This past weekend, when William Hickman found himself in a life threatening situation he did what any terrific teen should, he asked himself “What would Bobby Pendragon do?” William, remembering his fictional hero’s many dangerous escapades, kept himself feet first in the river current and aimed for the bank. He was able to grab onto a rock just meters before being swept almost certainly to his death over a 100 meter waterfall.
Really, that William survived his ordeal is a testament to the skill and dedication of his rescuers as much as anything else. They worked for over eight hours in the cold and dark to bring William to safety, even camping out with him once he was lifted from the river, because it was too late to hike out of the forest. What an adventure!
William, on the other hand, gets a big thumbs up for keeping his cool, thinking fast and being a boy who reads! On ya, William. You’re terrific!
Okay, students, we get it. You hate the books you’re assigned to read. No, don’t be polite, tell us how you really feel . I sympathize. I had to read THE PEARL in high school too. Are you all right? You look pale. Let me get you a drink of water. Why, yes, you heard right. They were torturing kids with John Steinbeck’s most depressing book when I was in high school too -THIRTY YEARS AGO. Some kids at my school were luckier. They read THE OUTSIDERS. What’s that you say? They forced you to read THE OUTSIDERS too? Wow, lucky you. You got to read a novel as old as me written by a girl as young as you. Mmmmm…edulicious.
I’m sorry, I didn’t get that, I couldn’t quite hear through your wracking sobs. What did you say? What do you mean “more recent books”? Who is Hannah Moskowitz? John Green? Who’s that? Markus Zusak? Cory Doctorow? Laurie Halse-Anderson? Ellen Hopkins? Walter Dean-Myers? Who are all these people? Stop it! You’re freaking me out! Are you telling me that OTHER BOOKS suitable for teaching in school have been released in the past forty years? I don’t believe it.
And anyway, what are you complaining about? Being forced to read depressing books that don’t interest you and that you don’t like is just part of life. Why just the other day one of my husband’s clients said to him: “I’d love to get this contract signed for you so we can begin designing the interface, but before I’m willing to do that, I really need you to read A FINE BALANCE by Rohinton Mistry. It’s just part of our standard operating procedure. You understand. Oh, and I’ll be testing you on symbolism and the depiction of colonial violence.”
And the other day, the contractor who is rebuilding the front porch he tore apart informed me that he expected a ten page report on ANNA KARININA along with this month’s check. My doctor made me analyse three Sylvia Plath poems before she would do my pap exam. I made my waitress at The Boathouse recite “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” before I tipped her. Heck, my whole block had to read and discuss JUDE THE OBSCURE before the city would fix a burst water main. That was a hell of a week.
Sigh.
You know what teachers, schools and schools boards? Treat teens like adults and let them choose their own damn books.
Let’s face it, bullying is really a young person thing. I know adults bully and get bullied, but for most decent people, by the time we reach our thirties we’re just too damn tired to bully anyone, or to care when someone is being an a$$hole. When you’re an adult, you can often walk away. Sometimes you can’t, and we strive to have programs in place (restraining orders for example) that give the victims of adult bullying some form of protection.
All too often, that protection or that escape is not available to young people. They are trapped in zoos with the zookeepers claiming to have no power over 95% of the horrible things that kids do to each other. In the real world, the adult world, these bullies would lose their jobs and have no friends. In many cases they would be sued. Yes, sued, for libel, defamation, breach of contract, sexual harassment and any number of other things.
I have suggested before that children behave immaturely because of the way we treat them. If children are treated like adults, they will learn to behave like adults. So what better way to send a message to high school bullies than by treating them as an adult would be treated under the same circumstances. This is just what Alex Boston and her parents are doing. They are suing Alex’s bullies for libel, defamation and identity theft (the bullies created a fake and offensive Facebook page in Alex’s name). I hope these filthy mouthed little teenaged muck slingers grow up fast as a result of being sued. I hope they have to shell out all their babysitting money and then some. Welcome to the real world mean girls.
Here’s the blurb: Rosie and her family’s financial problems find them living in the most unexpected of places a treehouse, on the estate of Great-Great-Aunt Lydia. Not that Rosie minds, at first. The treehouse is awesome – bigger than some apartments, with a great view, and full of fresh air. Plus it’s located in a fancy neighborhood. But after a summer of fun on the treehouse grounds, things get complicated. Rosie’s new school friends all live in mansions; suddenly the treehouse looks pretty pathetic. How can she seriously expect to fit in when her “house” doesn’t even have running water? One little lie seems to help, at first, but pretty soon Rosie is keeping secrets from her family, bribing her little sister, and lying to her new best friend. As the school year drags on, every day presents a new challenge. When things finally reach the boiling point thanks to the famous spring rummage sale” fundraiser Rosie learns that lying is not the answer, and that sometimes help comes from the least likely places.
So, the above blurb leaves out what I think it the best part of this book – the mystery surrounding Great Aunt Lydia and the family feud that led Rosie’s family to end up in the treehouse and not the mansion. The way that Rosie follows the clues she finds about the Aunt who seems not to want to know her, are the most appealing part of her character and I loved how this is something Rosie and her new friend bond over.
I also loved the treehouse. I’m a big fan of “survival” stories, as I’ve mentioned before, and though this is not strictly speaking a survival story, I loved all the details on how they made living in the treehouse work. However, it seemed a little extreme, and I found myself questioning the plausibility of two reasonably sensible parents (they are both PhD students) making their young daughters live through the winter in Vancouver in an unheated, un- insulated home. This made me lose sympathy for them. I think maybe a bit more background about the parents might have made this seem more acceptable.
For what it is, this is a pretty long book, just over 60,000 words with a reading level of 4.6. The way the story was told felt like lower middle grade, so the reading level is fine, for age typical readers, but perhaps a bit long.
For this week I can’t wait to read THE OBSIDIAN BLADE by Pete Hautman. I really enjoyed his book GODLESS and this one sounds, frankly, amazing: Kicking off a riveting sci-fi trilogy, National Book Award winner Pete Hautman plunges us into a world where time is a tool – and the question is, who will control it? I’m pushing this one up to the top of my list!
For more Marvelous Middle Grade Monday fun check these blogs:
Back in March, Jodi Meadows, the author of INCARNATE tweeted “Colored pencils should be easier to erase”. Now I know she meant “they should be easier to erase than they are”, because let’s face it, they are unholy hard to erase. But how I read it was “They should be easier to erase than regular lead pencils”. And I found that kind of profound. I tweeted her so, of course to which she replied “sage nod”.
So what is profound about that? It’s funny how sometimes a whole new universe of understanding can pop out of one little phrase. “Colored pencils should be easier to erase.” What my mind immediately jumped to was that they should be easier to erase than lead pencils because to use them suggests more of a commitment, represents more of a risk. Any schmuck can doodle with a lead pencil. We’ve all done it all over the margins of our math homework and on library tables. But colored pencils are a whole other thing. You’re not just doodling with colored pencils, you’re drawing. There are more ways you can go wrong with a colored pencil. As anyone who has ever tried to draw with them knows, it’s hard, much harder than with a lead pencil. And mistakes are easily made, but not easily unmade. Where is the reward for the extra bravery it took to choose colored pencils in the first place? Those who venture into colored pencil land should be granted a couple of extra do-overs. Life is so unfair.
For some reason, today, this made me think of my short story, written in grade eleven, The Seventh Grade. As a rather lengthy aside I should point out that for those of you who are interested, this story can be found here, not only in the original English, but also translated into Chinese. How and why it was translated into Chinese and uploaded to the web is something of a mystery. Suffice it to say, I was never paid Chinese money for this story, which I wrote in 1983, at least ten years before the Internet came into public use. Long story short, I think I’ve become a Chinese bootleg, like that Return of the King DVD my friend sent me from Hong Kong and my NOT Prada handbag.
Anyway, back to my story. Interestingly, to me anyway, this story was maybe the first thing I ever wrote that wasn’t in some way religious. In grade five I wrote this poem, for example:
Listen, listen, what do you hear?The sound of God talking, deep in your ear.The sound of the angels singing in choirTheir beautiful voices sing higher and higherThe sound of …
Urgh. I can’t go on. You get the idea. Then I wrote a short story about Jesus looking through a window and another one about dying and eternity, or something; it’s possible they were both the same story. I also wrote a sci-fi-ish kind of thing in which a human meets an alien on another planet and waxes poetic on the way home about being like Noah’s dove and how Columbus means dove and how Columbus discovered America and she had discovered another planet and so on. As you can see there was all kinds of wrongness in my education.
In grade eleven, in Mrs. Crooks’s creative writing class, I wrote a short one man play called Whatsoever You Do which is not exactly a bible quote, but is the title of a hymn based on a bible quote (Matthew 25:35-40 for anyone who is interested, or doubts my pedigree). Perhaps this was the last hurrah of a fading belief system because I’m almost certain The Seventh Grade, which has no religion allusions that I can remember, was what I wrote next.
Here’s what you should know about this: up to this point, no one, least of all me, had really thought that anything I wrote was any good. In fact several times I was told that things were not very good. Lots of things I never showed anyone. But for some reason, somewhere along the line, I got it into my head that I was going to enter a short story writing competition. I had, the previous year, wanted to enter the one about Jesus looking through the window (I’m pretty sure it, and a similarly themed painting I did in art class, were inspired by a Pete Townsend song. I was a weird kid) but my teacher at the time told me, and I quote: “It’s not very good.”
Look, I’m sure she was right (this story did not survive the 80’s, much like my sisters purple, black and green Peter Pan boots which were stolen from me at a party, leading my friend Erich to have to carry me out to the car, leading me to fall in love with him, leading to a whole world of pain for me, him and his girlfriend, Rita). The story was probably crap, but “It’s not very good,” is hardly encouraging for a young writer who shows, if not exactly promise, then at least enthusiasm. But I overcame this minor setback, and armed with the things Mrs. Crooks taught me about conflict wrote The Seventh Grade and entered it into the province wide Permanent High School Short Story Contest.
Well, I won the contest. And that should have been a wonderful moment for me. My teachers were proud. The principal was proud. Hell, they announced it over the school PA. My parents were proud, and the prize was $500. In 1983, for a 16 year old girl with a fake ID, this was a lot of money. But it wasn’t a wonderful moment. It was a terrible moment, full of doubt and humiliation, because I didn’t think the story was very good. The story was later awarded another high school writing prize, published in two magazines, used as study materials in at least one school and translated, as I said, into Chinese and I think, included in a book of young Canadian writers published in China.
I still don’t think it’s very good. Read it and judge for yourself. Even for the 16 year old that I was, it’s shit. I kind of hate it. But most of all I hate what it did to me, because after that I didn’t write another short story for nearly ten years. I barely wrote another word. I was, in a word, mortified.
In about 1995 I wrote Hildegarde as a screenplay first. I re-drafted it once and sold the second draft to the first producer who read it. Then I won a national screenwriter development grant for it. I signed with a top agent. I got another development grant. I got a contract to write the novelization.
And I didn’t think it was very good. Don’t get me wrong. I like the movie, and the novel is kind of cute. But I don’t think it is very good. And I want to write something very good.
When you’re drawing with colored pencils, there comes a time when you just have to walk away from your drawing. You can’t erase, you can’t add anything else, you can’t color over mistakes. You just have to live with it the way it is. Even if you don’t think it’s very good. And to me, that’s not fair.
Writing for publication or production takes many things, perseverance, a thick skin, a certain madness, imagination, but above all courage. It takes courage to fill up your page with colored pencils, knowing there comes a point you can’t change anything. Knowing that you will be judged on your colors the way they turn out, not the way you imagine them. Knowing that you can only improve one drawing by starting another one.
We writers can change things, of course we can, but only until our work is published or produced. Then it’s out there. My first published short story contains the phrase “pierced my heart like a dagger”. My “debut” novel is a not very well written novelization of a children’s movie that went direct to DVD. Harper Lee’s debut novel was To Kill a Mockingbird .
Sigh.
Pass me the colored pencils. I’m starting another drawing.
For this week’s Road Trip Wednesday, YA Highway asks “what was the best book you read in April?”. I’ve been having a huge reading month (and a crap writing month but that’s often how it goes). With nearly a week left I have already read fifteen books. There were definitely some standouts and some that didn’t work as well for me.
Interestingly with several of the books I found myself asking the same questions – legal questions. All the below books deal with a crime in one way or another. I don’t want to give any spoilers but some of them left me doubtful about the way the legal response to this crime played out. In several cases I found myself doing Google research to check whether the legal reaction was plausible give the circumstances. In a couple of cases, I don’t think it was.
The book to which I gave the highest Goodreads rating, SPEAK by, Laurie Halse Anderson (five stars!), though it concerned a serious crime, did not include legal ramifications. I suppose that’s because the story was not really about that. Whatever the reason, this was a fantastic book that I devoured in about four hours. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to read it. And I was particularly glad that a great read wasn’t marred by implausible legal outcomes.
This just goes to show how careful you need to be with your research. I know teen readers are probably not quite as skeptical as I am, but a writer should never assume that readers will buy their bullshit, just because it makes the story go where it needs to. When it comes to legal cases, the best thing to do is to consult a lawyer or police officer who works in the district in which your story is set. I know this sounds expensive, but I emailed a New York criminal lawyer, when I was writing a screenplay, and he was tickled to be consulted about criminal law in New York and did it for free.
The other books dealing with crimes were: NOTHING by Janne Teller, GLIMPSE by Carol Lynch Williams, LEAVING PARADISE (Leaving Paradise, #1) by Simone Elkeles, WE WERE HERE, by Matt de la Peña, CRAZY BEAUTIFUL by Lauren Baratz-Logsted, and FORBIDDEN, by Tabitha Suzuma.
There nothing especially terrific about this week’s teen, Misaki Murakami, whose soccer ball was found in Alaska after being washed away in last years’s Japanese tsunami. Murakami seems to be a normal boy, well, except he survived an earthquake and tsunami, I suppose that’s pretty terrific, for him anyway.
But I love this story. I’m sure soccer balls wash out to sea everyday, but how many of them are signed by school children, making them easily identifiable? And how many wash away in horrific natural disasters? And how many are found by kindly Alaskan radar technicians who just happen to be married to a person who can read the writing on the ball? The whole thing is an ad for sporting goods waiting to happen. The Mad Men couldn’t have dreamed up something better.
Anyway, Misaki Murakami, I know you only did what any sensible teen would do and ran like hell to high ground, but you’re terrific anyway. Congratulations on surviving, and on getting your soccer ball back.
Last month Katie Dekoster from Book Love speculated that Novels in Verse (NIVs) were becoming the new vampires. I certainly hope so, since I have one coming out next year and another (the sequel) in 2014.
I’ve written about novels in verse many times on this blog, and people are becoming more familiar with this form. While most of the well-known novels in verses are aimed at YA audiences, there is a good selection of NIVs for middle grade readers too. This week I’d like to highlight three of my favorites.
All of these middle grade NIVS cleverly combine premise and form. Shakespeare Bats Clean-Up by Ron Koertge and Love That Dog by Sharon Creech both feature young male narrators who are reluctantly learning about poetry, while having an archetypal middle grade coming of age. Not that these books are derivative or banal. They are both not only great stories but great learning tools. Shakespeare Bat Clean-Up would be a great books in particular for reluctant boy readers, while if Love That Dog doesn’t make you cry, you have a heart of stone.
Excerpt from Shakespeare Bats Cleanup by Ron Koertge
Another of my favorite NIVs for middle graders is Locomotion by Jacqueline Woodson. This is a sweet, tug on your heart strings story about a foster kid searching for capital F Family. The titular narrator is also learning about poetry, but this book tends to be less about poetics and more about the power of writing to heal.
Verse novels tend to be a bit dark and are mostly contemporary or historical realism. I’d love to see humor or even some genre novels in verse, both for middle graders and YA readers. Maybe I’ll write one someday.
My father left me a pair of magic shoes when he died. I had no idea they were magic. I had no idea that I would end up wearing them almost every day. It’s not like I thought about extracting them from his widow (not my mom) along with the cartoon collection, which I got, and the art collection, and money, which I didn’t.
But in the box of miscellaneous things that arrived with cartoon books were a pair of leather moccasins. I recognized them immediately as part of Dad’s rather eccentric professor’s uniform. Flat fronted slacks a button up shirt, usually long sleeved, cravat (yes!) and on his feet, soft soled moccasins. He would go miles out of his way, to traditional First Nations vendors to buy these, rarely buying or wearing anything else.
Later in life his uniform changed slightly. The slacks gave way, thank God, to jeans often held up by a decorative, and occasionally embarrassing buckled belt. The button up shirts often became cowboy style. The cravat, predictably, gave way to a bola tie. In short, my father became a cowboy drama professor, riding the range from Quincy Drive to his campus office in a red T-bird. The moccasins however, remained.
Despite being of average height and quite portly, my dad had tiny feet for a man. About men’s size six. Since I wear ladies eight (men’s 5-5.5) his moccasins are only a little big on me. So when I pulled them out of the bag, I promptly put them on. They fit. They were comfortable. I have chronically cold feet so I need slippers all the time. It was a match made in shoe heaven. I’m wearing my magic shoes as I write this.
When I say magic shoes, you might think of the tragic Hans Christian Anderson heroine who danced her way to two wooden feet. I however, think of Bunty, who has no Wikipedia entry, because practically no one has heard of her. Bunty is the plucky heroine of a children’s picture book from the 60s called BUNTY AND HER MAGIC SHOES. The story is more or less the same as Hans Christian Anderson’s except without the amputated feet. It’s not often a picture book features amputations, after all.
That my father bequeathed me, albeit by accident, a pair of magic shoes, is fitting (excuse the pun) because it was he who read BUNTY to me and my sisters, repeatedly. Apart from Alice in Wonderland, read at a leisurely pace over a long camping trip, BUNTY is the only book I can remember either of my parents ever reading to me. I can’t quite express the wonder of these Bunty readings. My father, an actor, was prone to accents, and always read Bunty in what I think was a Nottingham accent, although it may have been Yorkshire. At any rate, he didn’t pronounce her name “bun-tea”, but more like “boon-teh”. Boon-teh, as I said, doesn’t lose her feet. Instead her faithful teddy-bear, Teddy Pink Toes, tackles her, “joost lahk a roogbeh playeh” ”. Imagine Hagrid or Jon Snow reading it and you get the idea.
At any rate, my magic shoes don’t make me dance. They’re magic because despite the fact that I wear them for hours every day, with no socks, they don’t smell. They don’t smell of my feet, and they don’t smell of my dad’s feet. They don’t smell of feet at all. I just took one off and shoved my nose into it. Nothing but fresh leather. I have other leather shoes; if I wear them without socks, they smell. These shoes are magic, I tell you, magic.
But more than their magical smell repelling properties, the shoes make me remember my dad, and Bunty, possibly my first favorite book. That’s a kind of magic too I guess, one that I treasure.
I’m not a huge consumer of writer’s tech tools. I’ve poked at Scrivener and other things. I swore by ScriptThing when I was screen and playwriting. But for prose and poetry, Word for Windows is all I need. So I thought, anyway.
To me, writing has always been story telling. I probably spend about 75% of my effort while writing on trying to figure out the story. When I was a screenwriter this was perfect. Screenplay expression is pretty simple; it’s the plotting and the pacing and the characterization that are important. The words and how they go on the page is a small part of it.
Not so with writing fiction (or blogs for that matter). And beautiful smooth prose does not come naturally to me. I struggle with sentence variety and re-using the same dull words over and over. So when Sherrie Petersen blogged about the AutoCrit Editing Wizard, I just had to try it.
The website generously lets you use the wizard for up to 500 words at a time for free. This is a great free resource for bloggers or school age writers, and I will certainly be recommending for this. I played with the free wizard for about thirty minutes before I decided I must have the fully functional version.
This is a web based app, and you purchase a level of annual membership to suit your needs. I chose the professional level because I plan on completing and or revising at least three full length manuscripts in the next twelve months. I also wanted the options only included in this level.
First of all, purchasing and customer service have been exemplary. I emailed the contact email late last night (full disclosure, I was asking for a discount since I was planning to review it. They gave me 25% off) and they replied early this morning. With my discount code, I hopped back to the site, filled in the form, typed in my credit card and boom, five minutes later I was using the professional level version.
I dumped in 97,000 words. First discovery: with documents of more than 15,000 words you can only get one report at a time. I was mostly interested in “Overused words” , “repeated phrases” and “sentence length” anyway, so I didn’t mind looking at the reports one by one. Second discovery: the wizard breaks each chapter into a “section” and analyses them one by one. I was a little disappointed at first, but then I realized that since this particular WIP is written in alternating points of view this was interesting to see how the voices of these two very different characters contrasted.
Well, I found that I suck. I wasn’t very surprised. It seems I have way too many overused words and too much repetition. My sentence length variety seems to be okay, so that’s good. Like Sherrie, I found the cutesy encouragement “nice work” or “good job” to be a bit patronizing. But that’s easy enough to ignore.
It’s very easy also, to move through the various reports and it does allow a combination report of the whole document, which includes “overused words”, “repeated phrases” and “repeated words”. As I moved through the different reports I discovered I’m pretty good at avoiding clichés, although it did flag some phrases that can be but were not used as clichés in this instance. For example in the sentence “He’s sitting on the edge of one of the beds, looking out the window at the lake”, the phrase “on the edge” was flagged, as though I was saying “he’s on the edge of suicide” or “that’s guy is really on the edge today”. So that’s something to keep in mind when reviewing your reports.
The phrases summary is an excellent report. I, like many writers, have a few old standby phrases that I use way too much, and this report easily caught them, section by section. However for this report especially I would have like to have the analysis done for the whole manuscript.
Only one report, “Pacing” purports to analyze anything other than expression. I glad about this because I don’t think a bot can truly analyze the plot, premise or characters of a manuscript. So the pacing report itself I find suspect. This is what AutoCrit says about it:
Pacing Report: Interpreting Your Results
The Pacing Report identifies the slower paced parts of your manuscript, such as introspection and backstory (some descriptive passages are caught, too).
Slow paced paragraphs are highlighted in light green. Active sections, such as dialogue and character action, are not highlighted.
Good writing includes both faster paced and slower paced sections, so your story should contain both highlighted and not-highlighted sections of text.
However, introspection and backstory are better ‘sprinkled’ than ‘dumped’. Be careful if you have many paragraphs or pages of highlighted text.
Uh…I don’t believe it. In my pacing report it just seemed like random phrases and paragraphs were highlighted. Maybe I should take a closer look before I completely dismiss this but I’m skeptical. On a positive note, the report seemed to think my pacing was fine. Note that when I ran this post through the Pacing Report, the first paragraph and the bolded one above were highlighted, whatever that means.
I have two criticisms of AutoCrit Professional. It offers the option of emailing any report to yourself. This is very useful, however the report comes to you as a web page. Nothing wrong with this but if you were to want to use it (the report includes the entirety of your text with words and phrases highlighted) as the basis of a new draft, cutting and pasting it across to your word processor creates all kind of formatting problems. What I did instead was open the webpage report on another screen and then applied the edits to my working document by hand. This worked pretty well because I was able to tweak my own discoveries while keeping an I on the original. But not everyone has two screens to use. I would like to see the highlighted document returned as a word document with comments.
My second criticism concerns the “Dialog Tag” report. The wizard doesn’t seem to recognize most of the dialog tags in my manuscript. Perhaps this is because I am writing in present tense? It recognized the few “he said” and “she said” but none of the “he says” or “she says”. This is a pretty fundamental oversight that I hope the programmers will attend to, especially for those of us writing YA.
I think it might be helpful to have a report for passive voice and one for using present continuous “ing” verb forms. I’d also prefer the adverb report to be separate from the overused word report.
I used the wizard for an hour this morning, and I’m pretty excited about it. One thing I tried on my overly long manuscript is applying the results of the report on three pages. I found I was able to address most of the issues and trim 171 words! At this rate, these edits applied to the rest of the manuscript will allow to shave more than 10,000 words away. Woohoo!
Overall I’m pretty pleased with this application. I’m going to use it with my WIP and another full manuscript that needs revision. I’m also happy to recommend it to other writers and students. Go ahead and try the free wizard and tell me what you think!