Revision

I am still in the process of revising my manuscript.  When a friend asks how my writing is going and I say that I am still revising my manuscript, often they reply, "still?" and I can see the surprise. The mild disbelief.  The repeated use of the word 'still' makes me feel as though I'm stuck and not moving.  But what I'm really doing when I revise is re-vision.  I'm re-visioning the manuscript, I'm working with the story from a new and dynamic perspective, I'm re-imagining it, I'm re-creating it.  It's not easy, but there's nothing static about it either.  And that helps.

Useful articles on revision:

Literary Hub:  How important is the first draft of your novel? by Sandra Scofield

Necessary Fiction: A month of revision by Matt Salesses

The light that returns with the day

My sister-in-law gave a copy of Trumpet of the Swan to my son for Christmas - I wasn't sure if he would be as excited to read it as some of the more contemporary books he has enjoyed lately, full of monster slayings, fierce battles and heady page-turning mystery.  But he has, he has loved every word.  My husband has been reading it to him before bed and it just so happened that last night they reached the end. I got to hear the final sentence and was reminded of two things I needed reminding of - first that the light returns with the day.  The light returns.  And second, that there is room and there is need for all kinds of stories.

Children's author interviews

I was recently searching for some author interviews to share with my 4th Grade Writing Club, specifically ones that talked about the craft of writing in ways that might be accessible and useful to them. Here are our two favourites:

1. Storycraft  Videos  

This website is a wealth of information and resources. It's focused around World Book Day, which will be on 1 March 2018. Our group especially liked the Cressida Cowell interview.

2.  NBC Writers Speak to Kids

NBC Learn has a page full of interviews with children's authors. We watched and discussed the Jacqueline Woodson clip but they are all interesting and super accessible. It was published some years ago but much of the advice and thinking is timeless.

Beginnings

Just before the beginning of this new year, I had the opportunity to visit the Library of Congress's Children's Department.  I got to see a rare edition of what is considered the first ever children's picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus or 'Visible World in Pictures'. This particular copy was published in 1664, as you can see if you look closely at the bottom of the right hand page. Visible world in pictures. I keep thinking about that as I begin a fresh round of revisions and dig a little deeper into my current manuscript.  That's what I'm doing, making imaginary pictures out of words, invoking all my senses - of the visible but also the invisible world around me.  And I wonder how those two things relate, the real and the imaginary, the visible and invisible. And then I stop for a moment and the cursor blinks and I feel grateful, that this is how I get to begin each day, before the sun rises, crafting a story, making pictures. 

A book of letters, inspiration, craft and insight

A friend of mine recommended Dear Genius - The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom, some time ago, but it was only recently that I had a chance to read it. For anybody writing children's literature, it's a gift.  It's true that much of the content published today is very different to what it was when she was an editor and publisher at Harper & Row (during the 1940s, 50s and 60s) and we now communicate mostly through email, but there remains so much to be gleaned from this book.  

In the introduction to the collection, Marcus writes of a crumpled slip of paper that Nordstrom carried in her purse as a kind of  'professional credo, to be shared with authors and reread to herself' during her most tired and disillusioned moments. On the crumpled slip of paper was advice given to Agnes de Mille, by the legendary choreographer, Martha Graham. It's something I have shared with my critique group and have taped to my own computer today.

Ursula Nordstrom 1969. Photograph by Paul Wilkes

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all of time this expression is unique.  And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost.  It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open."  

~ As quoted in Dear Genius, from Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham by Agnes de Mille.

The Highlights Foundation

I am just back from my first workshop at The Highlights Foundation in Pennsylvania, led by the magical, thoughtful and inspiring Cynthia Leitich Smith, Uma Krishnaswami and Sean Petrie.

The Highlights mission reads: "To improve the quality of children's literature by helping authors and illustrators hone their craft."  Writing can be lonely, so finding ways to connect with and learn from other writers - wherever they may be on their own creative journey - keeps the fire burning. It was a memorable weekend and I learned a great deal, not just from the faculty but my fellow writers too.  I'm always humbled by how much people put into the stories they have to tell, how much there is to learn about the craft and how generous and supportive the children's literature community is. I left full of gratitude. 

Reading right now:

This is not a children's book. But as I continue to scatter seeds for a possible story, this is what I'm exploring for now.  And even if you aren't scattering seeds for a story, this is a fascinating and challenging read. 

Untamed spaces

The clip above has no audio, it's of a live animal market in the east end of London during the 1930s.  There were puppies, kittens, birds, monkeys, mice and apparently lion cubs up for sale.  In researching the opening of a possible new story, I discovered this was not surprising for the time. In fact you could buy anything from tigers and panthers to camels and anteaters on the other side of town, in the luxurious department store, Harrods. How would anyone look after a leopard in a London flat? Why? What happened when owners realised they couldn't possibly take care of them? What happened to all these animals during the war? Was London Zoo ever bombed?

The time before a new story begins to take shape is both daunting and exciting and full of questioning.  I never know where the voice of a character might come from, what the world looked like through their eyes, what they smelled, needed, dreamed about, fought for.  I never know where the story might lead.  This period of loose research feels like the scattering of seeds into wild, untamed spaces.  Perhaps something will come of it, perhaps not.  But I'm in the habit of hoping, the habit of sowing.

For the full collection of photos by Anthony Linch, taken in 1946 for Life magazine, click here. 

Terry Wogan interview with Roald Dahl, 1984

E.B. White once said in an interview that was published in The Paris Review in 1969 that : "Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down. Children are demanding. They are the most attentive, curious, eager, observant, sensitive, quick, and generally congenial readers on earth..."  Clearly Dahl would have agreed with him.

The habit of hoping

This book has become something of a touchstone for me. I go back to it again and again.

In re-reading a chapter entitled 'The habit of hoping', I was recently reminded of an interview with Kate DiCamillo where she says there's only one thing she keeps in mind, only one hard and fast rule she holds on to: "which is something from Katherine Patterson - that you're duty-bound when you write for kids, to end with hope.  Other than that rule, all bets are off."  

It's one of the essential ways in which children's literature serves its readers - by allowing for the presence of hope, by creating the space for it to exist, to breathe, to be. That's all - the creation of a space to fill, no matter how slight. It's not a guarantee, it's not about an idealised happy ending, there is no masking of the complexity, pain or paradox that weaves through childhood as much as adulthood.  But hope is there in the closing pages, it's there in the end. And it's unyielding.  

Here is McCann's chapter in full: