Why CAN'T All Books Be Like WE WERE LIARS? (Also, please tell me when I have spinach on my teeth)

I read a great book the other day. We Were Liars by E. Lockhart. One of Lockhart's earlier books The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, is a favorite of mine. Laugh out-loud funny, clever, and original. It's got a cool feminist manifesto twist at the end that'll make you (if you happen to be a woman) pump your fist in the air and roar.

We Were Liars will probably make you burst into tears. I just want to give you fair warning.

It's about a girl named Cady who spends summers hanging out with her cousins on their grandfather's private island. When the story begins, Cady's not doing too well. She's suffering from horrible migraine headaches. Something happened a few years ago during her fifteenth summer and it's what probably caused the headaches. She's not sure. She can't remember much of what happened that summer.

Now she's back on the island and hanging out with the cousins and everyone's tiptoeing around her. They've been instructed by their mothers not to tell Cady what happened.

So that's all I'm going to say about the plot and Cady.

I knew going into the book there was going to be a big twist and I was trying to figure out what it could be as I read.

I have a difficult time reading books and falling into them the way I used to as a child. Years of deconstructing texts as an English major and English teacher and years of writing and trying to figure out how stories are put together so I could put my own stories together end up being hazards when you just want to lose yourself in a book.

Reading We Were Liars, I was doing that. Thinking. I'd put the book down and marvel for a minute at the strong, crystal clear voice of Cady. I'd bend a page corner over and wonder about the structure of the book. Why did E. Lockhart begin with that particular moment? Why'd she stick the fairy tale interludes in where she did? Why all the mentions of dogs? Etc. Then I'd keep reading, thinking, This is a pretty good book, enjoying the cleverness of it and the humor and insightful bits.

And then. BAM.

I turned a page and it hit me. The twist. With such force I gasped out loud and burst into tears. I cried as I read the last few pages. I turned back to page one and started reading the book again trying to figure out how Lockhart did it--how she tricked me--not just with the brilliant twist--but how she struck such an emotional chord, how she made me feel for these pretend people and forget that I was reading a book.

I couldn't figure it out.

I called my friend Donna, who happens to be my beloved trusted amazing critique partner and we hashed it out for a while. What makes the book so good? How did the author pull it off? How'd she write something that transcends the genre, that makes you THINK and FEEL as well as be entertained for a few hours?

(Back story: Donna is my Ideal Reader. She is the person in my head whom I write for--the reader I most want to please. Last week I finished the fifth revision of a book I have been working on and struggling with on and off since 2009. When I "finished" it last week, I had no real sense of what the hell I had. I still don't know exactly. I realize that I don't trust my own judgment anymore when it comes to my writing. I see smatterings of beautiful stuff and I see larger chunks of garbage and the two things intermingle and even switch places depending on my mood and/or the weather.

I sent the manuscript to Donna and waited anxiously for her response, going back and forth between dread and eagerness to hear it. I geared myself up for the worst. The worst would be Donna saying the book is a massive unfixable mess and she can't believe I spent 5 years of my life wasting my time on it. I am not proud of this, but I toyed with the idea of asking her to lie to me if it came down to that. Then I worried that she WOULD lie to me to spare my feelings and the book would eventually be published and every reviewer on Amazon and Goodreads would give it 1 star and muse about how such a mess ever made it to publication.)

Anyway, we kept talking about We Were Liars. Donna read a book recently that bugged her for a variety of reasons and she started telling me about it and that led to us discussing other flawed books that failed for a variety of reasons. Poor writing, weakly developed characters, massive plot holes, whatever. We worried about the authors of these books. Why didn't anyone TELL them when they still had a chance to fix their various messes?

I said to Donna, Oh well, not every book can be We Were Liars. 

And she said, Why not?

And then I wondered, Yeah. Why not? Isn't writing a great book what we're all striving for?

Maybe some writers don't think about this kind of thing. I don't know how a book goes right and I don't know how a book goes wrong. I only know the end result--whether it falls into the We Were Liars category or, um, the other category. I also know that if I am going to bother, if I am going to spend 5 years writing and rewriting and rewriting a book, tearing my hair out and pacing around my home muttering and staring at my computer screen until my eyeballs burn in my skull, then, damn it, I'm shooting for the WWL end of the spectrum.

Which means that someone-- DONNA God love her--must absolutely level with me and tell me the truth.

I gave her this speech before she read my book.

She just laughed. "Aren't we always honest with each other?" she asked. "If you had spinach on your teeth, I'd tell you."

Whew. I guess.

I mean, Whew. Thank you, Donna, as I would tell you, too.

She sent me her response a few days later. I was at the grocery store and I made my daughter pull the critique up on the phone...

(to be continued)

Pathways to Publication: Interview with Donna Koppelman

Have a manuscript you think might be worthy of publication and not sure what to do next? Maybe you're wondering if you need an agent and how to go about finding one. Or you're confused about what kind of money is involved--does someone pay YOU or do you have to sink some of your own savings into this venture? What does an editor do? Will you have to market this book yourself?

Last month I wrote about my first feeble attempt at publishing a book. Now I'm interviewing other writers on their SUCCESSFUL pathways to publication--from self-published to traditional, debut writers to a writer who's published 130 books, and everything in between. 

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Children's writer Donna Koppelman on working for hire


Jody: You wrote a book that you felt was worthy of publication, what was your next step?

Donna: Actually, my path was a little different in that I didn’t write the book until someone asked me to.  After I wrote ISABEL, a book to be used as bibliotherapy in our region after the trauma of Hurricane Isabel, I was invited to do a book signing in Asheville.  Unbeknownst to me, Hurricane Isabel had not only had a massive impact on our coastal region, it had provoked major flooding in the mountains.  We have great friends in Asheville, so I went.

As a result of that book signing, I became acquainted with a person on staff at the Grove Park Inn.  They had been tossing around the idea of doing a children’s book based on a true story (one of the Roosevelt children had lost a teddy bear, Major Bear, in the Grove Park Inn and it wasn’t found for many years).   I said I would love to put together a proposal, and off it went.

Long story short, I had a series of brainstorming sessions with the board and CEO, and then I wrote the book.  It went through a series of changes, edits, etc. for about five months  until everyone was happy.  The illustrations were beautifully done by the same friend and artist who had illustrated ISABEL.  Her editing process was similar to mine.

Jody: How long did it take from finished book to publication?

Donna: I don’t quite remember, but I think it was about a year.  Maybe a little less.

Jody: Did you have an agent?

Donna: When we were in the process of the proposal, etc., one of the people making the decision knew my friend, who is a local dentist.  She put in a good word, so I called her my agent.  But no, I didn’t have an actual agent at the time.

Jody: Explain a little about your book deal.

Donna: When we were in the proposal process, I wrote up two possibilities.  In one scenario, the illustrator and I got a cut of everything forever.  In the second scenario, they paid us very well up front, and we released the rights.  (Except the illustrator sold each of her originals and their rights individually later)

Grove Park Inn used their graphic design team to design the lay-out of the book, and they did a great job.  They had a giant costume made (by same people that make Disney costumes) of the main character, and they have a ‘room’ in the inn that is Major Bear’s room that children can visit.   Children’s menu items correspond with Major Bear.

Jody: And that book is still being sold in the Grove Park Inn gift shop?

Donna: Yes, and they sell coloring books, stuffed bears of various sizes, pencils, t-shirts, tote bags, you name it.  Also, every year at Christmas, Major Bear hosts a family Christmas party at the Grove Park Inn.  Sometimes I come and do a reading of the book and sign books for people, but I was only obligated to do it the first year.  Any additional times, they have paid me and given me a room at the Grove Park Inn during my stay.  If you have ever been to the Grove Park Inn, you understand that it was a treat to go there and work.  It’s a gorgeous place.

Jody: That sounds like a nice deal--how it came together for you, and then, the perks, like getting to stay at the inn. What's next for you, as far as publication?

Donna: I enjoyed this project very much, but I still aim to go the traditional route with my picture books.  That experience was unique (and profitable), but I haven’t sought out other opportunities to do the same thing.  (Although maybe I should. I know that Grove Park Inn has sold thousands of those books...

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Donna Koppelman's stories have appeared in Pockets and Shine Brightly. She has a masters in Education and is presently working on an MFA in Children's Fiction at Hamline University.

You can find Donna on her blog ChitChat
And check out Isabel on Amazon
and Major Bear at the Grove Park Inn here

Dispatches from New York (In which I Wander the City Streets with my Best Friend, Brave the Cold to Take a Picture, Gush Like A Goofball to my Author Idol, and Remember Why I Love to Write for Children. PS. I also learn Julie Andrews' secret to writer's block)

The past four days I've been in NYC for an awesome SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) conference and my head is still spinning with the cool stuff I learned and the amazing people I met and chatted with (mostly in the long restroom lines between sessions). Now I'm home and contemplating the two tons of laundry I've got to do while watching the snow fall from my writerly perch on the couch, sweet doggie curled up on my lap.

Sometimes I fear that I border on agoraphobic. I live in my pajamas, for example. I rarely leave my home except to walk sweet doggie and/or cart my teen daughter around town. Soon I will not even do that. She has her driver's permit! She is counting down the days to getting her license! I am both relieved and appalled! My point is that I rarely take trips to New York City to shmooze with fellow book writers. It's costly. I know I will have to, um, wear non-pajama-like clothing. I enjoy this solitary curling up on the sofa kind of life where I get to write and read all day. When I chat with other writers, it is a virtual style of chatting, where I can plan out what I want to say and NOT say and generally present myself as a much cooler younger hipper version of my actual self (the one in the pajamas on the couch surrounded by laundry piles).

But, oh! I loved going to this conference. I could probably write 20 blog posts about all of the things I learned and all of the people I met. In fact, maybe I WILL write 20 posts, but for now, here is an overview before I forget:

1. The best thing about the trip was meeting up with my long time critique partner Donna. If you've been following this blog, you know that I met her in the port-a-potty line at another conference five years ago, and we have been emailing each other daily ever since, sharing our writing goals, critiquing each other's work, basking in each other's successes and sobbing over each other's near successes. I love Donna and simply would not be where I am in this writing journey without her. We spent two days together wandering around NYC. We drank coffee in a funky cafe. Shared a bottle of champagne at an elegant Italian restaurant. Sat on a bench near Central Park and made guesses about which passersby were native New Yorkers. Trekked like, 50 blocks up to the Simon & Schuster building in frigid blustery weather so Donna could take my picture with my dying cellphone.

I brought a stack of postcards printed up by my publishing company with me, but when push came to shove, I was feeling chicken-y about handing them out to strangers. Donna grabbed most of the stack and did the work for me. One of the highlights of my trip was talking to a fellow writer and noticing halfway through our conversation that he had a copy of MY postcard folded up and placed prominently in his name badge. (Donna had already gotten to him, you see.)

2. I don't know why I always forget how inspiring the speakers at these conferences are. I am a shameless author groupie. In fact I signed up for this particular conference specifically so I could see Meg Rosoff, the author of one of my favorite books of all time, How I Live Now. I read this novel a few years ago when I was at a low point, despairing about my chances for publication and feeling pessimistic about the state of YA literature in general. I was in a weird book slump, having the bad luck to pick up meh book after meh book, and then I picked up How I Live Now and was blown away. The book is brilliant and heartbreaking and funny. Impossible to characterize, so I won't. But it renewed my faith in writing and what good writing can do. I will never be as good of a writer as Meg Rosoff, but thank God, writers like Meg Rosoff exist in the world, is all I can say. Yes, I realize I am gushing like a goofball.

You should have seen me in NYC when I sat in the audience while Meg Rosoff gave the keynote speech. I laughed. I cried. I gave her a standing ovation. And you should have seen me when I spied Meg Rosoff standing at the bar, like, ten feet away from me, surrounded by Meg Rosoff groupies. I wanted to go up to her, but I didn't want to come off looking like a Meg Rosoff groupie. Donna suggested I go buy myself a drink so I could sidle closer. She gave me cash (I never carry cash) so I could buy a crazy expensive drink. I sidled. I forked over the 14 dollars for a drink. My eyes met Meg Rosoff's eyes. Boldly (yet shakily) I introduced myself. I told her I once reviewed her book. She kindly pretended that she remembered that review. I told her how much I loved her speech and her books. I told her I'd read her blog post about how she was 46 years old when she published How I Live Now and that was inspiring to me because I will be, um, 46 years old when my first book comes out in the fall.

She said, "Oh. What is the title of your book?"

I said "Thin Space" at the same moment that Donna, my loyal wingman, miraculously appeared at my side, postcard in hand. Donna pressed my postcard into Meg Rosoff's hand and Meg Rosoff said "The book cover is lovely."

I thanked her, blabbered for another minute about I don't know what, and then Donna and I drifted away and giggled like lunatics at the cupcake table.

3. Other speakers at this conference were inspiring too. Margaret Peterson Haddix, author of 30 books for children and fellow Ohioan, talked about the importance of stories in a world where books may be going out of style. I laughed and cried during her talk too. I was in awe of illustrators Shaun Tan and Mo Willems, great artists and thought-provoking and hilarious and moving speakers. These people reminded me why I love being part of the children's writers and illustrators community.

Sometimes--shockingly--we are disparaged. There are many people who actually believe that writing for children is somehow lesser than writing for adults, as if children don't deserve good literature, as if writing for younger humans is easier. Meg Rosoff spoke about this. She said something like, ask people you know what their favorite books are; ask them which books they read more than once and which books they remember and love. Chances are these books are children's books. They come into your life when you are still being formed and they change you. It is an awesome responsibility, she said, to be a writer for children. And there is nothing lesser or easy about it.

4. I guess I should mention that Julie Andrews was one of the speakers at the conference too. Julie Andrews wrote dozens of books with her stepdaughter and the two of them gave a presentation about how they collaborate on their many projects. OH MY GOD JULIE ANDREWS IS HERE, was something I heard quite a bit over the past few days. I also heard this: oh my god, julie andrews is here. 

She's a celebrity author, and it's not hard to wonder if she was given a break; if things were, in fact, easy for her in the publication journey. Yeah. Most assuredly. Still, it was cool to see the woman and to hear her talk in her familiar lilting Sound of  Music voice. At one point she mentioned that when she's stuck in a story, she will get up and go to the bathroom, and she nearly always finds the solution. The tweeters in the back of the conference hall were tweeting up a storm. Julie Andrews goes to the bathroom!! They tweeted, excitedly. And we all shared a collective laugh and sense of camaraderie with Julie Andrews, just another fellow writer for children.

5. Because I am like Julie Andrews, I went to the bathroom a lot during the conference. I met people in line who are just starting out on this potentially long and potentially soul-crushing journey. I slipped them my postcard and told them they should keep writing and working and dreaming. I met other people who have books out already and I picked their brains about publicity and social media and balancing writing with these other obligations. (Also, I slipped them my postcard.) I attended a session given by a veteran editor who once rejected something I wrote. She was beautiful and brilliant, reading passages from books she loved and talking about voice and texture and narrative layers. I went to a session presented by a newby editor-turned-agent, who was beautiful and brilliant and too new to have ever rejected me.

6. One night I wandered into a panel discussion on LGBTQ characters in children's literature. More on this in another post, but I was fascinated by the discussion and then amazed when I realized that the writers presenting just happened to be Jane Yolen, Bruce Coville, and Ellen Hopkins. I almost fell out of my chair.

7. On the flight home I chatted it up with a new friend--a YA writer just starting out. I gave her my last post card and then I settled into my cramped plane seat and read a young adult novel called Ask the Passengers by A. S. King. More on this book later, but holy moly, it was amazing. The main character, like so many of us humans, is struggling--with who she is, with what the point of life is, with what she wants to be and do. Sometimes, in despair, she lies outside on her picnic table and looks up at the sky. She waits for a plane to fly by and she sends the anonymous passengers in the plane her love.

I sat on my plane, reading about this girl and her painful and heartbreaking and hilarious story. For several hours she was real to me. When I closed the book, I was crying. I looked out the dark window and thought about the writer A. S. King. I imagined that I was flying over her in the dark, and I sent her my gratitude and love.  

Not Just Sitting Around Eating Bon-Bons

One of the best things I ever got out of attending a writing workshop was a new friend. It was July 2008 at the amazingly inspirational and life-changing Children’s Writing Conference at Chautauqua and I was pretty much at a crossroads in my writing life. Did I want to keep writing for children? was one of the many questions I had going into it. That conference is on the expensive side and it was hard to justify spending money like that on myself, specifically on a hobby that didn’t seem to be going anywhere in the career sense.

I clicked with a lot of people that week, some just dipping a toe into the writing pool and others already treading water on the deep end. I was searching for a person somewhere in the middle, maybe one who was ready to pull off the floaties and dunk her head under. I found her waiting in line at a porta-potty. Donna was an aspiring picture book writer, and she had a couple of novels under her belt too and they sounded interesting to me. We had a few things in common. Kids sort of the same age. (But she has four!) We’d both been English teachers, and we were spending our child-raising years as uber-PTA volunteers. We nervously exchanged manuscripts that day.

I say nervously because there is always this element of fear when you first look at someone’s writing (and know she is evaluating yours too). The biggest worry is that you won’t like it and how will you tell her without hurting her feelings? Ideally, you’d both be at a similar level and looking for the same kind feedback. Up to this point I'd never found someone like that, so I wasn’t holding my breath.

But, whew. What Donna wrote was pretty darned good and apparently she thought my stuff was worthwhile too. After the conference we started emailing each other and this correspondence quickly turned into a twice daily check-in. Every morning we email each other our goals for the day and every afternoon we write what we call our "accountability." At the end of the year I scrolled through all those emails and found that they were a record of Donna's and my writing journey and our friendship. There are our goals, of course, but also snippets of daily life, books we’ve read and errands we’ve run. Stuff we make for dinner. Funny and/or annoying things are kids and hubbies do.

Once Donna wrote that a friend of hers wondered what she did all day at home. The implication was that Donna must be sitting around eating bon-bons. She certainly wasn’t out working. Or cleaning her house. That accusation became a joke to us. Yes, we were sitting around eating bon-bons all day. That’s what writers do. For a Christmas present that year I compiled all of our emails and had them printed and bound on one of those self-published book sites. I titled the book Sitting Around Eating Bon-Bons and even used a picture of bon-bons for the cover art.

Now it’s an annual tradition, that correspondence book. I’m editing Book Three this week and it’s inspiring to see how far Donna and I have come since we met. I can’t count how many times we’ve talked each other out of quitting. And when one of us has any kind of success, the other feels it just as much, if not more so. Writing can be such a lonely activity. Also frustrating and exciting and heartbreaking and amazing. It’s a million times better when you have another person to share the journey with. All I can say is thank goodness Donna and I had the same inclination to head for the porta-potty when we did.

Still on the Verge

A few weeks ago my good writing friend and mentor, children’s author Tracy Barrett invited me to write a post for her Goodbye, Day Job! blog. (I’ll give you a moment to read it here. Thanks.) So writing for Tracy got me thinking about a lot of things—some kind of depressing, like the fact that I quit my day job four years ago to write full-time and haven’t made much outward progress on the publication front since then. Unless you count one story in Cicada. But it was like two years ago and the next story I sent them was “passed on” as my former agent liked to say. I had a few nibbles here and there and a few encouraging comments from editors and agents. 

But mostly what I got were more passes, or worse, nothing. As in, no response at all from what I picture as extremely young, over-worked editors, demoralized in the face of this dismal economy and general state of malaise when it comes to the future of the book industry. That, or else they’re all out having a grand time strolling the streets of Manhattan and sipping coffee in outdoor cafes and traveling around giving speeches at conferences for audiences of eager/deluded beginning writers (I get this image from following these editors on Twitter. Lately my Twitter feed reminds me more and more of high school when I was sitting off at a side table eating soggy French fries while gazing longingly at the popular group, laughing it up and clearly living more exciting lives then I ever would. I know this is a weird digression, but it occurs to me that there’s a revealing clue in here about why I spend my days writing about angsty teenagers. Or maybe not.)

Anyhoo, enough of the depressing side of things. In the positive column I’ve come up with the following:

1. I’m counting that Cicada story, damn it. I should count it. They paid me, the only payment I’ve earned thus far in the past four years.

2. I said in the Goodbye, Day Job post that I had written over 500,000 words during this time “off.” That was a total guesstimate. But it got me thinking how many words I really have written. And guess what? It’s 1,564,910. (This includes eight novels for a total of 483,256. Plus 1,081,654 words of daily journal writing. In case you’re wondering, I did not include in this number several projects I started but didn’t finish, a handful of stories, three years of correspondence with my writing buddy, and this blog. For trivia purposes the blog stands at 45,398 words as of this moment.)

3. And speaking of my writing buddy, meeting the glorious Donna Koppelman of Edenton, North Carolina in line at a porto-potty at a writers’ conference, ranks right up there as one of my greatest accomplishments in the past four years. She is my accountability/critique partner extraordinaire. We still haven’t quite decided if we are mentoring or enabling each other on this seemingly never-ending quest of ours, but we do agree that we are thankful to be on the road together.

4. Did you catch it up there in number 2 that I wrote 8 freaking books? (Okay, one of these will likely remain in a drawer forever. And two were complete rewrites, but still. I’ve been busy.)

5. Made some cool breakthroughs in my process. (These include but are not limited to (1) figuring out that I must write something everyday to stay sane. Which also has the added bonus of making me less of a witch with a b around my family (2) realizing that to follow a story through to its proper end I must hold nothing back, no matter how strange or bizarre it seems as I am writing. Strangely, my best stuff comes from this murky, subcutaneous place (3) learning how to revise giant messes of rough drafts with help from tons of books on writing and numerous writing workshops and conferences (4) understanding that I really really do trust the process. When I start a book, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that I will finish it, one way or another, even if I don’t quite know how I will get there.)

Not too shabby. Even if I don’t have an actual book on a shelf to show for it. The road, as they say, is long. There are mountains in our way. But we climb a step every day. (oh geez, now I’m quoting bad 80’s songs.)

It’s freakily true, though. When I first met Donna and we were comparing journeys, she said something like, you’re way further ahead than I am. (She is very sweet. Did I mention this?) And she went on to say, it’s like you’re on the highway and you’ve got your blinker on and the exit’s coming up and you’re about to veer off.

In other words, she was saying I was on the verge. When I started this blog last year (Sept 30, 2010, to be exact), I believed that I was just about to get off the interstate. I had no idea that the exit ramp was so far away. I’ve had my blinker on for miles now. Sometimes I’m tempted to turn the stupid thing off. But that’s only on a really gray day. Mostly, I just keep driving along. I’ve got a decent gps system. Apparently, I’ve got an endless gas tank. My windshield is mostly bug free. I’m not stopping.