory heard that the pen is mightier than the sword?!) and (b) symbolizes my attempts to be a flaneur -- one who walks out in the world and observes.

Now, before the Talented Walking Wizard bops me on the noggin with that hefty stick, I better get back to work on WIP.

Just as soon as I slip out of that cape.

Hooray for Bear. . . and Mouse, too!

The news is hot off the press: my dear friend, Bonny Becker, is the proud recipient of this year's Golden Kite Award (picture book category) for her charming, soon-to-be classic, A Visitor for Bear. Add this to a long list of accolades, including NT Best-Seller list. Did you hear Daniel Pinkwater and Scott Simon read it on NPR? Hilarious!

Since Bonny is in my critique group, I got to hear this story in its early stages. I wish I could say I helped Bonny make this story what it is, but it has been practically perfect in every way from the get-go. If you haven't read it yet, you are in for a complete treat.

Bear is an irascible old crumudgeon, content to live his solitary life. He keeps others away with a huge "No Visitors" sign on his front door. The sign and his grouchiness work, too, until one day Mouse shows up. Small and gray and bright-eyed, Mouse pops up in the most unlikely places in Bear's country cottage. By the end of the story, Mouse has not only wiggled out of teapots, drains and drawers, he has wiggled his way into Bear's heart.

The language alone makes this book well-worth reading (along with warm and humorous illustrations by Kady MacDonald Denton), but it is the endearing story of a hard heart softened by friendship that will bring you back to Bear and Mouse time and time again. I think it would've been a shoe-in for a Caldecott, had it not been for the fact that the illustrator is Canadian.

Congratulations, Bonny! I hope you can hear my cheering from here!

Of Lions and Lambs

The wind last night was definitely lionish, but this morning's blue skies felt said "lamb." Add in these crocuses popping up at Shangri-Lar, and you've definitely got some spring going on (at least here in the great Pacific Northwest).

We spent the night at the bay last night after helping my baby sister celebrate her big five-oh. I took the camera along, fully intending to get a picture of her but my memory being what it is, I didn't remember until I was headed off to bed. Trust me: she is just as cute now as she was in these photos:

That's me with my mouth open, in the upper right. Bossy Big Sister!

Like the seasons, birthdays come and go. Were they a big thing at your house, growing up? We often had family over, but we didn't have friend parties as kids seem to now. I asked my baby sis if there was any one birthday she remembered, growing up; she didn't. Neil fondly remembers his 10th, when he got both a Schwinn bike AND a baseball glove. I'm like my sister; I can't recall that one "special" birthday. But I do love Sandra Cisneros' story on turning 10, which I believe is in The House on Mango Street.

Birthdays are generally big deals for kids but, aside from Cisneros' story, I can't come up with any novels for kids with birthday party scenes. I know there are some -- fill me in!