The end of the picture book? Hardly.

I heard the buzz surrounding the New York Times article "Picture Books No Longer A Staple For Children" on kidlit and library list-servs and now I've had a chance read it and think about it. And like most of my colleagues, I'm going to jump in and say, it's wrong. For one, the article seems to assume that the only place one might find a picture book for their child to read is a bookstore, a bookstore selling only brand new $16.99 picture books. Well, that was the author's first mistake.

Walk into any public library and talk to the people in the children's department or the circulation desk. Picture books circulate like crazy. After DVDs, they are usually one of the most highly circulating items. Picture books will always be purchased as gifts - I've certainly been purchasing 10+ a year for my 2 year old nephew - but when the economy goes south, I think most families of readers have looked at the price tag of picture books (and this is a case where the paperback versions do not stand the test of time and are hard to look through in any shelving unit) and decided they could go without buying them new. Also, half the time I head into a bookstore looking for a few titles that have been recommended by Horn Book or Booklist, I find they don't even have them and turn to Amazon (all the while wishing I still lived around the corner from the tremendous 57th Street Books).

I also don't buy the either/or argument, based off a few comments from individuals, that parents are en masse telling their kids not to read or look at picture books in favor of easy readers or beginner chapter books. Again, I think back to being at the library just the other day and checking out books to families with new readers. A young girl, about 5 or 6, handed me a stack of 8 books, 4 picture books, 3 easy readers. With no budget limiting them, the kids will choose as many as their little hands (or mom's tote bag) can hold.

The craziness of committee work

I spent a good chunk of this morning filling out nomination forms for Best Fiction for Young Adults. Four, in fact. It had been a while since I nominated some titles and I've had these on my mind. I was really tempted to nominate this one book (which shall not be named) because I'd been growing fonder and fonder of it in my memory. Thankfully, I went back and read my notes. In reading them, it became quiiiiite clear that I enjoyed the book, but did not at all think it was worthy of being nominated. Duly noted!

It's getting to that point in the cycle where I'm edging closer and closer to having read 300 books. It's kind of a marvelous achievement, you would think, but man, I am already thinking about the lovely break I am going to give myself when this year's term ends. I am going to not try to read a book a day. I'm not even going to try to read YA fiction. I'm going to read an adult book or two (Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, if I can stomach it!) and watch my TV shows and, oh yeah, spend time with friends and family. It's been so frantic here in the hours after work, where it's become apparent that my boyfriend and I basically never stop working. Yes, the day job ends, but it's like our day job has created a night job. I'm reading and writing notes, taking a quick break for dinner and a Colbert Report, he's rushing in and out of lab. It's kind of crazy to think how easy our lives were a year ago. When the question was not, Can we please add more hours to the day? but rather, What should we do now?

Before I started my new jobs, I was trying to find a way to fill the time, all the while hoping and wishing with every new day that it might bring the news I so want to hear: a call or email from an agent. Now, I haven't given up on that search, but it's something I approach with both excitement and trepidation. I cannot imagine adding editing or any other work to my already overflowing daily responsibilities! ::Gulp::

Where did she go?

I take a two week blogging hiatus and suddenly my blog has more hits than ever before (thanks to a certain photo of Tim Riggins, clearly, an in-demand kind of thing). I've found myself a bit overwhelmed with stuff to do after starting my new jobs. I had to run over to a delightful stationary store this morning in order to get more organized. My to-do lists scrawled in my too-small yearly organizer were too much to handle, so I've gone ahead and bought a much bigger organizer for 2011 and a supplementary, beautiful clairefontaine notebook to get me by until then.

The struggle has switched from finding a balance between writing (and everything that goes along that while trying to get published) and reading my committee work, to still trying to find time for those things now that I'm settling in at my two new jobs, which add up to 40 hours a week. A challenge indeed but one that I am up to!

Whenever I start to think about how it will be hard to find time for everything, I think about my alter-ego, Jennifer Lynn Barnes, who has managed to write many books while in college and graduate school. She makes me (and many other people) look like complete slackers.

Anyway, hoping to get some of the reading under control this weekend, taking advantage of the fact that the Red Sox are pretty much certainly out of the playoffs. Ideally, I'd like to finish 4 books this weekend, go apple picking, write at least 10 pages on my new WIP so I have SOMETHING for critique group next week, and watch Temple Grandin. Probably will need to back away from the computer to make it all happen.

Book Review - Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly

Talented musician Andi has not recovered from her younger brother Truman's death. More than a year later, she's still reeling, dependent on pills to get through every day. Her only solace is music, in all its varieties, from classical to the Decemberists to Radiohead to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  When her father comes to Brooklyn and sees the situation Andi and her mother (who relentlessly paints portraits of Truman) are in, he takes Andi with him to Paris and sends her mother away for intensive treatment. But a change of scenery doesn't take away Andi's pain, and all she wants to do is return to Brooklyn and rescue her mother.

At her father's friends' place in Paris, she comes upon the diary of Alex, a teenage girl living during the French Revolution. It's the one thing that offers her some kind of escape, someone else in the throes of unbelievable suffering and horror, whose relationship with a ten year old future king Louis-Charles very much mirror's Andi's relationship to her brother. The more Andi finds out about Alex, the more she is intrigued. And she's not sure if it's the pills she pops or something else, but there are these moments when she feels like Alex is calling out to her, begging for her story to be told, to be resolved, for the mystery of Louis-Charles to be solved.


Jennifer Donnelly's latest book is absolutely brilliant.  Clocking in at just under 500 pages, this story absolutely warrants the length of the book.  There's so much that happens as Andi and Alex's story become intertwined, never mind the economy of language. Donnelly has clearly done her research to make Andi's musical interests complex, compelling, and so real. The characters, from Andi and Alex, to Andi's parents, to Andi's friend Vijay, are well-developed and all interesting in their own right. This book will definitely be getting some worthy Printz consideration and I feel so lucky to have been able to read an advanced copy.

Definitely one of my favorite books of the year. Also, the first time I ever read a book at a baseball game. (I intended only to read in between innings but towards the end I was incapable of putting it down!)

Putting my eggs in a lot of baskets

Every time I let a query out loose into the world (or realistically, into an agent or assistant's mailbox) I acknowledge that I've done everything I can. Whatever happens happens. It's a kind of zen moment, not unlike the way, all through junior high, high school, and college, I took that deep breath as the exams were handed out. I had done all I could to prepare; whatever happens happens.

I've been realizing that for all the research I do, querying is still a complete crap shoot. Agents that were interested in my last book? Well, by and large, they aren't interested in this one. And the agents that rejected my last manuscript? Well, okay, some of them definitely rejected this one. But a good deal (at least 4) that rejected my last book off the query are now requesting my new manuscript. And with enthusiasm!

As a result, I've been keeping my basket pretty full of eggs. Every time a rejection comes in, I send off one to two queries. I have four fulls out with agents at the moment, a number that makes me feel really good... until a few days pass and I start anxiously checking my email.

Luckily, at least for the rest of today and tomorrow, I've got a fabulous book to keep me busy (at least until the top of every hour, when I check my email): Jennifer Donnelly's Revolution. I picked up an ARC at Annual and had been holding off starting it because I wanted to read it over a few days when I could really savor its 470-something pages. So far, so sooo good.

Massive Disappointment

I don't usually post negative reviews here, but I have to admit that I just read what very quickly and easily became my LEAST favorite read of 2010.  I was on my way up to Montreal for the weekend and to ensure that reading happened, I brought along only books that I had to read (i.e. Best Fiction for Young Adults nominations). And I started reading the one that looked the most exciting. Oh boy, did I make a mistake.

The book that massively disappointed me debuted on the New York Times bestseller list, so it's probably not in any danger. Also, one of its two co-authors is mega famous, which probably won't hurt matters. I'm looking at you, James Frey.

The book in question is I Am Number Four by Pittacus Lore (a pseudonym for James Frey and a co-author). I kind of wish the book had been written by an actual alien. Because maybe then it would have been written in a language that I am not able to read.  I Am Number Four has an interesting premise-- I'll give it that. Apparently Hollywood gave it that as well, because Michael Bay is producing the film version. The book supposes that when the planet Lorien was being invaded by Magadorians, nine young children escaped and made it to the United States, along with the Lorien guardians. But the children were bound together by a really stupid--if you want to know what I truly think--curse. They can only be killed in order (Two could not die before One, etc). When the book starts, Three has been killed.  Number Four, or known by the citizens of a small town called Paradise, Ohio, as John Smith.

If you're thinking John Smith isn't exactly original, well, you're onto something. The whole book suffers from "isn't exactly original." While there are some truly exciting action scenes at the end around the 400 page mark, the rest is highly predictable and extremely boring. John Smith falls for the waify blonde at school and any time they speak, I felt the need to find a spoon to gag myself with. It was that bad. John Smith (Number Four) finds out that his special skill is he is essentially fireproof. So of course his girlfriend gets stuck in the basement of a house on fire.

Let it be known that I went into this book with an open mind. I wanted to be entertained on the five and a half hour drive to Montreal. I didn't think that this entertainment would come in the form my dramatic readings of many a ridiculously cliched passage. Then again, I had a niggling doubt ever since the major typo on the first page of the first chapter ("blxew" instead of "blew") that this one may not have received the editorial attention that it needed. You know, because it really should've just been a script for the movie.

This is one of those rare books where I guarantee the movie will be better the book. It cannot possibly be worse.

On surprises

I've been hesitant to write too much about my manuscript on this blog, but I think it's finally time. Yesterday was a bit of a doozy. It seems that agents are finally coming back from their summer vacations and ready to send out all those rejections. I was getting a little far away from modesty a few weeks ago, with 7 out of 10 responding agents requesting to see more (6 full manuscript requests, one partial request).

Well, this week isn't going like that at all. Yesterday I received a very nice, personalized rejection to a full request. And I guess I forget what it feels like -- especially as more time goes on and I started to wonder how things might turn out -- to be let down. It's crushing, frankly. And while there were glimmers of promise in the rejection (as in, the agent had nice things to say about my protagonist -- another agent, responding from a partial request, couldn't stop telling me how much he did not care for my protagonist!), I read the one line I dreaded. The agent mentioned that the fact that my book deals with the Iraq War would make it difficult to place with a publisher.

I guess this is the time to say it. My book is about a teenage anti-war activist finding out that her idol, her uncle, has died protesting the Iraq War. It shatters her worldview and puts her on a quest (okay, a road trip) to find out more about this man, because she's terrified at the idea that she might one day end up in his shoes. Now, based on my query letter, it's pretty obvious that the book deals with the Iraq War. Is it going to be my albatross?

I sincerely, sincerely hope not. On the one hand, it's kind of hard to believe that possibly the precise thing that catches an agents' eye (i.e. that the book has that kind of real world relevancy) would be what sinks it. I'd have to think that most agents who request the book aren't already thinking that they have no hope in finding a market for it. Otherwise, why would they have requested it?  Meanwhile, in the same week where this full rejection came in, I've also been hammered with rejections. Nine rejections in a row! I'm almost (she writes, while checking her email every ten minutes) leery of checking my email, my inbox seeming so chocked full of disappointment.

But then last night I remembered something. I was out at the Druid participating in their weekly Wednesday trivia with some friends. I love trivia, and so I was having a great time despite the fact that our team was not doing very well after the first two rounds. We just let go of it and put it all on the line in the last bonus question, in the last round. We risked 20 points (knowing we had very little chance of winning either way), hedging our bets that the license plate with a blue background and gold (eh, yellow really) lettering is Delaware's. After a tie-breaker question, the trivia announcer starts reading off where the teams finished.  With the exception of the top three teams, he reads the team names and points out in random order. One after another, a team is named, a score is announced. Our score, which I've tabulated on the handy sheet, is higher than them, still higher.  He reads third place. We're still higher. And second place. And still our team has not been named. But the tie breaker? We shoot glances at each other across the table. No freaking way. And the winner is.... SUKI!  We scream! We won?!??!

There were so many silly things we got wrong or didn't wager smartly on (Charlottetown is in Prince Edward Island, not Nova Scotia --- clearly, despite all of my Anne of Green Gables knowledge, that was a major gaffe on my part; also, paramecium, John Grisham, etc, etc.). But we didn't give up. We stuck around, we scored 39 points in the last round. We won.  We've been to two trivia nights there now, and we won both times (albeit in very different fashions).

And so I guess this is what I come away with, thinking about rejection, about winning and losing, about sheer surprises. You do it because you love it (writing, trivia). And you keep putting yourself out there. I really believe in miraculous surprises. And I believe in my book. And I'm nowhere near done querying.