Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The Write Song

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by Lupe Fernandez

Among the songs that inspire me to work on my YA manuscript, I listen to “I Can’t Get Next To You.” Released in 1969, this number one single was recorded by The Temptations for Motown Records. After the dynamic intro, the first line is “I can turn the gray sky blue.” The singers, voices ranging up and down the scale, falsetto to basso, list the various miracles the song’s persona can perform, such building a castle from a grain of sand, sailing a ship on dry land, flying like a bird, turning a river into fire, or controling seasons and time. Alas, the song’s persona is unhappy because all his power cannot make a certain girl love him.

In my manuscript, a fifth grader teams up with a boy shaman to earn the love of girl in his class. Though the boy shaman possesses great power to “Make the seasons change/Just by wavin' my hand,” he resists helping the fifth grader, who is desperate for the love of the prettiest girl in his class.

Sensory details come to mind. Longing is the clank of a chain link fence on a empty playground, the sour taste of old milk, the stink of urinal cakes in the boys’ room, the painful splinter from a tan bark chip, construction paper red of an empty Valentine card.

The gusty delivery of “I Can’t Get Next To You” reminds me that great abilities pale in comparison to love, even for a fifth grade boy living in 1973.

“Unimportant are all the things I can do.
'Cause I can't get next to you.”

Don’t take my word for it, have a listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQ5bHts9dNA

Friday, November 20, 2009

New First Lines

6 comments
by Susan Berger

I posted the answers for the last group of first lines and forgot to post any new lines. (Too involved in NanoWriMo story/) Here is a new group of first lines. Won’t you please send me some of your favorite first lings and also the first line of an unpublished story of your own? You can reach me at sueberger3@aol.com.

How many have these books have your read? Which ones would you like to try?
1.Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares.

2. The galaxy is an awfully big place so I don't expect you to know about my home world, Harmony; but my ancestors came from Earth.

3. Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it.
3a."Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.
4. It was a clear sparkling winter’s day.
5. Sylvester lived with his mother and father at Acorn Avenue in Oatsdale. One of his hobbies was collecting pebbles of unusual shape and color.

6. David’s Mom always said…”No David.”

7. The principal's office was becoming way too familiar. Tasha rubbed her sore knuckles and wished she was invisible.

8. In the biggest, brownest muddiest river in all Africa, two crocodiles lay with their heads just above the water. One of the crocodiles was enormous. The other was not so big.
9. Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.

10. “There are dragons in the twin’s vegetable garden.” Meg Murray took her head out of the refrigerator where she had been foraging for an after-school snack, and looked at her six-year-old brother. “What?”

11. Are you there God? It’s me Margaret. We’re moving today. I’m so scared God. I’ve never lived anywhere but here. Suppose I hate my new school? Suppose everyone there hates me? Please help me God. Don’t let New Jersey be too horrible. Thank you.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Author's for Last Week's First Lines

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by Susan Berger

1. Once upon a time, like now, and in a place like here, there existed a crooked house. The house at 33 Gooch Street was decrepit beyond description. If it could walk, it would limp. If it could talk, it would stutter. If it could smile, it would have rotting teeth. You get the picture.
The Outlandish Adventures of Libby Aimes by Kelly Easton

2. TUESDAY EVENING, AROUND EIGHT.
Tuesday written and illustrated by David Weisner

3. The stars are made of lemon juice and rain makes applesauce
Rain Makes Applesauce by Julien Scheer, Illustrated by Marvin Billeck

4. Marcus swished his black wooden cane over the kitchen island and knocked my breakfast off the counter.
Thirteen Black Cats by Sarah Laurenson (Unpublished as of now)

5. One morning not long ago, Trixie took a walk with her Daddy
Knuffle Bunny Too written and illustrated by Mo Willems

6. Simon Glass was easy to hate.
Shattering Glass by Gail Giles

7. If you asked the kids and the teachers at Lincoln Elementary School to make three lists – all the really bad kids, all the really smart kids and all the really good kids-Nick Allen would not be on any of them. Nick Allen deserved a list all of his own and everybody knew it.
Frindle by Andrew Clements


8. “Lot ninety seven,” the auctioneer announced. “A boy.”
Citizen of the Galaxy by Robert Heinlein

9. One hundred thirty-six days before the week before I left my family and Florida and the rest of my minor life to go to boarding school in Alabama, my mother insisted on throwing me a going-away party.
Looking for Alaska by John Green

10. It was late one winter night, long past my bedtime, when Pa and I went owling.
Owl Moon by Jane Yolen. Illustrated by John Schoenherr

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Kids, Don't Try This at Home

4 comments

by Lupe Fernandez

Our tale begins thus: I’m going to Mexico to research a memoir manuscript about my father. I bought a high definition video camera for my upcoming trip. The video camera works great. The editing software doesn’t. After uninstalling the video editing software, my pc no longer recognizes the disc drives. I consult the all-knowing internet and find instructions for editing a Registry file. The Registry file has nothing to do with registering gifts for weddings. After editing the Registry file to gain access to my disk drives, I discover my pc no longer recognizes my mouse and keyboard. No clicking. No typing. No writing.

Now I, Mr. Always on Time to My Critique Group Always Turns in Pages on Schedule, will not be able to prepare posts for scheduled publishing during the time I’m on vacation. I’m always early. I’m always on time. I have one work for this frustration: MALGURK! Obsessed with my inoperative computer, I can’t concentrate on writing on that low tech medium called paper.

What? Write long hand, with my sloppy cursive handwritten that rivals attorneys and doctors in its decipherability?

How I long for the clack of the keyboard, the stale scent of dust drawn by the monitor’s electrostatic charge, the smooth grip of the mouse, the chime sound of new e-mail.

I’m taking my pc to a computer shop this for repairs, and I promise on the life of my writing, I will never, I repeat, never edit the Registry file again, so long as I live.

I planned to post some thoughts about Art versus Commerce, but this diatribe about wetware (my brain) versus software (my computer) will have to suffice.

So kids, if you’ve learning anything from this technological tale of woe…

…don’t edit the Registry file. Don’t even think about it. Forget that I ever wrote about the Registry file. Strike the word from the mind. Clearing my mind….clearing my mind…clearing my mind….that !#!$#%& file.

How am I writing this post, you ask, if my computer is inoperable? I rely on the good graces of computer compatriots. In the future, I may use the public library computers, but I’ll be sure to wash my hands afterward. So many fingers. So many keys. Who knows where they’ve all been?

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Monkey Business- How and Why I Write…

2 comments
By Hilde Garcia

Sunday afternoon. I drive my beat up old car. The radio blares a rock station. There are no child car seats in my car, no children, no errands to run. I’m on my way to a writer’s gathering at a local coffee shop.

I will work on my novel. I will partake in writing exercises at the event. I will write this post. I will complete my sentences and I will not be interrupted. I am free for the day.

It feels strange. Something is wrong. Something is missing.

Monkeys.


Monkeys on my back and on my lap and the dog licking my toes. Once a week, I collect my thoughts and put them on paper.
But during the week, I always have one monkey on my neck and one on my lap moving the computer mouse. I write with my arms on either side of boy monkey and try to breath while girl monkey presses down on my throat. The dog faithfully lays at my toes, with an occasional lick.

My challenge is to write even through the constant interruptions, in between mountains of laundry, endless phone calls and play dates and little league practices, in between buying groceries and making dinner. I find my self at the computer at all hours, in five-minute intervals, or writing a great idea on a coupon, hoping I wont loose it on the way home.

I write for my monkeys, Sam and Victoria. I write for the legacy I wish to leave them and because I have so many words that I need to say. I write so that children see themselves in my writing and have heroes they can grow to love.

Being touched by a book like Charlotte’s Web or Anne of Green Gables has left me with a need to pay it forward. Books for me were my ticket to a new way of life. I write so I can offer that ticket to other children.

I write with my monkeys on my back, for those monkeys, for your monkeys, who cannot wait to turn a page and be transported to another world.

I write so that my children can remember me in years to come.

No matter which monkey hangs on my back at any given moment or what coupon I use as note pad, I write best when they hang on me, reminding me why I write.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

The F Word - The Sequel

1 comments
by Lupe Fernandez

I'm not the only who thinks about the F word.
From Narrative:
Letters to a Young Writer
by Robert Olen Butler

Overcoming Failure
Thinking about writing and worried about failing? Then read what Robert Olen Butler has to say to Lauren Birden, who is currently a graduate poetry writing student at Columbia University's School of the Arts.
 
Robert Olen Butler, author of eleven novels and five short story collections, including A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain, which won the 1993 Pulitzer Prize, contributed to Narrative, an online publisher of first-rank fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.

Friday, November 13, 2009

How I Created My Critique Group

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by Hilde Garcia

In June of 2009, an email through SCBWI’s list server caught my attention: Members needed to join existing critique group. I had been searching for a group since February. After finishing the first draft of my first YA novel, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I emailed the person on the SCBWI list. She responded, “We already have twenty four replies. We are thinking about going with the first three, but how to choose?”

Then an inspiration struck. I wrote “Hey, why don’t we send out an invitation for a mixer. Bring two pages of a sample MS. We can go around the room and read them and then see how we all feel.”

Who knew that would have been so beneficial? About 12 people showed up and everyone’s stuff was good. A few other interested writers were out of town.

By the end of the night, we had two distinct critique groups. One group would meet on Tuesday evenings and the other group would meet on Saturdays. The three co-authors of this blog and myself joined the Tuesday group. Who sent the original email? Sue Berger.

Sue took the mixer one step further. When the other 10 people showed up at her place on a Saturday in August, she split those groups into two and divided the writers by genre. One group wrote YA and the other wrote Middle Grad and Picture Books.

The mixer created three critique groups and all are still meeting.

Since July, my Tuesday group has met every other week. We helped each other write amazing revisions. I couldn’t imagine not having them in my life now. (Did I mention they have saved my marriage?)

When my manuscript is published, I will write a long list of acknowledgements, but none will be more special than the three partners in my critique group who create my story with me.

Can’t find a group? Create one. It’s not hard. It’s like going on a date. You have to keep going until you find Mr. or Mrs. Right Group.

Since getting involved can be overwhelming, joining SCBWI Critique Connections Online is a great way to start!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Journey to a Childhood

1 comments
by Lupe Fernandez

“Can I read that when you’re done?” I pleaded with my elen year older brother.

When I was eight, my favorite books were Jerome Beatty Jr’s series: Matthew Looney’s Voyage to the Earth (1961) followed by Matthew Looney's Invasion of the Earth (1965) and Matthew Looney in the Outback (1969).

Let me rephrase the previous sentence. My brother Junior would check the books out from the Hayward Public Library and read them. I would peer over his shoulder and marvel at Gahan Wilson’s illustrations of characters with onion-shaped heads.

“Stop bugging me,” Junior would respond.

Then Junior would chuckle to himself as he recited various names from the book: Professor Ploozer, Hector Hornblower, Robinson K. Russo, Mr. Bones, Wondervon Brown, Wiley Kalmuck, Dr. Leonard D. Davinci and Rear Admiral Lockhard Looney, known to Matthew as Uncle Lucky. Prefixes were added to certain words for a lunar theme, such as molacopter, moonorail and Moonsters.

I would wait until Junior put down the one of the books to pursue some other amusement. Then I would read about the adventures of Mathew Looney, a boy or moonster who lived on the Moon cave with his working-class family.

Mr. Looney expected his son to follow in his moonsteps and work in a powder factory. Instead, young Matthew served as a cabin boy aboard the Mooncraft Ploozer during the First Earth Expeditionary Force to planet Earth, infamous for it’s noxious oxygen atmosphere, deadly water oceans, and obstructing the view of the sun. In the second book, Matthew received a promotion to Spaceman First Class. By the third book, Matthew Looney comanded his own spacecraft and landed in Australia by accident. I marveled at Matthew’s adventures at exotic places like the North Pole, the Florida Everglades, Australia, like Crater Plato – Matthew’s home town - or Palus Somnii, the location of Earth Expeditionary Forces Headquarters.

According to the author’s bio, “These books are an attempt by Mr. Beatty to answer for himself the question of what the reaction on the Moon might be to our attempts to acquire it phsycially as well as romantically.”

Today, my copy of Matthew Looney's Invasion of the Earth, faded from use and age, smells musty from storage and appears small, almost the width of my extended hand, the spine cracked, the cover worn with gray smudges from peanut butter fingers. As I turn the pages, I journey back to those heady days of yesteryear before Apollo landed on the moon, when all things were possible to this child.

Monday, November 9, 2009

First Lines with Titles and Authors

4 comments
by Sue Berger

These are the New York Times best sellers first lines from last week. I have added the title and the author.

.OTIS, written and illustrated by Loren Long.

“There was once a friendly little tractor.
i.
 ROBOT ZOT!, by Jon Scieszka. Illustrated by David Shannon
“Robot Zot. Wham Bot! Robot Zot. Bam Bot!”
Listen to The Wind by Greg Mortenson, Illustrator Susan Roth

“We are the children of Korphe. We live in a village in the mountains of Pakistan. Our families grow and gather the food we eat.”
Marley Goes to School by John Grogan. Illustrator Richard Crowley

“It was the first day of School and Cassie laid out her back-to-school supplies”
Dewey: There’s a Cat in the Library by Vicky Myron and Brett Witter. Illustrator Steve James

“Every night people left books in the return box in the small town of Spencer, Indiana. Funny books, big books, truck books, pig books – they left them all. But one night, on the coldest night of the year, someone left a strange surprise…A kitten.”
Strega Nona’s Harvest written and illustrated by Tomie de Paola.

“It was Spring and all the snow had melted.”
(Well the author does not need a good first line. Strega Nona is already famous.)
Goldilicious written and illustrated Victoria Kann.

“I was putting flowers on the mane of my pet unicorn.”
Skippyjon Jones Lost in Spice written and illustrated by Judy Schachner

"Skippyjon Jones was nuts about Mars…"
Family Huddle by Peyton, Eli, and Archie Manning. Illustrator Jim Madsen.

"Archie was in the front yard in New Orleans playing with his three sons: Cooper, Peyton, and Eli. It was Peyton’s turn at their favorite game, Amazing Catches"
THE HUNGER GAMES, by Suzanne Collins

“When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping.”
THE MAGICIAN'S ELEPHANT, by Kate DiCamillo and Yoko Tanaka.

“At the end of the Century before last, in the market square in the city of Bahese, there stood a boy with a hat on his head and a coin in his hand.”
TRICKS, by Ellen Hopkins.

“A poem by Eden Streit
Eyes Tell Stories

But do they know how
to craft fiction? Do
they know how to spin
lies?”
ODD AND THE FROST GIANTS, by Neil Gaiman.

“There was a boy called Odd and there was nothing strange or unusual about that, not in that time or place. Odd meant the tip of a blade and it was a lucky name.”
SHIVER, by Maggie Stiefvater

“I remember lying in the snow, a small red spot of warm going cold, surrounded by wolves. “
THE GRAVEYARD BOOK, by Neil Gaiman. Illustrated by Dave McKean.

“There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife.”
SENT, by Margaret Peterson Haddix. (This is a sequel)
“Jonah was falling, tumbling over and over, down and down through nothingness and absence and void.”
GOING BOVINE, by Libba Bray.

“The best day of my life happen when I was five and almost died at Disney World. I am sixteen now so you can imagine that left me with quite a few days of major suckage. “


Here are some more first lines. (and, in some cases, first paragraphs.) You can guess the age range and the author.One of these is a ringer. It is from a book that has not been published yet.

1. “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it."

2. "If your teacher has to die, August isn't a bad time of year for it."

3. "I have been accused of being anal retentive, an over-achiever, and a compulsive perfectionist, like those are bad things."

4. "I come from a family with a lot of dead people"

5. Let me tell you about my angels

6. My mama had a dancing heart and she shared that heart with me.

7. At morning recess, Angel Camacho hid behind a great oak tree and longed for Georgina Cabrillo to notice him.

8. Everybody knows the story of the Three Little Pigs. Or at least they think they do.

9. “Mrs. Eva Marie Olinski always gave good answers. Whenever she was asked how she had selected her team for the Academic Bowl, she chose one of several good answers.”

10. I thought he’d never leave.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Great First Lines

2 comments
Great First Lines.
by Sue Berger

I have seen the slush piles. I once visited Joseph Papp’s office. (Joseph Papp was the producer of the New York Public Theatre and the New York Shakespeare Festival.) There were at least 15 piles of scripts stack four feet high. One pile bore the label “These writers should be strung up by their thumbs and forced never to write again.”

I have never been in an editor’s office, but I have heard the slush piles are similar to the Papp Office.

There are thousands of writers submitting daily to a limited number of editors and agents. If you do not capture them in the first paragraph, you are slush.

I spend a lot of time looking at other writer’s first lines. The following lines and paragraphs from the New York Times Best Seller “Picture Book list” and “Chapter Book list.”
“We are the children of Korphe. We live in a village in the mountains of Pakistan. Our families grow and gather the food we eat.”

“It was the first day of School and Cassie laid out her back-to-school supplies”

“The best day of my life happen when I was five and almost died at Disney World. I am sixteen now so you can imagine that left me with quite a few days of major suckage. “

“Every night people left books in the return box in the small town of Spencer, Indiana. Funny books, big books, truck books, pig books – they left them all. But one night, on the coldest night of the year, someone left a strange surprise…A kitten.”

“It was Spring and all the snow had melted.”

“I remember lying in the snow, a small red spot of warm going cold, surrounded by wolves. “

“Skippyjon Jones was nuts about Mars…”

"Archie was in the front yard in New Orleans playing with his three sons: Cooper, Peyton, and Eli. It was Peyton’s turn at their favorite game, Amazing Catches."

“Robot Zot. Wham Bot! Robot Zot. Bam Bot!”

“When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping.”

“I was putting flowers on the mane of my pet unicorn.”

“At the end of the Century before last, in the market square in the city of Bahese, there stood a boy with a hat on his head and a coin in his hand.”

“A poem by Eden Streit
Eyes Tell Stories
But do they know how
to craft fiction? Do
they know how to spin
lies?”
“There was once a friendly little tractor. His name was Otis and every day Otis and his farmer worked together taking care of the farm they called home.”
"There was a boy called Odd and there was nothing strange or unusual about that, not in that time or place. Odd meant the tip of a blade and it was a lucky name.”
“There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife.”

“Jonah was falling, tumbling over and over, down and down through nothingness and absence and void.”
Every one of these lines sold a book. Which of these makes you want to read them? Next week I will put up this list with the authors and titles. I will be putting up new first lines every week. I will start with my favorites. Feel free to send me yours.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

The 5 Ways A Critique Group Benefits My Writing

3 comments
I’m a wife, mom of five year old twins, President of their preschool, Sunday softball player and a writer of a young adult novel. Why and how does a critique group fit into my schedule?

The 5 Ways A Critique Group Benefits My Writing
by Hilde Garcia

1- SCHEDULE

I‘ve made a commitment to meet twice a month. I honor my word and submit pages for review. I meet my deadline. A deadline, like the deadline an editor gives for a revision, keeps me honest. The process of writing and revising is an on-going one.

 My critique group helps me meet my goals.

2- OPINIONS

These are good things! I have three or four people reading my MS with varied perspectives. Each mind focuses on a certain aspect. One member might notice all the grammar or structure, another might notice if I’m being true to my characters, and yet another person might ask the questions of why this or why that.

When I review the comments, I find a precise place to begin revising.

3- SUPPORT

Many times I feel that I can’t revise. When a first draft looms ominously, I would much rather do the dishes, eat a pint of ice cream or watch TV. However, I have a group of people who are as invested as I am in seeing a finished product, I write through those “dark” moments.

My group keeps me focused.

4- INFORMATION

Every person in my critique group has valuable information about the business of writing, about classes or exercises that will work. Their varied backgrounds in writing help me figure out submission guidelines. They can also suggest further reading, which is very helpful. These areas increase my writing knowledge.

The multitude of ideas strengthens my writing.

5- FRIENDSHIP

Many pursuits in life are solitary ones. Writing is usually considered one of them. A critique group offers me a chance to make friends, create a network of support, stay on schedule and learn to listen to opinions and criticisms in a safe environment. When I venture out into the actual world of submissions, rejections deadlines and editors, I will actually be able to approach them with ease, confidence and grace.

My critique group offers me a good head start.

Excited about Critique Groups? Want to find one? Check out… SCBWI Critique Connections. http://www.scbwisocal.org/ Click on For Writers and then select Critique Connections.

Next week, I will share with you how I formed my group and some helpful critique tips.