some countdown news

I just wanted to put it here so I can always remember. Countdown has been nominated for some state book awards and so finds itself in very good company in Tennessee, Illinois and Texas. Such sweet news. I'm honored. Thank you, lovely librarians!

I went thrifting today during my writing break and bought a pair of very nice headphones for four dollars. When I got home, I plugged them into my laptop to see if they worked. I surfed to YouTube, and -- on a lark -- typed in "Deborah Wiles." I expected to find my Kirkus interview with Vicky Smith, or the informational trailer Scholastic so expertly put together (and that doesn't look like me At All), but what I found first was a book talk trailer created by Sandy Noles, who is the librarian at Calhoun Middle School in Denton, Texas.

It's very cool! Very nice job, Miss Sandy! I notice how you included all your sources as well, and I appreciate that (speaking as someone who had to learn to include a source for every dang snippet of Countdown information). I *loved* the music. Thanks so much for sharing Countdown with your students. Here's the video, y'all:

The headphones work just fine. I also bought a Sony Discman for three bucks. And a whole set of king-sized cotton sheets (white with blue flowers) for five bucks. I also might have figured out a story knot I've been wrestling with. All courtesy of an hour at Value Village. This is the thrifting life of the stay-at-home writer. 

I found some videos of myself on YouTube that I do not like so much -- who knew they even existed? I didn't -- but I also found some great Countdown school projects. I think I will ask permission to link to them on my Countdown page on my website.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled program day. Love. I'm not feeling too failure-like in February so far, so that's good.  xoxo

learning from my mistakes

At one point yesterday, an hour into the second session of what was supposed to be three 90-minute writing workshops with middle school kids in auditorium-seating chairs, I looked at the 250 eighth graders sitting in long, deep rows in metal folding chairs in the school's library, without their notebooks, staring at me, challenging me (in the best way) to entertain them on this exciting day of all-day-long Countdown projects, and thought, I give up.

I know you've been there as a teacher, a parent, a writer, a maker-of-things, a long-distance traveler of any sort on the convoluted highway of your work- or home-life.

I saw 750 kids yesterday in three 90-minute sessions. After talking with their principal long weeks ago about how to best make use of an author-visit day, I had prepared a personal narrative writing workshop for these students centered around their summer reading of Countdown, just one of several culminating events in their "One Book, One School" project. 

Somehow wires got crossed, as they sometimes do, and I ended up punting all day long, expending every last drop of energy, presence, and voice I had, using every scrap of classroom management skills at my disposal, trying to figure out how to work with these kids and give them -- and their teachers -- something of value to take away from the day. 

I was trying too hard. I know you've been there, too. The room was too light; the projector bulb was not bright; the round walls of the library were mostly glass (and the screen was in front of that), so students en mass who were moved from station to station all day distracted us; dueling microphones squealed; kids bounced; I sometimes shouted to be heard (I know better) and the whole thing felt terribly disjointed.

When teachers asked "What happened to the writing workshops?" I took every vindicating opportunity to say, "We were supposed to be workshopping; I'd never have kept your kids for a 90-minute assembly." Which, with this many captured kids squeezed together, who have no other creative outlet for an hour and a half, is like, I promise, performing a 90-minute concert. Three times. In one day. Only I'm not Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift. 

At lunchtime, when the principal asked how it was going and I replied fine, she said, "I was in there, near the end of your second session; it looked like you were having some trouble...". I replied, lickety- split, in my justified defense, "If they had had notebooks..." and thought further ...IF THEY HAD HAD NOTEBOOKS, LIKE WE AGREED THEY WOULD HAVE, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN WRITING, DOODLING, SCRIBBLING, DRAWING, WHILE FOLLOWING ME; THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN TOTALLY ENGAGED; I KNOW HOW TO DO THIS; IT'S WHAT I DO WELL....

But I stopped myself. I'm sure she did, too. 

Where did we get our wires crossed? I make notes on every phone conversation, I send out a detailed confirmation that lists everything we're doing and how we're going to do it, I always have a trail of email a mile long... what had happened? 

Confirmations and expectations aside, it became clear to me that work of any kind on this celebratory day was not going to work... something I think the principal already knew.

I could not compete with my own book's button-making station, tee-shirt stamping station, sixties dance-moves station, and I certainly couldn't hold a candle to the evening's Countdown-themed dance a mere hours away -- the excitement was building like a fire about to combust.

And then it hit me: I was hired to be a station, one of six stations on a student rotation schedule for the day, all stations relating to Countdown, and I somehow misunderstood my assigned role in all the back-and-forth communication. I wasn't a star of any show; I wasn't the piece de resistance brought in for this Countdown celebration. The kids who had read the book over the summer were the stars -- actually, Countdown was the star -- and I was a worker bee, just like everyone else manning their stations, and I had a job to do. And I had stuck myself in a hole.

Months earlier, when this station idea had been proffered, I said no to six 45-minute talks. ("I will lose my voice and stamina, and that won't be fair to your students, teachers, or me.") I had instead worked out an arrangement for three 90-minute writing workshops which would have stretched my energies, of course, with 250 kids per session, but I would have their teachers to help me, the sessions would be interactive, I would incorporate time for actual writing, and I would not talk non-stop all day.

But there were other options. I might have stuck with six 45-minute sessions but made them (instead of presentations, which take an inordinate energy) Q&A's about Countdown with a workable number of students. Or. I could have politely declined altogether, if this, too, felt like too much.

That 45-minute station, structured in a workable format, was -- at core -- what my client needed. And that's what I didn't deliver.

The first two sessions were back-to-back mayhem (that's too strong a word; to be fair, I did a good job, it was just too long to hold onto a group of 250 kids in those circumstances). I punted while using my prepared slides for a writing workshop.

When I got to my midday break, I broke down my presentation, restructured it, and then did a much better job in the third session -- work smarter, not harder -- by making it all about Countdown, and by starting off with a no-nonsense Q&A that set the tone, interspersing it with slides that expanded my answers and also provided more background.

It worked like the proverbial charm, for an hour and ten minutes. I was astonished and grateful. But now it was the end of the day, kids were restless, and I was done.

When I motioned a nearby teacher and told her that I was going to let the kids go ten minutes early, she balked. "NO." That's exactly what she said. "We can't let them leave here until 2:20. You've got to keep them another 15 minutes. I know that sounds inhospitable, but you have to keep them in here. What about that summer freedom book you used in the last two sessions?"

I seethed. I was spent. My voice was shot, my feet were swollen, my patience was thinner than thin. I could toss this back at the classroom teacher and make it her problem, or I could make another choice. 

As the jostling and noise crescendoed, I slipped to the computer and pulled up the slides that tell the story behind Freedom Summer. I pulled the group together again and began to tell them the story of Annie Mae who worked for my grandmother in Mississippi in the sixties. I had the luxury of time to spin it out the way I like to do... the way I rarely have time to do.

I set the stage, I compared this Freedom Summer with the Freedom Summer I was writing about in book two of the Sixties Trilogy, and then I recited the story from memory as I showed Jerome LaGarrigue's fabulous art on slides. 

The room was stone silent. It is always so, with Freedom Summer. I silently thanked this teacher (whom I never saw again) for the inspiration and connection. I promised my voice I would not talk for the rest of the day. Week. I drank some water, I signed some books, and I dashed for the car waiting to take me to the airport. 

As I grabbed my luggage in the main office, I shook the principal's hand and thanked her for the day. She thanked me for coming: "I'm sorry it wasn't what you expected; we did our best." I couldn't manage a smile. "It was fine," I said. "We did well." Which we did. But I could barely contain my disappointment.

On the way to the airport my adrenalin was still running away with me, and I was so ragged out, I began to bitch to the driver, who of course knew nothing of what I do or what the situation was, but I couldn't stop myself, which is how I realized what I was doing.

Which is how I was able to stop. I gathered up my own poor, morose little spirit and said enough, Debbie. You are just blowing off the steam from your own impending meltdown from your own surprising failure. You did the best you could, given what you did not know, and given what you came to understand. Next time will be better.

And it will be.

I'm still sifting what I learned from this, but some of what I've learned is that I want to listen better up front. I want to ask better questions. I want to understand better the concept or situation or goals for the day. I want to be able to offer ideas ("how about a 45-minute Q&A with each group instead of a presentation?") that can slide seamlessly into a school's needs and goals while preserving my own energies and brain cells. I want to say no when I need to. And I want to always remember: I am in a school to be of service. I'll work on it.

The days in schools that go like clockwork are days I love like a sister. Those are most days in schools for me. The days that beat me up are few, and they are almost always my fault. I want to learn to be grateful for them, for they teach me to be a better teacher, a better learner, a better listener. They give me something of value to share with someone else. 

twelve pretty pictures...

...all of New Orleans last week, posted here chronologically.They tell a story only I know, although you could write a fictional story using these photos, in this order. Or, mix up the order. Or, choose only ONE photo and write a story. Choose three. Which three would you choose? What stories could you tell?

Always, when I step into New Orleans, I want to live there. Give me twenty-four hours, though, and I'm ready to go home, possibly this time because home has been waiting for me for months. And, finally, here I am.

This makes thirteen pretty pictures. I like this one best. See those windows? My dining room has lived behind them for a year. Tomorrow I start moving my office back to its rightful place. I move further down the road to changing up my routines. And I begin again on book two of the sixties trilogy. After I sit on this porch a while longer...

Welcome home to me!

public events: chattanooga, tn and darien, ct

Quickly, two public events where we can meet one another and catch up:

I'm speaking tonight (Monday, March 28) at 6:30 at the downtown branch of the public library in Chattanooga, Tennessee, a town I adore. Details here.

I'll be talking about how personal narrative finds its way into fiction, using my books as a backdrop for so many stories that have defined my life and my work. This is a family program for all ages.  More here.

On Tuesday, I'll be working in Chattanooga schools. Yay!

Then, I'm speaking on March 31 -- this Thursday -- at the Darien Library in Darien, Connecticut, a town I'm about to meet and, I'm sure, adore. Details here. Countdown is Darien's "One Book, One Community" book for 2011!Exciting!  It's the first children's book to be selected for this honor, and I'm so looking forward to meeting the folks in Darien and sharing stories.

Darien has planned a month-long celebration of Countdown at the library, complete with a film screening of Thirteen Days and Dr. Strangelove, as well as Pete Seeger's The Power of Song, which is one of the many references I used in researching the Pete Seeger biography for Countdown. There will be listening parties, a poetry slam, and so much more -- check it out!

I'll be doing a writing workshop with young writers in Darien on March 31 at 4pm, and a family program about Countdown that evening at the library, at 7pm.

If you live near Chattanooga or Darien, I hope you'll come say hey. Heavens to Murgatroyd! as Franny Chapman says in Countdown. Two public events in one week! I'd love to see you.

the long exhale

Hello, friends. More about me in a minute. First, a round-up of Countdown's year, on this last day of 2010.

It's been gratifying and exhausting, in the most exhilarating way, to watch Countdown make its way in the world this year. Since we last visited here, Countdown has been on several year-end lists:

A Publisher’s Weekly Best Book of the Year, 2010
An Amazon.com Best Book of 2010, Top Ten Middle Grade Books
A Booklist Editor’s Choice for 2010
A Book Links Lasting Connection of 2010
A Best Books of 2010, The Christian Science Monitor

  I wanted to share with you, as I let go of Countdown and turn my attentions fully to book two of the Sixties Trilogy, some secrets of Countdown. They are contained in the end-of-year interviews, reviews, and divulgences below. I offer them as resources if you are teaching Countdown, and as enrichment if you'd like to know more about how this book came together. And who doesn't like a few secrets? hee. Onward:

Jennifer Buehler and I spent a happy hour together in November at NCTE in Orlando, and the result is this lovely 20-minute podcast at Read-Write-Think all about the creation of Countdown, and just what was I thinking? "Every once in a while a book comes along that breaks new ground by doing something that's never been done before.  Deborah Wiles' 2010 documentary novel Countdown is such a book." You'll hear my paean to designer Phil Falco and to my editor, David Levithan, and learn about their vital roles in Countdown, as well as the connections *I* was making as I wrote the book. Thanks so much, Jennifer.

Earlier this month, David and I were interviewed by Laurie Beth Schneider at The Mixed up Files of Middle Grade Authors: Team Countdown: An Interview with Deborah Wiles and David Levithan. Laurie gave us lots of space to share in depth about the creation of Countdown, and you'll find here also my thoughts about the large arc of history vs our personal stories, and what I think about how we present historical fiction for young readers. Thanks so much, Laurie.

Scholastic sales rep and good friend Charlie Young sent me this Countdown review by a young reader (Girl Knows Books) in Prince George's County, Maryland (where Franny lives, in Countdown),and I love it so much, I want to share it with you. Favorite lines: "I loved this book and couldn’t put it down, so I finished it in two days. The writing and plot were magnetic, the characters were so real that I could either hate them with all my might or love them to bits. It’s just the right book for the kid that likes reading emotional stories, and the girl that needs to realize all she has. It really is."

 And isn't that what it's all about? It is for me. Countdown lives as long as it is embraced by readers and taken to their hearts. I always say I write for ten-year-old me. Here's a secret: I write for ten-year-old you, too. I expect you to rise to the occasion... and you do. Stretch! Grow! Become! The best stories, for me, offer me a way to see beyond my usual norms. They ask me to think differently -- to see what that's like -- and to feel and connect and... change.

Somewhere in the year's interviews, you'll find that I consider the Countdown scrapbooks kept by the young Franny, full of newspaper clippings and sayings she has collected and songs she has heard, and photos she has seen. I think of the opinionated biographies as written by the adult Franny, who has the perspective of age and time on her side, so she can see the throughline of history and how it is connected to each of us and how our personal decisions are touched by that history.

And, somewhere along the way, I was heavily influenced by social revolutionary and amazing writer John Dos Passos and especially his U.S.A trilogy -- The 42nd Parallel, 1919, and The Big Money. From one description:

"The trilogy employes an experimental technique, incorporating four different narrative modes: fictional narratives telling the life stories of twelve fictional characters; collages of newspaper clippings and song lyrics labeled "Newsreel"; individually labeled short biographies of public figures of the time such as Woodrow Wilson and Henry Ford; and fragments of autobiographical stream of consciousness writing labeled "Camera Eye." The trilogy covers the historical development of American society during the first three decades of the twentieth century."

Sound familiar? Franny's internal musings serve as the Camera Eye of Countdown. The scrapbooks serve as the Newsreels. And the biographies of Countdown are as opinionated as the ones in U.S.A.

The differences? I am focusing on the sixties. I am writing for young readers. I am following one heroine, one narrative line. And the story, of course, is mine. I want to offer young readers a terrific story, first of all, and along the way, a way to look at history, a way to sink into story that's visual, tactile, and auditory. The playlist for Countdown (on this resource page at my website) is as much a part of the experience as the elements inside the book. The reader's heart is as much a part of the experience as mine.

I issued a challenge and an invitation, with Countdown this year: come in. Wade in the water with me. Fall into this story. Become a part of this story, part of this history. Be one with all that has gone before you, and all that will be. Make peace.

It has been a good year. Thank you for traveling with me.

going and coming

 Leaving Wisconsin, here is the Wisconsin SCBWI fall 2010 retreat faculty:

I had fun with y'all, and I learned a lot. A very smart, savvy, witty, compassionate faculty, even if I do say so myself.

 And here are our photographers! Pam Beres, regional advisor; Judy Bryan, assistant regional advisor, and JoAnn Early Macken, member (and writer) extraordinaire. Thank you, thank you, thank you again!

I left Wisconsin with my friend Robin Hoffman, Queen of Scholastic Book Fairs, who came to pick me up this morning. We drove to Chicago together, yakking all the way, and made a stop on the way to our destination. Robin knew just what I was looking for:

Here I was, just a week ago, thinking I needed to set book three of the Sixties Trilogy in Berkeley in 1968 -- even ready to find a short-term rental there for next summer. Now I think maybe I need to set book three in Chicago, of course.

Whew! Well... I don't have to decide about 1968 now. I need to finish book two. But first... Chicago. Tomorrow I work with Scholastic Book Fairs in three Chicago schools and then speak at National Louis University, at their North Shore Campus at 4:30pm. Here is your invitation to come out and hear me talk about Countdown!

Please come, if you're in the Chicago area and can make it -- I'd love to see you.  I promise not to look this tired:

One more photo to add to this one and this one, in Robin and Debbie's Big Adventures.

day two in san francisco

 Day two found us at Montclaire Elementary School in Los Altos.

I *loved* seeing all these bicycles!

 Loved these students, too. We had an intimate time discussing Countdown, before I was whisked away to another teacher appreciation event, this one at the Children's Discovery Museum in San Jose. I didn't get a photo of librarian Deborah Fryer, but trust me, she was wonderful, and had prepared her students for my visit. We laughed and told stories, and signed some books, then I was on my way.

 After the afternoon teacher appreciation event, I was squired by my friend Kathy to Hicklebees, where I got to be hand sold some books for my new grandbaby -- she'll be born in March or April, and I'm already starting her library... lessee, what did I get? I'll do a separate baby-library post when I'm not so brain dead, and then I'll remember.

It was so much fun to visit "my plaque" on the wall at Hicklebees again. In 2005, Each Little Bird That Sings was honored by Hicklebees as their Book of the Year. I hadn't been to Hicklebees, or seen Valerie, since the 2007 All-Stars tour, and it was so good to catch up.

  Girlfriends go to dinner and take their own picture. Highly recommended (dinner and self-portraits).

 Girlfriends pour over Kathy's collection of old cookbooks. You just knew I'd love these, didn't you? Well, Kathy sure did. And I do. 

 The artwork in some of these is exquisite, the recipes divine... and the stories! The stories are the best. Stories of home and family and kinship and connection... le sigh. I swear, I keep saying I'm going to write The Aurora County Cookbook and tell more fabulous tales by Miss Eula, Ruby, Melba Jane, Comfort, Great-great Aunt Florentine, Uncle Edisto, House, Cleebo, Honey Jackson, and more. I should do it. Yes? Wouldn't it be amazing if Dismay could make an appearance?

 You would think that was more than enough for one day, but no. It's so rare I get to see my friend Walter Mayes. He wasn't free the nights I was in San Francisco, so Kathy and I drove to see him in rehearsals for Godspell at the Sunnyvale Theater in Sunnyvale. (Bless your heart, Kathy.) This is going to be a terrific show, y'all. This is a great cast -- the singing and dancing are spectacular. The director's okay, too. :>

  Godspell at the Sunnyvale Theater in Sunnyvale, California. The show opens October 29 and runs through November 21. Performance dates are listed here. Prepare Ye!

My great thanks to Scholastic Book Fairs for bringing me to San Francisco and hosting me all around the Bay. Thanks to new friends and old. Thanks for being a part of my life. I love the history we make together. 

And now... Wisconsin. I had four days home between San Francisco and this trip. Next I'll show you how I spent them.

day one in san francisco

I'm in Wisconsin. And I am blown over by my welcome here, and by this retreat center, by the nuns who run the place, and by these fabulous Wisconsin SCBWI writers who are gathered here this weekend.  I neeeed to take photos and share this place with you.

But not before I share last week (was it just last week?) in San Francisco, with my Scholastic Book Fairs friends -- I was equally blown over by the hospitality at the schools we visited, and by the grace and good humor of my Fairs buddies... I'm spending a fall being blown over, basically... let me show you San Francisco.

St. Isadore's in Danville. A sea of fourth through eighth graders -- hard to sit on a gym floor for 45 minutes, but they did, and we had fun, and signed some books, and got to visit a book fair in the making (do you see John Glenn in the photo below? I was in love with him. He is Drew's hero in Countdown):

Librarians Lee Lewis (left) and Kathy Dal Porto (right) flank Deborah Roberts Kaiser, Scholastic Book Fairs' Author Promotions and Conventions Specialist, who squired me all over the Bay Area for two days -- and I mean all over.

This is an amazing book fair, y'all... when Deborah and I walked into the library, it was full of parents who were making Kathy's creative thinking come true for their kids -- a circus themed book fair. They were one week away from Fair Day, and the room was full of activity.

Each of these clowns has a BOOK FAIR! sign at his feet with pointing arrows.

E

Thank you so much, Lee Lewis, for making this morning at St. Isadore's possible. I loved meeting you and your teachers and students.

When we left Danville, we had a few hours to kill before a teacher appreciation event that evening. I mentioned to Deborah that I was thinking of setting book three of the Sixties Trilogy in Berkeley in 1968. "Do you want to go to Berkeley now?" Deborah asked. And we did.

We ended up driving the entire circumference of the Bay Area before we were done -- it was awesome, crossing bridge after bridge, and in Berkeley, driving around the campus, seeing Telegraph Hill and People's Park... and I didn't take a single photograph. I just soaked up the atmosphere and decided then and there that a short-term rental in Berkeley next summer is where it's at. Let's see what happens.

That evening we held a teacher appreciation event for Bay Area teachers at the brand-new San Mateo Public Library -- what a beautiful building! And, once again, I got to meet new friends, and see how a Scholastic Book Fairs event works. Here, Countdown is showcased, of course...

Whoever's idea this was, below: bless you. :>

What the cases look like opened and ready for business:

And what they look like when they're closed and ready to go back on the truck. Some of y'all will remember this post of my visit to the Scholastic Book Fair warehouse in the Chicago area two years ago... it was an amazing experience, to watch these cases being packed. I'll bet some of those same folks packed the cases below.

And here we are, the hard working Bay Area Fairs team, after a long day, ready to pack up and go home. I asked for this photo, to show what it takes to make a book fair work. From left to right: a parent, a teacher librarian, two Fairs folks, one writer, and two more Fairs people. They all combine in various shapes and designs to bring books to young readers.

Next, day two in San Franciso, featuring a school, a bookstore, three girlfriends, and one giant.