January 27, 2012

Sad News: Hull-House Closes

Posted by beckylevine under History | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |
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One more social service bites the dust. I could let this post become a rant about the economy and the state of the nation and the government, but I’m not going to go there. Mostly because the sadness I feel is less practical. It’s not like I don’t know what cuts are doing to people who really need help, all over the place–not just in Chicago. It’s not like, if you listen to the news, see what’s going on, that this would even come as a surprise.

Still…gut punch.

I’ve spent the last few years doing research, reading, about Jane Addams and Hull-House. I visited the museum (and the museum is not closing) a couple of years ago, and was delighted to find myself not in a stuffy, dark old building, but a light, airy place that I could easily imagine still reflected Addams’ taste and personality, where I could pretend Addams herself might come down the stairs at any minute.

So my response to the news is kind of self-centered, or at least Addams-centered. I’m thinking about how she would have felt to see this end, to see all she worked for–against all odds–go away. As wonderful and well-deserved a memorial as the museum is, I really don’t think it was Addams’ end goal–to have a museum. Her goal was to get to know all these people, the neighbors she “settled” near when she started Hull-House, and to help them. And today, the thing she built, the thing that–if I were talking about someone with less vision than Addams–I would say grew beyond anything she could have imagined, that thing is gone.

Except I can hear her scolding me as I type this, shaking her head, maybe even smiling and laughing at me just a little. Because it’s not gone. You know that everybody involved in Hull-House is miserable about this; you know that they and all the services in Chicago are going to be working to connect up with all the people who still need help.  Yes, Jane Addams was a phenomenon, an inspiration, but caring and action didn’t start with her, and they didn’t end when she died. I know this.

Still…such a loss.

This article in the Chicago Tribune talks about the closure, and you can listen to a brief piece on NPR about it, as well. If you want to know more about Hull-House and Jane Addams, of course, you should read her book Twenty Years at Hull-House, if only to hear Jane’s own voice talk about her venture. Another wonderful book is Hilda Polacheck’s memoir I Came a Stranger: The Story of a Hull-House Girl. I also highly recommend Louise W. Knight’s Jane Addams: Spirit in Action, which is one of the most interesting biographies I’ve ever read, talking as it does about the people Addams met and the works she read, then dissecting and analyzing how they played into her ideas and idealogy.

Finally, of course, if you’re in Chicago, do stop in at the Hull-House museum. Touch base with Jane Addams, and all that she meant, if only for a few minutes.

 

January 25, 2012

Me and E-Readers

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Ask anyone: they’ll tell you I love paper books. This is just one wall of my office.

And I’ve never been known as an early-adopter. I drive a twenty-year-old car; our house was built in the 1920s, and I still have one of those huge CRT  monitors taking up a big part of my desk. Heck, I’d probably have bemoaned the arrival of the pan-flute onto the music scene, just because it pushed the lute out of dominance. (Jayme Carter: SCORE!!)

And I don’t have an e-reader yet. The biggest reason for me is that I do 90% of my reading with library books. (I’ve just started counting up the books I read this year, and the number is going to be well into the multiple hundreds–which, realistically, would break any budget I might make, if I bought them all. Plus look back at that picture of my office: not so much empty space for new books. I am a big re-reader. But…checking out books on e-readers is now possible, and my librarian assures me that their e-book selection will be growing substantially.

Guess what I’ll be getting for my birthday this summer?

Here’s one of the big reasons I’m going over to the e-reader side soon.

My son bought himself a Kindle Fire in December. He loves it. I love it.  And I realized, when I bought him Neal Stephenson’s REAMDE last month, that my husband is going to need a Fire at some point, because if I’m buying 1,000 page sci-fi books that they’re both going to want to read, I’m buying ONE copy, and they’re going to loan it, cross-platform, back and forth.

Kids and E-readers. Remember, I’m always late to the game, so if you’re expecting some fresh, new revelations here, keep moving. All you’re getting are my thoughts.

I am a big fan of kids and e-readers. Emotionally, I’m right there with all of you who want kids to love the feel of a physical book in their hand, who want kids to be happiest surrounded by the smell of paper and ink (and dust, if you’re in a used bookstore!), who want them to know what it feels like to turn a real page and find out what happens to Anne and Diana after they drink the cordial.

Unemotionally, though, I have to say…why? My son was an early reader, starting with the choking noises and the frustrated “Mom!!!!!!” in the Calvin and Hobbes books and moving quickly onto chapter books and longer stories. He was born in 1996, so of course he started with paper books (It’s actually hard for me to even buy a board book!), and, yes, he loves them. But take a look at that photo of him with his Kindle–is it really any less wonderful to see  him (and the cat!) curling up with an e-reader than it would be with that incredibly thick paper copy of REAMDE? No, it isn’t.

I know there are kids who don’t fall in love with books as early as my son did. I spent several years volunteering in his elementary school, on the reading side of things whenever I could, and I watched kids struggling with their reading, not to mention struggling with the humiliation and anger they felt for not reading as fast as the other kids, for not yet being out of those numbered, beginning-reader books. Guess what: humiliation and anger do not foster a love of reading. Do you know how much happier some of these kids would have been if they could have sat at their desk with one of these books on an e-reader, where the other kids couldn’t see what they were reading? Where their “level” wasn’t on public display, to add to their frustration?  If these kids discover reading on an electronic device–and, yes, many do–why would we ever tell them NOT TO. Side note: why would we EVER cut library funding when, for some kids, this is the only place they’re going to have the opportunity to read electronically?!

What matters is that kids read. Frankly, I pretty much don’t care what they read, and I don’t care whether that reading is done in a paper book or an e-reader. Yes, we have some adjustments to make. Yes, I wonder about whether we really need to add more bookshelves to our house (10 years ago, I would have said they were mandatory!). Yes, I worry that I’ll have to somehow manage splitting my time between an e-reader (at the couch or kitchen table) and a different, paper book (in the bath). Yes, emotionally, I want to be able to curl up with a paper book with little kids, and to be able to keep giving physical picture books as baby gifts. (And you know I will!)

But e-books for kids are here. And more are coming.

I may not have my own e-book reader yet. But I am so, already, on the bandwagon.

 

January 20, 2012

Friday Five: Yoga at Home

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So I’ve been taking yoga classes now for about 5 months, if you don’t count the MONTH I missed during Family-Plague season in the fall. (And I’m pretty sure going right back to the classes as soon as I was healthy enough to do so means I don‘t have to count it.)

I love my studio, and I love the classes, but today I’m going to do my own yoga in my own office. Why? Well, for Friday, I’ll give you 5 reasons.

  1. What else am I supposed to do with the beautiful pink bolster, lavender block, and sea-green therapy balls I’ve purchased. (Yes, I also have a lovely purple mat, but I do take that to classes with me!)
  2. Doing yoga at home this morning meant I could lay in bed for 15 more minutes, which is TWO hits of the snooze button, and you know you just can’t underestimate the value of the snooze button.
  3. I have some pretty cool yoga-type music I downloaded for just this purpose, that I’ve only played twice. Three times?
  4. My arms are VERY much still sore from Wednesday morning’s class, and you can just bet that in this morning’s practice, the instructor (that would be me) will not be doing the bridge pose. (Although I’ll do it again next Wednesday, if it’s in the line-up!)
  5. It’s just barely raining outside, the skies are a beautiful gray, I have a space heater, and a little by-myself yoga in my space sounds pretty darned good.

Just so you know, this will not be me:

What are you doing to enjoy your Friday?

 

January 16, 2012

In Which I Look Into the PiBoIdMo List and Find it…Not ALL Heffalumps and Woozles

Posted by beckylevine under PiBoIdMo, Picture Books | Tags: , , |
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It’s mid-January, which means 2012 is well on its way. Which means, yes, that I should be doing something with that list of ideas I came up with last November, in Tara Lazar’s PiBoIdMo. How easy would it be for me to let this all go? Oh, too, too easy.

So…

This weekend, I went back to step 1 on my post-PiBoIdMo to-do list: prioritize my ideas. Honestly, when I thought about putting my entire list of 50+ ideas in order, it was a bit overwhelming. I mean, I knew without looking that some of those ideas were pretty awful, and I just didn’t feel like spending much any time debating which of them most deserved pride-of-last-place. You know?

I came up with a compromise. I would build the list, and then I would prioritize my top 10. Seems rational, right? Realistically, how many of these ideas am I really going to have time to develop into a full story before next November, and PiBoIdMo 2012, rolls around?

I opened up each file and took a look at the idea, reminding myself what the file name I’d assigned it actually meant. And I have to tell you, as I worked my way through each and stuck them on a list, I was fighting back the slightly nauseating feeling that I wasn’t going to find ten story ideas I could even tolerate. You know, once that PiBoIdMo glow had worn off.

But guess what? Ten is just not that big a number!

I have my list. And that short-list is actually not horrible.  When I looked into the pit and dug around a lot, instead of heffalumps and woozles, I think I found a little honey. Most, if not all the ideas spark at least an image or a bit of character in my imagination, and the couple that don’t–well, they make me at least want that spark. Which is more than I can say for some of those ideas that would have ended up at the bottom of the list.

And the idea that landed at the top? That took the #1 post. Yeah. There’s a story in there I want to write.

How are you doing on your post-PiBoIdMo work? Found any honey yet?

 

January 13, 2012

Friday Five: What I Love about Linda Urban’s HOUND DOG TRUE

Posted by beckylevine under Book Review | Tags: , , |
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Quick note: If you’re interested in guest-blogging here about your critiquing experience, or your thoughts on critique groups, check out my earlier post here. It’s kind of like Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me…: You win for yourself AND another person. Okay, it’s not Carl Kasell’s voice on your answering machine, but it is a copy of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide!

And, now, on to the Friday Five!

Last week, I read Hound Dog True by Linda Urban.

And I’m telling you right now, if you want to read a book that is middle-grade fiction, go pick this one up. It hits all the marks–a wonderful, young hero who does not have the control/impact over her own life that a young-adult her would, but who still struggles to make the changes she needs to see happen. For today’s Friday Five, I’m doing a numbered “review” of all the things that really hit home for me about this story.

1. I love Uncle Potluck. First of all, how can you not be intrigued by someone called that, and Uncle Potluck lives up to all the humor you’d expect from hjis name. But, because Urban knows what she’s doing, he’s so much more than comic relief. He becomes Mattie’s shelter and safe place, one with just the right kind of support from which a person can push themselves out into the world to deal with things.

2. I love Mattie ‘s notebooks. So many of us writers use the convention of a journal or diary, and so many times it falls flat. Not here.  Along with, again, the humor of watching how Mattie records her janitorial notes, Urban gives us a full sense of the need and hope that Mattie gives those notes, that she gives the notebook itself. She writes these things down, because she believes they will give her a way out of a situation she dreads. From Mattie ‘s point of view, she has to get everything just right. And Urban makes us feel that desperation.

3. I love Quincy Sweet ‘s Aunt Crystal. Okay, I love Crystal, too, but it’s a Friday Five. Crystal isn’t very likeable as a person–she makes Quincy’s life too difficult for that, but, as a character? Oh, yes, I love her. Because she is exactly right. She is so absolutely different from her Quincey, and she is trying so hard to change that niece into something closer to herself. Yes,  she has good intentions; yes, it’s the only way she can see to be a good aunt, we still cringe and wince every single time she talks about the girl Quincy could be. Ouch.

4. I love the tin-can telephone through the ceiling. (If you want details, go read the book!). It is such a great carry-over from Mattie’s mom’s own childhood, something so perfect for her to try and bring into the “now” with her daughter. This telephone doesn’t work any better, technically, than the ones we all tried as kids, but the clunkiness and the continued attempts to make the connection more clear are just wonderful metaphors for the better place that Mattie and her mom are headed together. And it takes a lot for me to like a metaphor.

5. I love–and this is the big one–the way Urban so “gets” Mattie’s shyness. She absolutely understands the push-pull for the child who really, really wants to be part of “it,” whatever that it is that the other kids all belong to. It’s not a club, it’s not a social group–it’s just an ability to walk into a new situation, any situation, and have the right words, the right attitude. Oh, heck, the right anything. Mattie’s attempts to figure out words ahead of time, to picture what she might do when the time comes to do something, so resonated with me. As did the pain of all those plans, all that imagination, turning on Mattie, showing her instead all the things that she could possibly do wrong.

I was that kid. I recognized my child-self in Mattie, and I so wanted to reach out to both the character and to myself and distribute huge hugs. Hound Dog True is a wonderful story, but the real happiness I’m taking away with it is the thought of other kids, finding this book today, and not only seeing themselves in it, but also–more importantly–seeing the possibilities for hope and friendship that Mattie offers them.

Thank you, Linda.

 

January 10, 2012

Looking for Guest Bloggers…and Giveaway Winners

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So, if you read my theme post earlier this month, you’ll know I’m getting back to my fiction writing in 2012. This doesn’t mean, though, that I am forgetting about critique groups or the book I DO have out, The Writing & Critique Group Survival Group: How to Give and Receive Feedback, Self Edit, and Make Revisions.

I have an article out in February’s issue of Writer’s Digest magazine, “Critique Your Way to Better Writing,” and I’m always available here, or on Facebook, to talk about critiquing. Heck, I’ve even added a second critique group to my own life, one that I’m going to use to focus on my picture books.

And here’s the thing. I still have quite a small pile of author copies in my office. And they’re not doing me, or anyone else any good, just sitting here.

So it’s a year of giveaways! Well, almost a year, since I didn’t get it together enough to start this until February! What I’m going to do is ask for guest posters to come to my blog and talk about their critique experiences. I want to keep things positive, but that doesn’t mean you can’t share a not-so-great experience that taught you something, or a bad place you started from that led you to a better critique place. Basically, I’m open to anything, just not full-out slamming of any group or the critique process overall. Cause that’s not how I roll.

Each guest-blogger is going to get a copy of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide. AND, on top of that, I’m going to pick one commenter at each guest post to also send a book to. (I told you I have a pile!)

If this sounds fun to you–the guest-posting part–send me a quick note at beckylevine at ymail dot com, with the basic idea for your post. I’m hoping some of you will want to chime in with your thoughts and experiences.

And, hey, you’ll be helping me continue to clean up my office in 2012!

 

January 9, 2012

When DO You Back Up & Start Over?

Posted by beckylevine under Revising, Revision | Tags: , , , , |
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I am the queen of writing forward. Okay, I’m the queen of telling other people to do that.

Nobody has ever said I don’t have strong opinions. Or that I don’t share them. So what’s happening? Well, as so often happens when we spout off share our opinions, life seems to be coming back at me with a “Oh, really?!” And a “Ha!” And, even possibly, a “Neener-neener.”

I’m considering restarting an entirely new draft of my YA historical without having finished off the last.

Not yet, obviously. I’m still working through Donald Maass’ Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook, and I’m still on the character section–haven’t even started the plot section yet. So no decisions today.

But…remember my reasons for going back to the workbook? My WIP was in such a tangle, I felt totally lost. Believe me, I’m not out of those lost woods yet.

I’m hoping to be, and I’m seeing glimpses of light, and I’m realizing all over again what a tangle of bad knots that last draft is. (Not to mention the one before it!) And I’m feeling like the idea of stepping back into that mess makes me cringe. Plus, the ideas I am having–I can’t see how or where they would fit into what I have on the page, even if I do tell myself I’m still just drafting.

Which, obviously, I will be.

So my question to you is: if you’re a forward-moving writer; if you’re someone who–like me–feels that the best thing you can do is finish off a draft  and then restart…when do you break that “rule?”

When do you leave the earlier mess in a lump, without writing a last page, and start over? When do you let yourself start fresh?

And how has that worked for you?

Advice and words of experience welcome!

 

January 5, 2012

“Historical” Voice: Are We Letting it Go?

Posted by beckylevine under Historical Fiction, Voice | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I’m writing my historical YA in first person, present tense. I made a conscious choice to do this, way back when, because I am not fond of the dense, slow voice and pacing that can  be one of the markers of historical fiction. I hoped present tense might let me get to more immediacy in the writing. At the time, I hadn’t read any other YA historical written in present tense, so I told myself I was just experimenting, seeing how it all fell onto the page. But, really, I wanted to make it permanent, decisive.

And I was thrilled when, right after that, I read several YA historicals that used present tense. And worked.

Small dance of joy.

Still, it’s been a struggle. I find myself writing drafts where the language comes out stilted and formal, acres away from any way of thinking that a 16-year-old today would recognize and, I believe, pretty far away from how a 16-year-old in 1911 would think or speak. The language takes over, and the characters and action lose out–they’re given short-change by my attention. When I reread my scenes, it feels like stepping into a sticky mire, a hedge of brambles, and I’m trying to push  my way through and find the story.

So, as I work through the Maass workbook, I’m backing off from the language. I’m trying to get closer to Caro’s thinking, her way of viewing the world, and I’m letting myself write it in modern language. I’m even allowing slang to slip in, because I need to get in touch with her anger, her contempt, her determination and push–and I can’t quite get there when I’m stepping out of the sentence to find out how someone in 1912 would think “kick in the ass.” I know I’m going to have to change this, at least some of it, but I’m letting myself put that off for later. Until I know Caro.

I admit, I’m carrying a bit of hope through this process, hope that maybe I won’t have to change as much as I fear. Has anyone else noticed the lightning of prose, the shortening of sentences, the lessening of time-specific vocabulary in recent YA historicals? I just finished Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s Jefferson’s Sons, and while the events and circumstances and details left no doubt that the story took place in the past, I was never bogged down in language or pacing. Similarly, Sherri Smith’s Flygirl, Kristin O’Donnell Tubb’s Selling Hope, Kathryn Fitsmaurice’s A Diamond in the Desert, and Ruta Sepetys’ Between Shades of Gray all beautifully capture and evoke the power of a specific time in the past, without having their characters speak in a long-winded, formal structure, without making the reader lose sight of the story behind the language. And I know there are others that aren’t popping into my mind right at the moment.

Yes, I’m setting my standards high. :)

Is it just me and wishful thinking? Or, if you read historical YA, are you seeing the change, too? And what do you think of it?

 

January 3, 2012

The Word for 2012

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Yes, I know it’s January 3th. Yes, I know that’s a little late for resolution-type posts. But, hey, I’ve been busy writing and working, which–since those are a big part of my goals for 2012–I believe is a satisfactory excuse.

Every year, Laura Purdie Salas picks a theme. I like this idea so much better than resolutions, which–in my head–seem to take the metaphorical tone of that anvil in the coyote-road runner cartoons. You know, the one that hovers over the right spot just until the coyote stops under it, then drops…WHAMMO!

Themes are softer.

My themes are usually a word. This year, after two months of upper-respiratory plague running through the family, my word came easily.

RECOMMIT

Now, I do have to say that, with Son over his pneumonia and me over my bronchitis and Husband over HIS pneumonia, I am starting to realize that I didn’t just spend November and December bailing out on my writing. I know, I know–it should have been obvious that they AND I were tired and drained, and not a whole lot of writing gets done at times like that. Yes, I know I was too hard on myself.

There is, however, a silver lining. Because struggling so hard (and pretty much failing) to get any writing, revising, or thinking done during those weeks was a big wake-up call about how much I dislike not making progress. It was also a big wake-up call about what I’ve been focusing on for the past year or so–the WHEN of publication.

It’s a dream. It’s a wonderful dream, and it’s one we all have. But it comes with churning and stress and panic-modes that do NOTHING to help us write. I’m stating the obvious here, but it just really came home to me at a gut level toward the end of 2011.

I want to write. I want to work on my stories. I want to push myself to dedicate some time, as many days as I can, to making my books and my craft better. THAT is what I missed these past few weeks, not the idea of seeing my book on a bookstore shelf or someone’s e-reader. Of course I want that. But the timeline needs to return to “someday,” and back off from drumming insistently at “how soon?!”

I’ve been there. I’ve concentrated on the the actual project–the characters, the plotline, the prose. I’ve done it. And it’s time to do it again. That’s why my word for 2012 is “recommit,” not just “commit.” Because, for me, it’s a return to doing this writing thing the way I really need to.

I seem not to be alone in this feeling. Susan Taylor Brown talked about it on Facebook.  Check out Kelly R. Fineman’s series of posts on commitment, starting here and moving forward chronologically, and do not miss Jo Knowles’ post, Defining “Work” and Another Invitation.

Do you have a theme or a word for 2012? Did you make some writing resolutions. I’d love to hear about yours, and I wish us all the best of luck in keeping them in mind during the next twelve months!

Happy New Year!

 

December 31, 2011

YA Historical Fiction Challenge: JEFFERSON’S SONS

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Coming in under the wire on the last day of the year, here is my 5th review for YA Bliss’ 2011 Young Adult Historical Fiction Challenge. I said I would read and review five books and, while it was a near thing at the end, I did it.

I picked up Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s Jefferson’s Sons  a few days ago, in the middle of the afternoon, and I couldn’t go to bed that night until I’d finished it. Action-packed? No. Lots of tension around the physical horrors of slavery? No.

Why couldn’t I put it down?

Three reasons: The characterization is exquisite. Bradley writes in multiple points of view, and each speaker has a completely distinct feel and energy.  In fact, every character in the story is full, real, and layered—whether or not they have a say in actually telling the story.

The premise question is unique. How would it feel to be the child of the man who wrote these words: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…” and to be owned, as a slave, by that writer? That father?

The stakes: incredible. I don’t know if this is historical fact, but in Bradley’s story, Jefferson has promised Sally Hemings that he will free all their children as they each turn 21 years old. Will he remember? Will he make a will before he dies, that states this promise? Will his heirs respect the will? Freedom. Life. It doesn’t get much stronger than that.

The anger and disgust I felt as I read must only be the tiniest drop of the emotions Jefferson and Hemings’ children felt. Confusion. Hatred. Love. Respect. Hope. Contempt. The list could go on forever.

And somehow Bradley pulls all that together and writes an incredible book—in a structure that I would have sworn would leave me irritated, but didn’t—that worked perfectly. Bradley starts with the oldest son’s point of view, then passes onto his younger brother, then leaves that point of view for one of an even younger child—but one who isn’t Jefferson’s son, who isn’t going to be freed at Jefferson’s death. There is magic in having the children tell the story, rather than their mother, or one of the older slaves. We see the moment each child comes to the realization of what they are—not just a child, not just a person, but an owned human being—and what that means for their life. The pain of that moment is excruciating. Over and over and over.

The only thing I question about this story is the title. I’m not sure how or why Sons was decided upon as the thing to highlight. Jefferson had three sons who lived with Hemings—Bradley chooses two of them to tell their parts of the story. It works beautifully, and nothing feels like it’s missing, but I do wonder what was behind the choice of not using the third son’s point of view. Also, Hemings and Jefferson had a daughter who lived—Harriet. In this book, Harriet is an incredibly strong and believable character, and she has a different path to walk than all her brothers. Again, she lives on the page—I don’t know what would have been added by telling a chunk of the story in her voice…but I am left with wondering why she isn’t part of the title, why it isn’t Jefferson’s Children. Or Jefferson’s Sons and Daughter. (Awkward, I know, but you get the point.)

That is almost all curiosity, though, because—as I said—I “get” Harriet as wonderfully as I get the other characters. I get her purpose, her acceptance of her mother’s plan for her, and her absolute determination to get out of the world she has grown up in. As I get her brother’s reluctance and fear about the same step, her other brother’s sadness, and her younger brother’s equanimity.

I even get Jefferson in this story. As a character, Bradley has made me believe in the man she envisions could have this split in his personality—an incredibly intelligent, apparently kind man, who kept slaves, who kept his own children as slaves and could not see the cruelty in every smile he gave them. That’s as a character. As a person who truly existed, this story has made me feel more anger and hatred toward Jefferson than I had even let in before. That feeling you have of just wanting to shake sense into someone? I had it every time Jefferson appeared on a page, every time I saw him through these children’s eyes, through their attempts to reconcile all the things that couldn’t be reconciled.

This book stayed with me. Every time I woke during the night after I’d finished it, I was back at Monticello, back with these people going about their daily lives and not knowing what would come to them, not having any control over what that would be. Moment after moment, as I read, I felt like I wanted to throw up. And I mean that as the highest compliment to the author.

A disturbing book? Upsetting? Oh, yeah.

As it should be.

 

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