binding off

It's hard to let go of a novel, especially one you have nurtured for fourteen years. I started Countdown in 1996. It was a picture book. Now it is a documentary novel. What a long, convoluted, amazing journey this has been. Yesterday I handed over to my editor my final-final changes to final page proofs. My work on this book -- my word work -- is done. I can hardly believe it.
It's a bit like binding off a project on the needles. You cast on 180 stitches, and you stay with them for months, and then, when you are through, you begin to cast off, one stitch at a time, until, finally, at some point, you are at the last few stitches... the last time that yarn will be tethered to your needles.

The last time that story will be tethered to you.

That's how I felt yesterday, as I finished talking with my editor and we wrapped it up. Now my book is entirely in Scholastic's hands. And what great, good hands they are. If I will allow myself, I can let go now.
I'm thinking back, over the many years of work on this book, the many seasons I have worked on it, the many incarnations it has had... I can barely tell you! I can't do it justice.
And I know that, just as it happens in life, we can't always see what is best in the midst of turmoil, but somehow, some way, there is always something redeeming, something shining, in the heart of the swirl. Does this make sense to you?
That's what I have found with this new book. Four editors and three houses later, this book found the exact right home, with the exact right editor, at the exact right time. Wait until you see it. You won't believe your eyes, I promise you. A documentary novel. It is an entirely new experience -- and I do mean experience.

This Sixties Trilogy found its way to Scholastic, and I am thankful for my good fortune. It's mysterious to me, how that works. I have learned not to question it. I have learned to embrace the mystery.
So here we are, at the cusp, the jumping-off point, with a brand-new book -- book one of three -- whose gestation was a long, hard one. And yet... none of the pain or slog matters anymore (which any brand-new mother will tell you). What matters is we got there... and how beautifully we got there! (Oh, it IS beautiful. What a HANDSOME book. What an amazing book.) And now, we are so close. Publication is May 1. I'll have a cover for you soon.
In the meantime, please accept my apologies for all this blathering on -- I know it doesn't make much sense, I know I should do a better job trying to tell you, but this is the best I can do right now, and I hope it's okay... I'll come back to earth soon.

I've cut the cord, that's all.... I've let it go, this long-loved story, this beautiful, grown-up child of mine. We are no longer tethered to one another, and I am floating on the great good work we've all done to help it stand on its own two feet, a new being in the world, ready to find its way.

scrapbooks sneak peek!

It arrived! It's here! The scrapbook page proofs. And sssshhhhh! Here's a few pages, just for y'all. Isn't this amazing? Tell me it's amazing. Tell me how fantastic it is. Tell me you can't wait to read it. Tell me you are as totally blown over as I am. I can't stop smiling and turning the pages.
I love it so much I can hardly stand it. Thank you, Scholastic -- what a fabulous book we are making together.

It's one thing to see, embedded in the manuscript (by moi), the art I chose for the scrapbooks -- the photos, lyrics, ads, news items. It's quite another to see these elements designed so boldly and beautifully by the fabulous Phil Falco. I'll walk around all weekend thinking about this design and whispering "Eeeeeeeeeee!" under my breath, knowing I've got hold of a delicious little secret. A little secret I've shared with you. Thanks for being as excited about it as I am. :>

Eeeeeeeee! And happy weekend!

while waiting

So we're on deadline. I've dashed back the first-pass proofs. I've made a final pass at the edited acknowledgements, bibliography, author's note, etc. And I am waiting on the designed pages -- all those scrapbook elements -- which were to arrive yesterday. They didn't come.

This was me, yesterday, waiting on the package from DHL (big fail, DHL):
I am still waiting, at 11:22am this morning... the next day. We are on it, Scholastic and I, we've got each other's backs, but you know, I have learned that sometimes you cannot push the river. Still, I say this as my mail carrier, Bobby, drives past the house, and UPS has been here already -- again -- this morning. Le sigh.

This is what I want to do to DHL:
Don't they get it, that THIS (below) is the situation we're contending with right now?
Okay, not that bad. But it helps to blow off steam while I'm waiting. I'm sitting on my bed, surrounded with stuff, while hammering goes on outside my door. I'm waiting for this package. And I wanted to share these photos, courtesy of a website sent to me by my DJ son, Zach. Thanks Zach. I've had a good laugh this morning.

Which helps, as I've been consumed with the news from Haiti, have sat here on the bed while waiting, and have read, read, read the news, and have wondered how to help. I need to do something concrete. If you do as well, let me direct you to a couple of quick-steps you can take to help, right this minute. You can donate relief funds here:

Doctors Without Borders

And here's something else you can do right away. Anyone with a mobile phone and an account with a major wireless carrier can text the phrase 'Haiti' (no quotes) to the number 90999 and donate $10 to the Red Cross. That amount will be charged to your cell phone bill.

That alone felt like something useful to do while I waited for these pages that, in the grand scheme of life, can take as long as they take. I am fine. We are fine. The book is going to be just fine.

all-nighter

I walked into Panera Bread yesterday morning at 8am. I already had two hours of page-proof revision under my belt and I needed to get out of the house before the workers came to hang my interior doors.

I pointed to the pastry case as I ordered coffee. "What's the worst thing for me in there?"

"Oh, you want these little puffy things," Charise behind the counter told me. "They're worse than a Big Mac!"

"Load me up," I said. I got a puffy thing with spinach, artichokes, and cheese tucked inside.

I snagged my favorite booth -- it's in the back corner next to the bathrooms. It's out of the way and it's got a dedicated electrical outlet for my laptop. Score. I opened my satchel and pulled out the 420 typeset pages of Countdown, a blue fine-point Pilot pen, three pieces of Ghirardelli's chocolate, and my cell phone. I peeled off my heavy winter coat, my shawl, my scarf, and even my sweater -- it was hot inside.

The music at Panera is too loud. The customers have to talk even louder in order to be heard over the music. They all have problems. They are all fascinating. But I can't stay and listen. My job is to slip beneath the surface of all that noise and enter the world of my story. I'm practiced at this, and I know how to do it. This is a warrior day.

I take short breaks for coffee, water, bathroom, a salad at lunch. I make flight reservations for a coming trip. I check email. I check in with my editor. But mostly I stay with my story until 8pm that night. Twelve hours at Panera (this is an essay for another time), lost in another world.

I stop for Thai food on the way home and eat it in the pink chair while I catch up on mail and my husband. Then I turn back to my story at 10pm, ready for another push. I don't leave the pink chair until 6:38am, when I finish the 25-page document I have created for my editor, a page-by-page accounting of every line in the book.

That document looks something like this (skip or skim at will):

p.17

line 10: comma after old.

line 15: spell out 47

line 22: delete comma after soles

line 29: add “s” to triangle and delete swords

p. 25

line 3: delete entire line

line 4: delete “screaming.” delete “steps on” and substitute “trips over”

line 5: delete “reach out and pick” and substitute “snatch”

line 7: delete “who hear him”

line 18: insert “school” between “brick” and “wall” and delete “of the school”

line 26: insert period after weedy, delete the following “and” and initial cap the next word “It” in order to make two sentences here.

line 27: lower case the B in DuBose. The name is spelled differently throughout. Let’s stick with Dubose as the correct spelling of this name.

p.198

line 1: insert and after napkins,

line 10: check permissions for fair use

line 15: delete comma after sings it

p.231

line 15: make this paragraph a quote, so insert “I whisper,” after the word knees, then begin quotes before Dear and end quotes after understand on line 20

line 20: end quotes after understand. Also, no itals in lines 15-20

line 21: period after last word (letter)

line 22: delete “to Chairman Khrushchev.”

All day, all night! This is what I did.

If you actually read all that, you're as big a word-geek as I am. I love this part. I love the tweaks, snips, cuts, and the art of sculpting a story after the structure is sturdy and known. I love looking for rhythm and clarity and (especially at this point) the poetry within the prose. I love stitching the seams until they are seamless. I love working with good proofreaders and copy editors.

I love my job.

And we are on deadline. I can feel it -- the adrenaline that careens, slides, soars, pivots and shoots us into the pocket -- finished! -- screaming "Wahooo! What a ride!"

Or maybe it kills us. Sometimes it feels like it might. At 6am this morning, having finally finished reading, marking, and detailing every one of those 420 pages, I sent my editor the 25-page map to the whole shebang. The subject line of my email: Bataan Death March.

Bwaahahahahaha. Go to bed, Debbie.

the news from here

The snow is on the punkin'....
The pot pie is out of the oven... (thanks, Hannah)....The eatin's being done indoors....
... or is it?
Hmmmmm......

And I have news: page proofs! Typeset pages of Countdown to read and respond to over the weekend. We're fast approaching an arc, a galley, something you can hold in your hands. So I've put down the 1966 manuscript, and I'm turning my attentions fully to the last time I get to see these manuscript pages before production turns them into advance reading copies and BOOKS.

It's almost a book. And it's a good weekend for reading through, one last thorough time. Happy Weekend, all!

writing worth reading

Excellent writing -- I mean, really excellent writing -- slays me. I live for it. When I find myself in the midst of excellent writing, I stop -- I physically stop reading -- look up, and say it out loud: "Wow. This is good." It's so rare, that feeling. I immediately want to share it.

Here is a short essay by Colum McCann, author of Let the Great World Spin. The essay grabbed me from the first sentence -- "We are built on the wounds and mercies of the past: everywhere we are is everywhere we have been."

Read it for the way it is put together, for the voice that is speaking with such authority, such clarity, such power and assurance, and even... such tenderness. It doesn't matter your politics. What matters is that the written word is alive and well and someone is nurturing it. What a writer!

Which brings me to Ellen Goodman. Her last column for the Boston Globe ran on January 1. Here it is. I loved what she had to say (and how she says it) about baby boomers aging and letting go. It's also worth a read, especially for a fellow baby boomer like me, who is not only facing her own (many) lettings go, but who is writing about the sixties as well.

I want to read excellent writing this year. I'm open to all suggestions: Books, articles, essays, online or in print, it doesn't matter -- I want to steep myself in writing that takes my breath away, surprises me, puts my mind to work and makes me think and change and grow. And laugh. And cry. And....

I know it's out there. Please share it with me this year as you find it; I'll do the same.

what i've been up to

It's back to the fire, the pink chair, the books to help me with research, and the deadline to keep me motivated. I want a revised draft of book two of the Sixties Trilogy -- 1966 -- by March 1. Oy vey. It can be done... but oh, how MUCH there is to do.
So, of course, in honor of the way I've worked in the past, I'm creating a bit of havoc and having all my interior doors replaced this week. Wheee! Bought glass door knobs today, and have watched the five-panel doors go up up up -- what a difference a solid-core door makes. I work here, Jim works here, so there is always music and typing and story-making going on. Now we'll have quieter sanctuaries in which to work (or sleep) when we need them, although we do enjoy the noises of creativity around us.

And I may just go to Panera to work, some, until the beautiful doors are finished. But not tomorrow. It's supposed to be snowy in Hotlanta tomorrow, with temps into the teens. Bring it on! We know how to stay toasty.

remembering 2009

"Picnik Show"

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Happy New Year, y'all! Here's a look at 2009 from the One Pom archives with a few surprises thrown in for good measure. You can open a dedicated window here as well.

I can't wade into the new year without saying thanks to all those I partnered with this year in learning and teaching; thank you for your students and for the instructional time. Many of you will find yourselves or your students in these photos. What good work we did together!

Thanks to those who welcomed me home when each journey was over. Thank you, family. Thank you, friends. As you can see, homecoming was always so sweet. I spent time in the garden, the kitchen, and at the page. You could find me near water, and near music. What comes home to me as I look at these photos is the juxtaposition between home and away, and how each feeds the other; how each holds its gifts. I'm so glad for that.

Thanks to booksellers who opened their arms to me, literally, in 2009, especially during the Shoestring Tour, and who continue to shepherd my books so lovingly. Thanks to publishers who support my work, and to readers everywhere who make it possible for me to keep writing. Thanks to Scholastic for providing me a platform from which to tell three stories of the 1960s for young readers. I'm looking forward to publishing COUNTDOWN with you in May!

Thanks ever-so-much to all of you for making 2009 a truly remarkable year. Thank you for hanging out with me in this online space as well, and for sharing your thoughts, your encouragement, your hearts, and your stories. What an inspiration you are to me.

My love to you,
Debbie