Books for kids, teens, & those who are young at heart
I was curious to see how the readers of my blog (all four of you!) know me. Plus, I wanted to try out the poll option. Here’s to you!
(This originally appeared when my blog was still on Blogger and clearly didn’t transfer over to WordPress…I guess we’ll never know how the poll turned out!)
My picture made someone else’s blog! Wow, I’m almost famous! Lisa Yee is a YA author who presented at the conference. Check out the second picture on this post to see me attending her session on revision.
What you can’t find me? I’m all the way over to the right…the blonde in the bluish/green sweater…okay, so really about a quarter of me is cut off, but I’m still mostly in the picture. Well it was fun for me to see it, so I don’t care if you don’t care!
Here are a few more conference tidbits for you to ponder:
Leonard Marcus (from his speech “Advice from a Legendary Editor: Ten Invaluable Lessons About Making Great Children’s Books”)
Dilys Evans (from a panel discussion called “All About Agents”)
Lisa Yee (from her session “ReVision, reviSion, Revision”)
All the following are from the panel discussion called “Emerging Editorial Voices”:
(Namrata Tripathi discussing advice from her mentor Brenda Bowen)
(Gretchen Hirsch discussing advice from her mentor Allyn Johnston)
(Krista Marino discussing advice from her mentor Beverly Horowitz)
Ponder away!
I went to L.A. for a writing conference, so I basically spent four days listening to speeches and attending sessions about writing. (Fear not nonwriters–this post won’t strictly be about writing.) I took a ton of notes and observed many little gems of wisdom.
I was frantically trying to record everything, but I wasn’t quick enough to always get direct quotations. Some of these may be actual quotations, but more likely I’ve paraphrased them. Still, I’ve cited the speaker and talk in which each was written.
Here are some gems that I think not only apply to writing, but can also be useful in everyday life:
Bruce Coville (from his speech “The Art of the Heart: Writing True for the Child”)
Mark Teague (from his speech “My 20 Years in Children’s Books: A Survivor’s Tale”)
Margaret Peterson Haddix (from her speech “Dig In”–this was advice from her ski instructor, which just goes to show how universal these thoughts are)
Arthur Levine (from his speech “Picture Books Live! An Analysis of Success”)
Elizabeth Law (from a panel discussion called “Today in Children’s Publishing”)
These don’t even take us halfway through the conference, so I’m sure I’ll have more once I finish transcribing my notes. Besides, I think that’s enough to contemplate for one day!
The major cities I’ve been to include New York, Boston, Washington D.C., Miami, and London, and it was finally time for me to see what Los Angeles had to offer. Seeing as I spent most of my time in the bottom floors of a large, climate-controlled hotel, my visit to L.A. wasn’t as immersive as some of my other trips. Even still, I formed plenty of opinions on the city (of course!).
My plane took off in the early evening (East Coast time) and followed the setting sun west. We chased it across the country in an everlasting sunset until it dipped below the horizon and the quiet night caught up with us. I almost believed the enduring sunlight was a metaphor for how my trip would turn out—forgive me for my weak moment of Romanticism. If I had been thinking clearly, I would’ve realized the darkness would eventually come, and then my metaphor wouldn’t have seemed so optimistic.
It didn’t matter anyway because as the plane approached LAX and descended into a smoky, black cloud, all my sappy thoughts were quickly dispelled. At first I thought it was a storm cloud, but underneath it there was no lightning or rain, and then I realized it must be a smog cloud. I wondered what sort of unseen storm the smog was unleashing, and what impact it would have on my lungs.
Despite the smog, the city appears to be quite health-conscious. The Westfield mall that is across the street from the hotel (which shows what a small world it is because there is a Westfield mall about five minutes from my house in Connecticut) has an interesting food court. All eat-in food is served on real dishes, and the drinks come in real glasses. The mall near my house almost always serves the food and drinks (eat-in or take-out) in disposable containers.
The food selection is also on the healthier side. As I walked across the food court with my tray of pizza and orange soda, I got the feeling that people were staring at me in disdain (like I’m a bad person for eating something so greasy and delicious). Even the shelves of the grocery store are filled with all kinds of health foods that are usually only found in small, specially marked sections in the grocery stores I frequent.
My favorite indication of the differences in lifestyles between East and West Coast occurred during one of the conference sessions. (Did I forget to mention I was there for a writing conference?). An editor from New York mentioned how she often munches on fried-egg sandwiches while reading manuscripts. The moderator of the discussion said something like, “That’s a very East Coast thing to say.” Then she joked that an editor in California would be more likely to review manuscripts over a soy burger (ew!).
The soy-burger comment was made in good fun, but I couldn’t help but feel it legitimized my insecurities of walking through the food court. I was all alone, holding food that told everyone I wasn’t from around here, wearing clothes and sunglasses that weren’t designer brands, and feeling like it was my first day at a new school and I had no one to sit with in the cafeteria. At least I had remembered to take off my name badge…that would’ve really showed them what a nerd I am.
Last week I went to Yankee Stadium to watch the Bronx Bombers play the Minnesota Twins. There wasn’t anything particularly significant about this game. It wasn’t against a noteworthy rival, nor was it at a pivotal point in the season. It was simply a midsummer’s game on a Tuesday evening.
There are a few essentials for a game at Yankee Stadium: a hot dog and beer (which will only cost you $14.50, your left arm, and your first-born son), the reliable voice of Bob Shepperd (whose career as announcer has lasted more than two of my lifetimes), and the boisterous bleacher creatures (who are incredibly organized when it comes to chanting out the names of the Yankees’ starters—I would be very scared if this group ever decided to use their ability to rally folks for something useful) to name a few.
Then there’s always that fan who is so annoying that by the end of the game you want to ring his neck—or your own—just to put you out of your misery. When we first sat down, my brother and I found our prime candidate: a young boy, maybe about seven or eight (I know, how mean to pick on a little kid). But this kid was seriously annoying. He asked more questions than I thought humanly possible. In fact, I think every sentence out of his mouth was a question. Now I’m all for encouraging kids to explore and think and ask questions, but this was ridiculous.
“Who are the Yankees playing?” The Twins. “What are those things on the field?” Portable cages. “Why are they there?” To protect the players in the field during batting practice. “What’s the score?” The game hasn’t started yet, so it’s 0-0. “What time is it?” 6:54. “Who’s Babe Ruth?” He was a baseball player. “Is he playing today?” No, he’s dead. “Who’s that on the screen?” Derek Jeter. “Is Derek Jeter dead?” No, he’s the shortstop. “What’s a shortstop?”
The questions went on and on and on. I mean had this kid ever even seen a baseball game on TV? After about ten minutes of this, my brother and I were about ready to jump off the upper deck. Anything to make it stop!
Thankfully, we realized we were sitting in the wrong seats and quickly moved one section to the right. In our new seats, the only obnoxious fan we had to deal with was some annoying guy from California who was obsessed with Goose Gossage. For all his enthusiasm, he wasn’t very smart, and he was a bit drunk. He informed us that it took a lot of guts to name your kid Goose (even though Goose Gossage’s real first name is Richard and Goose is just a nickname…but really, this was guy a huge Yankee fan!).
Like I said, the game was nothing particularly special. But maybe it meant a little more to a few of the fans. It was the first time my three-year-old niece had ever been to Yankee Stadium. And it may have been the last time some of us will ever set foot in this Yankee Stadium because pretty soon the House That Ruth Built will be torn down.
I guess the new Yankee Stadium will be state-of-the-art with all kinds of food stalls and really clean bathrooms and all, but what about all the history and memories? Yankee Stadium is where my dad, my brother, and I sat in the bleachers and watched Aaron Boone hit a walk-off homerun in the bottom of the eleventh inning in game seven of the 2003 ALCS. This game gave me a glimpse of my dad as a kid, the way he chose just the right moments to flip his hat to the rally position, only to quickly flip it back when it wasn’t needed so as not to abuse the privilege.
I can’t help but be a little sad that Yankee Stadium is going to be destroyed…out with the old, in with the new. The mystique of an 85-year-old baseball icon reduced to a pile of debris.
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