Kathleen O'Dell's Book Blog

Come see me! (and bring your mom...)

2012-01-18T17:29:00.000-08:00

The Mother-Daughter event at Flintridge Bookstore is a great opportunity for girls and moms to visit with a variety of authors. You go in groups from table to table, author to author--sort of like literary speed dating. I'm bringing my historical research and weird discoveries I made while working on THE AVIARY. And have you seen who else is on the agenda? BIG TIME authors! Authors of legend! So don't miss it!

A Merry Book Club Christmas!

2011-12-06T22:29:00.000-08:00

This year our book club decided to take a holiday picture. Proudly showcased in the center? THE AVIARY! Its evergreen cover was a perfect match for our ensembles. The author is in brown antlers and a snowman turtleneck. A memento for the ages!

Chilling Portraits of Early 20th Century Children

2011-11-19T17:27:00.000-08:00

I'm putting together a presentation featuring my research on turn-of-the-century life for THE AVIARY. The little girl pictured here lived in Eastport, Maine (a fishing village and port of entry) around the time my fictional Clara Dooley lived in Lockhaven. Until I started poking around in search of images for my book, I hadn't heard of Hine. His photographs of working children are stunning, heartbreaking and shocking to our modern sensibilities. Russell Freedman has a beautiful book for kids on Hine titled: KIDS AT WORK: LEWIS HINE AND THE CRUSADE AGAINST CHILD LABOR. Highly recommended!

AVIARY article at Bangor Daily News

2011-11-14T10:41:00.000-08:00

It's true, I've never been to Maine, but I've written a book with a Maine setting. My friend, Carla, who is a longtime Portland resident helped me with some of my story's logistics. I'm happy to say she's included in this article:
Check it out:
http://bangordailynews.com/2011/11/06/living/book-reviews/west-coast-author-sets-historical-fantasy-on-maine-coast/

THE AVIARY from a Pug's P.O.V

2011-11-13T17:53:00.000-08:00

My writer friend, Linda Zinnen, has interviewed my pug, Max, asking him to give his two cents on the making of THE AVIARY. After all, it was on my walks with Max that I discovered that house in the neighborhood with the outdoor cage of tropical birds. He was in on the whole process--sleeping soundly beside me as I tapped out the story at the kitchen table. So I said, why not? He's almost eighty in dog years and has never yet been interviewed. See his take at: lindazinnen.com!

You want it? Baby, you've got it...

2011-10-26T10:42:00.000-07:00

A word to the elderly: you know when you're stuck with one of those golden oldies in your head and it's driving you crazy? ("Love is a highway, I want to ride it all night long...") My bete noir awhile ago was the Young MC hit, "Bust a Move." They say you can get rid of these ear worms by listening to the song all the way through. So I try downloading it from itunes. Usually, I have no problem with this, but "Bust a Move" is particularly stubborn and I get nothing but error messages. So I keep clicking to download--errors again. I give up, but later when I'm back at my laptop, "Bust a Moves" download en masse to my itunes folder. Now I can listen to the song all day nonstop if I want to without putting it on a loop. Anyway, that was a couple weeks ago and I thought I was through "bustin'." Until one afternoon this weekend I open my laptop and BOOM! Another one downloads.

"You want it, you got it," indeed.

Wild Rose Bouquet for THE AVIARY from School Library Journal

2011-10-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

"O’Dell weaves a tapestry of hauntingly gorgeous imagery with this atmospheric tale of suspense, magic, and adventure. Readers will be captivated from the first page on."

Huzzah!

Win a copy of THE AVIARY on Sunday, October 2nd

2011-10-01T15:28:00.000-07:00

After a visit to Michael's craft store, I have constructed a display and raffle box with my own loving hands for the West Hollywood Book Fair on Sunday from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Come see it for yourself (ignore the glue marks) and enter! Free admission! Free parking! And at least one free book! 647 N. San Vicente Blvd. West Hollywood, CA

Bouquet from Booklist for THE AVIARY!

2011-09-26T12:03:00.000-07:00

The Aviary.
O'Dell, Kathleen (Author)
"Five birds live in the old iron cage at the back of the Glendoveer rose garden, and 12-year-old Clara has
never felt friendly toward them until she befriends the smallest one and learns to communicate with it. As
a result, she comes to believe there is more than a passing chance that they aren’t really birds at all and are
somehow connected to the supposedly drowned Glendoveer children. O’Dell has crafted a terrific story
with just the right degree of horror for upper-middle-school children. The plot is well matched to the early
twentieth-century setting (the early film The Great Train Robbery is mentioned at one point) to help
distance readers from the macabre events while adding an atmospheric flavor perfectly suited to
adventures involving gloomy mansions and mysterious children."

See me at The West Hollywood Book Fair, Oct. 2

2011-09-21T10:41:00.000-07:00

I'm looking forward to meeting readers and signing books at the new West Hollywood Library on Sunday, October 2nd from 10 a.m.-2 p.m. I'll be holding a drawing for a spanking new copy of THE AVIARY, so come on by and try your luck!
West Hollywood Library & West Hollywood Park
647 N. San Vicente Blvd.

New! THE AVIARY Book Trailer

2011-09-08T15:47:00.000-07:00

The fabulous Janis Olson of Olson Creative designed this trailer for my book. I love it! And THE AVIARY has a facebook page too. Please stop by and give it a "like!" http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Aviary-Childrens-Book/153297138088818

A Bouquet from Kirkus

2011-09-05T18:11:00.001-07:00

Not an actual bouquet--better! A lovely review for THE AVIARY:
In the early years of the 20th century, a 40-year-old mystery in a dead magician’s crumbling mansion magically changes Clara Dooley’s life forever.
Eleven years old and barely allowed out of the house due to her “weak heart,” Clara and her mother live with ancient Mrs. Glendoveer. Mother nurses the widow and keeps the mansion in mostly working order with the help of cook Ruby. All of them tend the magician’s five surviving birds, of various species, that live in the backyard aviary. When Clara hears the mynah shout “Elliott,” she asks Mrs. Glendoveer who that might be, only to find it’s the name of Mrs. Glendoveer’s baby, who went missing decades before. When Mrs. Glendoveer dies shortly thereafter, Clara discovers that five other children vanished with Elliott; despite the impropriety, Clara begins to investigate with the help of Daphne, her new (and secret) friend from town. O’Dell jumps genres to great effect in this spooky, fantasy/mystery (Agnes Parker… Keeping Cool in Middle School, 2007, etc.). She evokes the period so well that (older) readers might suspect they’re reading a lost collaboration between E. Nesbit and Agatha Christie. O’Dell reveals the mystery and magic incrementally, even as Clara simultaneously discovers her autonomy. Readers seeking instant gratification might not stick it out, but they’ll be cheated out of an action-packed, page-turning finale.
An absorbing mix of talking birds, ghostly messages, kidnapped children, magic spells and tragic family secrets. (Historical fantasy. 9-12)

New Aviary webpage and first review

2011-08-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

Publication of THE AVIARY is hard on the horizon, and I'm doing that thing where I'm walking around with my shoulders hunched, waiting for the reviews. It's a defensive posture--as if someone might at any moment hurl a pie!

I can't be the only author out there who has that mixed feeling of anticipation and dread come publication. For this book, I'm feeling particularly tender. I lived in THE AVIARY's crumbling mansion for a long time, and the birds there are my dear friends. (Or at least it feels that way.) It has been hard to move on to other things, which is new for me. That's how attached I am to this book and its world.

I'm happy to report that my first reviewer, Publishers Weekly, did not throw a pie. No, this was definitely a lovely bouquet. They called it "a well-paced, high-tension mystery" that joins "a rich heritage of stories about children with a secret 'room of their own'.”

One thing, however: while this book will have readers recalling THE SECRET GARDEN, I must confess that I have never read it myself. I did attempt it one summer in fourth grade and couldn't get past the spelling of its English dialect with the missing aitches, etc. It was too difficult for me at the time, I suppose. The book that most influenced me in writing THE AVIARY was Joan Aiken's wonderfully chilling THE WOLVES OF WILLOUGHBY CHASE. Now there's a read that will keep you up at night!

Anyway, go ahead check out the new page at kathleenodell.com!

My New American Girl Short Story

2011-06-24T17:19:00.000-07:00

I had a lot of fun writing THE UN-SURPRISE PARTY for the latest issue of American Girl Magazine. But then again, I always have fun writing for them. It's a wonderful magazine for girls!

Kathleen O'Dell Website Back in Business

2011-05-28T08:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, everyone! I hope my new website helps answer readers' questions. I've hired a the Homework Fairy for those of you who are doing author assignments. Just click on her page, and voila! If you want to contact me for questions, please do. Just try to email rather than snail mail. By the time I get your mail via my publisher, you may be already graduating from high school. I try to answer all email promptly. Thanks...

kathleenodell.com

Polly Wants to be Alone

2011-05-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

It took me over a year to figure out which animal (baby? woman-in-distress? rabid bobcat?) was shrieking to high heavens on our back street on late afternoons. As it turns out, we've got parrots--the brilliant Cherry Head kind--in the neighborhood. Despite their brilliant coloring, they can hide quite well in all the greenery we've got here. They have a noisy rivalry with the crows that can really get out of hand. When I spotted my first full flock, I was surprised at how awkwardly they fly. They are flappy and nervous. You can imagine them saying, "Whoa, gotta hurry up and get to the tree before we fall out of the sky!"

They're interesting to watch close up, and since I've written THE AVIARY, a book about mystical talking birds, I wanted to see how they interact. They are quite affectionate, actually. They groom each other and sit with heads resting on each other's shoulders. I love their bow-legged pirate walk. A few weeks ago, when they perched in a low-growing olive tree, I stood below them and said in my best Polly-want-a-cracker voice, "Hello? Hello?" A hunk of bark fell an narrowly missed me. I tried again. A branch grazed my nose! And then I saw the Cherry Head furiously biting on a tree limb for more ammunition. They were throwing stuff at me! I had to laugh.

Since these birds are offspring of former pets, I'm imagining they are rather proud of themselves having overthrown their keepers and are happy back out in the wild. We humans can just bug off.

Photo by Jef Poskanzer

THE AVIARY Cover

2011-01-31T18:18:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of light reflecting off the glossy paper, but you get the idea. It's spooky, isn't it? Hints at the mystery inside...

Fun at Flintridge Bookstore this Sunday

2011-01-27T20:22:00.000-08:00

I'm looking forward to meeting girls and their moms in La Canada Flintridge on Sunday. We authors will have a chance to chat, talk about our books and sign them, too. Last year the event was a great success, and I feel lucky to be an invitee for 2011.

Hope to see you there:
964 Foothill Blvd.
La Canada, CA
818 790-0717

THE AVIARY--Almost Complete

2011-01-26T17:12:00.000-08:00

Just heard from Knopf today that THE AVIARY bound copy and jacket proof is in the mail. The aviary above is a pic culled from an antique store. I had the pleasure of checking out many cages and aviaries for the book. This one has a zinc tile roof and is very charming, I think (though the birds are stuffed. Yeeks!).

Will post a photo when I get the real thing. Can't hardly wait...

Gingerbread Mandala

2011-01-18T14:28:00.000-08:00

Every December, I make a gingerbread house. I scrounge for the oldest ingredients in the cupboard (since I know the thing will not be eaten) and make the dough. After the dough is mixed, it must be refrigerated. After that, I bake the parts of the house which must dry overnight before construction. The next day comes royal icing making and the laborious process of holding the parts together as they dry. The pastry bags spring leaks and we (my kid assistant and I) end up sticking to the kitchen floor when we walk. When the house is complete, we mount it on cardboard and make a candy garden. We are so pleased with ourselves when it is done that we don't mind scrubbing down our sugary kitchen!

Six weeks later, the tree has been taken down. Nothing of the holidays remains except a shedding poinsettia and the gingerbread house. It's so hard to let it go. So much work! And it has given us pleasure appropriate to the season. But now?

I thought about those sand mandalas made by Buddhist monks--the ones that can take years to complete--and how they blow the sand away as part of the ritual when the work is completed. We're both quiet as my kid assistant stands poised over the little house with a hammer. Miraculously, the house resists the first blow! (That's how old and hard it is.) She tries again, and voila! Down it goes, shattering into pieces. We both manage to laugh. It was actually kind of fun.

Time changes. We move on.

Holiday Help for Lazy Author

2010-12-12T17:29:00.000-08:00

Turkey Decor

2010-11-26T07:32:00.000-08:00

My nine year old friend and I combed the neighborhood for pine cones, and she did the rest! I plan on bringing these lovelies out every Thanksgiving.

The 1300's--One Horrible Century

2010-11-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

When I get down about our modern world, I'll remember to refer to my recent research on Europe in the fourteenth century. No sooner were the famines over (a period when some resorted to cannibalism) than the plagues came. (Smallpox is pictured above.) I'm currently attempting to incorporate real-world atmosphere into an old fairy tale and finding that the abominations of reality are eclipsing the wonders of the tale. I'm actually considering creating an all-out horror story! My only concern is whether I'll have produced something appropriate for kids 9-12. It's strong stuff, but fascinating...

Have a FABULOUS Halloween, One and All!

2010-10-29T11:24:00.000-07:00

Remembering Mary Sheehy Heriza

2010-10-20T07:51:00.000-07:00

My Grandmother Mary Heriza died on September 21st, just a month short of her 99th birthday. Though blind In the last years of her life, she was still doing crossword puzzles and emailing and writing on her computer. She loved poetry and could recite reams of her favorites (Milton, Tennyson) by heart. When her eyesight failed, her son called her weekly for a private poetry reading. With the help of my mother, Grandmother wrote two charming autobiographical chapbooks about her childhood which were celebrated in her hometown of Baker City, Oregon.

For many years, Grandmother was the "Story Lady" on KBKR in Baker City, Oregon. She read children's stories on the air on Saturdays and always said a special hello to us grandkids when we were visiting. I feel that I'm a recipient of her love of words and stories. She raised my mother who passed on her love of books and writing to me. My own children are readers and writers. I could go on about Grandmother's sterling attributes and lists of accomplishments, but it is her literary legacy that I'm most thankful for. She's gone now, but the love continues.

Bon Voyage to Me...

2010-09-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

Once every thirty two years, I like to visit London. Last time I went, I prepared for my trip by listening repeatedly to the Sex Pistol's NEVER MIND THE BULLOCKS--on vinyl. Now that I'm in my Montovani period, I've prepared by reading a bazillion travel books and covering my map of London with sticky dots I bought at Staples. After London, we chunnel to Paris. Paris, I like to visit every fifteen years. This time, I'm celebrating my silver wedding anniversary and my son's graduation from college.

I hope to get some fantastic story ideas. Get my imagination sparked. Renew!

Be back soon!

Pride and Prejudice in the First Draft

2010-09-03T07:18:00.001-07:00

Like most writers, I have an unwritten list of things I try never to include in my stories. This is essentially a compilation of my prejudices and is completely subjective. Sometimes I'm tempted to include something on the list simply because I've exhausted my alternatives or my brain is flatlining. But as soon as I weaken, my pride kicks in and says, "If you don't erase that now, you will be embarrassed forever and ever." And I hit the backspace button as fast as I can.

Some examples:
The word "awesome." I used it once in AGNES PARKER HAPPY CAMPER. I figured that the word was part of the kid lexicon, so it was okay. I also told myself that I get one AWESOME per career. It will never happen again.

The word "grin." I can't tell you why this word gives me the heebie-jeebies. It is unbearably corny and, to me, insincere. Add "wry" and you have me doubled over and aching.

Crazy Old Coot characters. I recently abandoned a book that had not one, but two eccentric old people. Everything they said sounded as if it should be followed by a rim shot. One codger had a blinding smile due to super white dentures and could lift heavy objects even though she weighed 90 pounds. The other coot was crusty and said "MyFace" for "MySpace." I backspaced over both of them. Old people are easy to caricature, and I just have to think of my beloved grandmothers--beautiful, intelligent, witty and extraordinary women--to make me hang my head in shame.

Down-home wisdom of any kind. "My granddaddy used to say..." You know what I mean.

Super weird names. And this is coming from a writer who named a character Ophelia Peeler. So I'm talking about names that are even weirder than that. Like, "Lawn Furniture Applehead Jones."

Kid Geniuses. J.D. Salinger mined this vein and I'm not going to try to best him. It's a cheat, I think, because you allow your kid character to avoid age appropriate observations and vocabulary. Basically, as a writer you are still sitting in your grownup chair wearing a kid costume. If that makes any sense...

Okay, this is a sampling. Purely personal and prejudicial. If one of the above is actually a favorite of yours, well, that's what makes the world go round!

Banging Your Head Against a Wall?

2010-08-25T10:05:00.000-07:00

Well, that's just what we hard-headed gals do. Dance with me!

First Pages

2010-08-19T07:05:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a book almost ready for copy editing. That means that it's practically in its final form and structurally sound. All except--in this case--the first pages.

The first paragraph is a load-bearing beam for the rest of the novel. It establishes the tone of the book and piques the reader's interest. Usually, I like to give a mini-picture of the main character's current circumstances as I release them in mid-action. But with my current work-in-progress, I haven't hit on the right scene yet.

The funny thing about writing a story is, if you're perplexed, you have to stop and think. Sometimes the thinking goes on for days. Panic can set in when you lose trust in your brain's ability to come up with novel solutions, and you can end up with a nice case of writer's block.

The best thing, I think, is to think and to trust. Take the walk. Wait for the morning. That first paragraph is out there somewhere readying itself for delivery to the mail slot of your mind. Please, please Mr. Postman...

Big Bad Barbie

2010-08-06T09:46:00.000-07:00

My friend, YA writer Melissa Wyatt, sent me the early reader BARBIE GOES TO A PARTY (pictured left) knowing how much I adore that doll. As it happens, Melissa owned the same book when she was a kid and loved it. (Incidentally, she grew up to be an accomplished doll maker herself.) The gist of the book is, what will Barbie wear to the party? She tries on outfits for her mom, then decides. That's it. No message except, perhaps, that wherever one goes, choosing the right ensemble is the first priority. And that's bad. Right?

The current prevailing notion is that Barbie is a harmful influence on little girls. She's fluffy, inconsequential, vain, and silly. Her measurements are distorted. She's an advertisement for body dysmorphic disorder. Some women my age (old) claim that they never loved her! They disdained the tiny open-toed stilletos, the strapless evening gowns, the fur-collared boleros, white cat-eye sunglasses, zebra-striped swim suit, tight capris with filmy cocktail coat, the winged stewardess cap and exquisitely detailed flight bag! I could go on about my favorites and the bumpety-bump my heart made when I dressed my titian-haired bubble head Barbie in them. But that would be wrong.

Here's what made Barbie fabulous to me: 1. She was forbidden by mother for all the forward-thinking, female-empowering reasons listed above. It wasn't until I was taken to the hospital for a nasty tear on my mouth that my parents relented. Bleeding as I passed a little display case featuring a Barbie nurse and Dr. Ken, I thrust my hand out and whispered, "Barbie! Barbie!" as best as I could with a torn lip. The next day, my dad brought her home to me for being brave and enduring the stitches. I declared it was the HAPPIEST day of my LIFE! If I'd known that all it took was a facial injury to get my hands on that beautiful doll, why I would have fallen off the fence ages ago.
2. Barbie's fabulousness spoke to my heart. I was living in a shoebox house in a little rainy lumber town in southern Oregon. My mother, a gorgeous woman, had four kids under the age of 6 and an extremely limited budget that went largely to pay for our out-of-pocket antibiotics, stitches and casts. Barbie spoke to me of a possibly more glamorous future. She was my fantasy, and I was passionate about her--as, I'm sure, were many little boys who dared-not-speak-her-name. (You'll find them competing on Project Runway.)

To this day, I love fashion. It is a spectator sport for me, but no less pleasurable for that. When I see her old clothes on ebay, I feel the same glow that I felt back in the days of the New Frontier! I'm partial to the old Barbie--the one who wore a ton of eye makeup and didn't smile so much. But I won't despair for any little girl who adores her today.

Just don't get me started on Bratz...

SCBWI LA Conference--A Family Affair

2010-08-03T08:28:00.000-07:00

I brought my son Charlie, an aspiring writer, with me to the national SCBWI conference in Century City last Saturday. He loved it. We split up for breakout sessions. He says that Carolyn Mackler's workshop on building character was entertaining and informative. I shared my info with him on what Hyperion/Disney is looking for to fill holes on their list. At lunch I introduced him to our Los Angeles RAs, Edie and Sara, who encouraged him to attend the writer's retreat in September.

I'm excited that Charlie wants to write fiction. He's good, I think. (And I promise that's not just because I'm his mom.) Who knows? Maybe we'll do the NY conference next. He's great company.

Stuck? Walk it off...

2010-07-26T08:27:00.000-07:00

When my editor asked me about my writing habits, I told her that I include walking as part of my writing time. According to my brief research online, I'm not the only writer who does. Something about the rhythm of the walk aids meditation. The scrambled, desperate voices that harass you when you're stuck on a point in your story melt away. Other doors in the mind open and options appear. Soon, you're weaving new threads in your story or going back and filling in the missing pieces. It's sort of miraculous.

This weekend I walked for a couple hours on the beach in Santa Monica hoping that something writerly would kick in. I'm having trouble starting a new book--partly because I loved the last one too much. (All my new ideas seem pale by comparison.) Putting one foot in front of the other, I waited on my brain to catch up with me. It took awhile, but fragments started appearing to me. By the time I finished, I felt that maybe I had found my way. I plopped down on my beach chair feeling greatly relieved. Then the sun came out! It was an excellent non-writing writing day.

Incidentally, the walking technique works best when you walk alone. Just you and your little blocked brain is all the company you need.

Enjoy while the walking weather is good!

Head Writing vs. Heart Writing

2010-07-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

I spoke too soon. No way can I write this boy book. I've tried and my characters aren't coming to life. I'm making up the things they say and moving them around, but they aren't real.

Yes, I said it. Some characters are real and others aren't. Real characters take on a life of their own. They speak to the writer even when she isn't writing. The boy I tried to write about was only an idea about a boy. And because he wasn't real, he left me to do all the heavy lifting with this story. As a result, I am exhausted.

So onward to yet another experiment. The next book might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it will have a girl in it. A girl with a beating heart! A girl to commiserate with as we ramble through the succeeding chapters! I look forward to it.

One for the Boys

2010-07-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

I'm almost done with THE AVIARY, my spooky historical fantasy due out in early fall 2011, and starting a new book--with boy main characters. This is a first for me, and you'd think it'd be easy considering just how boy-centered my life has been. I have two boys, a boy husband, a boy dog. We've had our boys' friends and other boy relatives live with us. I have seen first hand what boys do, how they speak, what they love and not love so much. But I've had a bit of a rocky start.

Now after scrapping my old beginning, I think I may be on to something. I like the boys in this book. They are going to have an adventure that is guaranteed to scare the ! out of them (and me). We're in this together for the long haul! Maybe my own boys will even read this one when it's done. (Girls will like it too, though. How do I know? I'm a girl.)

Apple MacBooks are Lactose Intolerant (and other things I learned on my summer vacation...)

2010-07-01T07:56:00.001-07:00

So I'm eating a bowl of raisin bran, browsing my email, and I spill milk on the trackpad of my laptop. Doesn't work so well after that. Kind of sickly. Now that I've got a new trackpad, I've learned my lesson: I'm using lactose-free milk the next time I spill. Maybe that will help?

Here are some other things I learned in Palm Desert:
There is nothing on TV when you want to watch it.
The show on world's worst drivers is actually pretty compelling.
108 degrees feels like 112 degrees.
Sunset in the desert is dreamy and the falling shadows make the world a living painting.
The best food in town may be found at the Cary Grant estate.
Swimming is the best medicine.

Now back to work on a working computer.

And Now? Palm Desert...

2010-06-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

What's funny is, we reserved our time share for the hot summer just so our kids could join us. But now that the kids have jobs, they can't go! It's going to be a working vacation for me anyway. I'm digging in to my new novel and intend to get a lot done poolside, under an umbrella with a cool drink. For fun, we're having dinner at a restaurant on the old Cary Grant estate--so we'll manage to get some tourist time in as well.
103 degrees, here we come.

Back from NYC

2010-06-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

What a great trip! First we met up with my nephew Carl, his girlfriend Laura and our family friend Brian at the Gramercy Tavern. Then I joined my childhood friend Tanya Becker for a day at the theater and a late trip to the Empire State Building (my first time to see the view at night). The fabulous illustrator Julie Fortenberry and her family met us in Greenwich Village for a great Italian meal. Then there were visits to the Metropolitan Museum and my favorite Neue Gallery, with its gorgeous Viennese restaurant. I was in museum heaven.

As I do almost every year, I met with my trusty agent Marcia Wernick to catch up with what's going on. And last, but not least, I had the opportunity to meet with my new editor at Knopf, Joan Slattery, for the first time. She is a delight, and I feel lucky.

I'm so encouraged by the progress we're making on THE AVIARY. It'll be out in fall 2011 and will include some surprises in its design. It's gonna be a beautiful book!

To Random House I Go...

2010-06-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I'm off to New York City where I'll hit the museums, see a show, meet up with old friends and touch base with my editor and agent. This will be my husband's first visit to Random House, and I'm sure he'll be as impressed as I was when I first saw the floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of venerable first editions in the foyer. I love New York. I consider myself lucky to have an excuse for an annual excursion. Until next week, farewell!

Why Not?

2010-05-26T12:48:00.001-07:00

I'm in the process of dreaming up a book with a gorgeous male protagonist. I think he's going to look and act like Montgomery Clift--the loveliest movie star ever, in my opinion. Looks like I'm going to be spending the whole summer with him, judging by the length of the manuscript. Not bad, eh?

Oh Happy Day...

2010-05-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, we celebrated my son's graduation (with honors) from Pitzer College. He worked like a dervish these last few weeks, staying up into the wee hours, consuming pots of coffee for that final thesis paper--all for this moment. Sometimes you just have to stop and say hallelujah.

Some Enchanted Evening...

2010-04-22T21:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is Tim Gunn. With me! It is not a cardboard cutout. My friend Amy and I went to Kate Spade where Tim gave fashion tips and answered questions about Project Runway while the crowd sipped champagne. He is adorable. I love him, even my husband and son love him, and they don't care about fashion. We were giddy, Amy and I! I believe I'm gonna put this picture on a tshirt--right after I find out who won Project Runway. (Thank goodness for Tivo.)

It Just Looks Like Lazy....

2010-04-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

I was just telling a friend how unfashionable I feel. I can't multitask. I do one thing at a time and I go deep into the zone while I'm there. Sitting is a favorite activity, along with staring out the window. A lot goes on in my head, but I don't break a sweat. It looks like lazy from where you're sitting, I'm sure.

I also talk to myself. I'm constantly interrupted mid-conversation, too. So that looks nutty. I know I should be training for a marathon and booking school visits and cleaning the garage all simultaneously, but I'm happy eating a banana. In a chair. For like an hour.

And when I get up, I feel like I had a little adventure. But you wouldn't know it, because it looks like garden-variety sloth and lack of ambition from the outside.

Maybe I should mention that I do take a daily walk. It's part of my writing routine, really. Gets the juices flowing for more hours of sitting and sporadic typing. Oh, and I make coffee. That's pretty industrious, isn't it? I like to think so.

SCBWI Writer's Day Redux

2010-04-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

Thanks to helpful SCBWI-er Rita Crayon Huang, I now have pictures of the Writer's Day speakers. From top to bottom: Libba Bray, Jill Corcoran, Rachel Abrams, Lisa Wheeler and me. And a good time was had by all.

I enjoyed reconnecting with Lisa. Her straightforward presentation on rhyming picture books made me want to try one (again). Meeting Libba Bray was a pleasure. I suspect she has a much more roomy brain than I do. She's a marathon writer with great scope. Jill Corcoran's talk on submitting queries made me realize that thanks to the internet, the game of submitting and researching potential agents and editors has changed greatly since the olden days. And Rachel Abrams, editor at Harper Collins, touched on every single thing a submitting author must know if she hopes to see a first book in print.

I talked a whole lot about the emotions a writer goes through trying to break in, doing revisions, getting dumped and succeeding at last. I wanted to hug everyone in the audience after I was done, because (as Marvin Gaye once said) we're all sensitive people. Sure, publishing is a business, but everyone is in it out of love. Keeping open is sometimes hard, but as writers, we don't know how to do it any other way.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KELLI!

2010-04-11T20:26:00.000-07:00

Wish I could be with you to dance to this!

Happpppppyyyyyyyy DAY!

Hip hip hooray! It's Writers Day!

2010-04-08T12:21:00.000-07:00

I'm so looking forward to meeting these speakers and all the rest of the SCBWI-ers attending this event. Hope you'll come too!

Saturday, April 10, 2010
8 a.m.-5 p.m.
Clairbourn School
San Gabriel, CA

Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful...

2010-03-28T20:42:00.000-07:00

I adored this Cinderella when I was a kid. Leslie Ann Warren is an ocean of emotion--she yearns until her large brown eyes brim with tears. Just as quickly, when her hopes are dashed, she's reduced to chin-quivering desperation. She sits in "her own little corner" and lives a lot in her head. What's kept her going through a life of drudgery and serious underestimation? Her rich fantasy life! Even when she's dressed in a ball gown and enchanting a prince, she sings, "Is this the sweet invention of a lover's dream?" She's been dreaming so long, she can't quite accept it when reality finally lives up.

I swear, I spent most of my young life in that same space in my head. Life was actually pretty boring and not at all glamorous--but in my head? Fabulous. My favorite state of mind was a fervent yearning that bordered on ecstasy. I confess that I still go for it once in awhile. In my own little corner, of course.

Hanging w/the Grownups

2010-03-13T08:16:00.000-08:00

I had the pleasure to attend a day-long conference in Long Beach last weekend that featured a slate of accomplished women writers. Literary Women has been run by a staff of book-loving volunteers for the last twenty-eight years. For my friend, Marcy Moody, working on the LW staff has been a labor of love. I'm grateful for her invitation to attend, as I was anxiously waiting on revisions and particularly needed a writerly shot-in-the-arm. A special treat for me was lunching with Jane Hamilton, an author perhaps best known for her novel A MAP OF THE WORLD. She's vibrant and fun--and one of the most entertaining writers I've heard speak.

Anyway, when I got those revision notes in my mailbox the next day, I felt refreshed and ready to dig in and do the work. Usually I have to lie on a divan and fan myself for a good week. But no vapors this time! You can bet I'm putting Literary Women on my calendar every year.

Frug Therapy

2010-02-28T22:39:00.000-08:00

I'm the go-go girl in the cage upper right...

Skeletons in My Genealogical Closet

2010-02-24T17:12:00.000-08:00

Seeking out one's roots can be either exhilarating or mortifying--especially when you come across documents that add to or contradict your "family myth." I've found out so many things that no one ever talked to me about while I was growing up, and all the revelations concern grandfathers. (I suppose this is because it's often more difficult to find documents regarding the maternal line.)

So far, I've found a census document showing that one of my beloved granddads had a first marriage to a much older woman. (Never heard of her!) And then there is the jailed Confederate sympathizer who was chased out of Missouri. (The family story had it that he had left for the West because he didn't want to take sides in the war between the states.) I have also found that another ancestor, Levi Scott, one of the blazers of the Applegate Trail, was involved in some battles with native people that easily could have and certainly should have been avoided.

But now this! I'm a direct descendant of one of the witnesses against Sarah Cole, accused witch. I've found the document from the 1690's and have posted it above.

What's odd is that when I was in grade school, I went through a period where I was obsessed with the Salem trials. I remember reading a book filled with woodcut illustrations and struggling with the text which was written in that old-timey type that substitutes the letter 'f' for the letter 's'. I tried to put myself in the shoes of those people. What had they actually seen? What were they really so afraid of?

Funny, I might have been reading about my own relatives.

A Day at the Playground

2010-02-14T22:24:00.000-08:00

During a trip to the playground at our local park, I thought I'd join my nine-year-old friend in some gymnastics. I remembered hanging upside down from the bars by my knees and dismounting by flipping backward like a jumping jack when I was a kid. Well, first I had to get up on the bar. That, in itself, was nothing like my memories. Talk about limited range-of-movement... Anyway, after I had ungracefully hoisted myself up and dangled upside-down, it occurred to me that I felt as heavy and inflexible as a grand piano. No way was I going to dismount with a back flip. So I tried loosening one leg separately, lost a shoe and slipped earthward, butt into the sand. It was so odd, having this "body-memory" of litheness and ease. Was that really me back then, or did I dream it?

Next, I thought to conquer the swings. No big deal, right? Just swings. But I found that as I pumped higher and higher, I felt vaguely queasy. Maybe that previous upside-down stuff was the culprit? But if you had told me when I was nine that someday I'd be queasy on the swing set, I would not have believed it.

I want a do over! Next weekend I'm going back with my friend and try it again. I can't accept it! Surely it'll all come back... with a little practice?

Because I've Been Thinking of Birds...

2010-02-10T22:19:00.000-08:00

(photo: Wired Magazine)

Littlefoot, 19,
[This is the bird hour]  
by Charles Wright
19
This is the bird hour, peony blossoms falling bigger than wren hearts
On the cutting border's railroad ties,
Sparrows and other feathery things
Homing from one hedge to the next,
                                           late May, gnat-floating evening. 
Is love stronger than unlove?
                                            Only the unloved know.
And the mockingbird, whose heart is cloned and colorless.
And who's this tiny chirper,                          
                          lost in the loose leaves of the weeping cherry tree? 
His song is not more than three feet off the ground, and singular, 
And going nowhere. 
Listen. It sounds a lot like you, hermane.                                                           
                                                               It sounds like me.

Happy New Year! Getting Back to Work...

2010-01-26T10:44:00.000-08:00

My (soon-to-be-nine-year-old) friend, Alexia, and her big sister Missy are both back at school and busy with homework. We're usually here together at my house on weekends, bent over our computer screens. Alexia plays games that reinforce her memorization of times tables. Missy, a student at UCLA, writes papers on international politics. I, on the other hand, am usually combing the Gutenberg Project, researching nonfiction from the Victorian era for a potential book. There's an equal wealth of entertaining and appalling advice to be found.

An example of wisdom from The Ladies' Book of Useful Information:

DAYS OF THE WEEK—THEIR IMPORTANCE AT THE NATAL HOUR.

A child born on Sunday shall be of long life and obtain riches.

A child born on Monday will be weak and effeminate.

Tuesday is more unfortunate still, though a child born on this day may, by extraordinary vigilance, conquer the inordinate desires to which he will be subject; still, in his violent attempts to gratify them, he will be in danger of a violent death.

The child born on Wednesday will be given to a studious life, and shall reap great profit therefrom.

A child born on Thursday shall attain great honor and dignity.

He who calls Friday his natal day shall be of a strong constitution, and perhaps addicted to the pleasures of love.

Saturday is another ill-omened day; most children born on this day will be of heavy, dull, and dogged disposition.

As a person born on Saturday, I object! (Okay, maybe I am a little dogged.) And if you're born on a Tuesday? My sympathies to you!

Even if you aren't writing an historical novel, the Gutenberg Project can provide endless distractions from whatever work you are avoiding at the moment. I highly recommend it.

Research on Advertising's Colorful History

2009-11-28T11:25:00.000-08:00

Since my latest novel, THE AVIARY, takes place at the beginning of the twentieth century, I've become interested in the early advertising I researched for the book. When I learned that my local museum would be featuring a whole collection of early lithography, I knew I had to see it for myself.

The exhibit is titled COLOR EXPLOSION--and it is a feast for the eyes. The inks used in early color lithography are gorgeous and apparently pretty sturdy, as all the posters and calendars displayed were full of saturated hues. The example I've displayed here is not one of the more colorful posters; but it is one of the most fun.

If you're in southern California before mid-February, catch the show at the beautiful Huntington Library and Gardens. If you're like me, you won't be able to resist picking up a poster or two for yourself. I chose two: one for a gift and the other (a seed catalogue cover bursting with sunny yellow flowers) for my kitchen.

New Holiday Fiction for American Girl

2009-11-05T07:53:00.000-08:00

We've taken down the artificial cobwebs, stowed the jack o' lanterns and are now anticipating Thanksgiving and the holidays. I just received my November/December issue of American Girl featuring my short story about a misdelivered Christmas present. One of the pleasures of writing for the magazine is seeing the illustrator's interpretation of the story. Take a peek if you get your hands on a copy!

My Visit from the Halloween Cupcake Goddess

2009-10-28T07:27:00.000-07:00

My friends, Alexia and Missy, decorated Halloween cupcakes and used the leftover muffin cups as inspiration for an unusual costume. Both will join us on Saturday night for some trick-or-treating and handing out candy.

Last year, Alexia made good use out of my karaoke machine by turning up the echo and making ghost sounds for visitors. After the trick-or-treaters went home, we dug into the candy, loaded some CD's and sang Elvis songs for each other.

Looking forward to another sugar-fueled Elvis-a-thon this year, too. Hey, I think we have holiday tradition in the making!

Booooooo!

On location (in my living room)!

2009-10-20T14:30:00.001-07:00

The television show, Criminal Minds, is taping some scenes in my home today. All my living room furniture went to a warehouse yesterday so that our California house would be transformed into the home of a Virginia sheriff.

Above, see the picture my husband snapped of Joe Mantegna and co-stars, readying themselves to remove a body on a gurney from the O'Dell-Smith household. The crew is professional, friendly and efficient, and the whole episode has been a lot of fun!

Having Fun with Authors and Illustrators

2009-09-30T19:11:00.000-07:00

Jon Sciesczka, David Shannon, Mac Barnett and Adam Rex kicked off their book tour here as part of a benefit for our new local library. I took my book-loving pal, Alexia, with me, and the guys did not disappoint. There was a little something in their presentation for everybody: parents, kids, aspiring illustrators, authors and picture book fans of all stripes. And did I mention they were all very funny?

Alexia chose the Scieszka/Shannon collaboration, ROBOT ZOT. She was so thrilled to get their autographs, she kept hugging the book to her chest and smiling. When Alexia visits my house, she usually writes and illustrates at least one book, sometimes two. Perhaps she'll be the one signing autographs someday. If so, I'll be first in line.

The Glendoveers Come to Life

2009-09-16T20:36:00.000-07:00

In my newest book for Knopf, I write about a fictional family called the Glendoveers whose children were kidnapped in 1855. I had named the brothers and sisters already: Frances, intense, unsentimental and scholarly, was the oldest daughter; gentlemanly and dreamy George Jr. was the eldest brother; Helen, the little sister loved sweets and dancing; Arthur,the middle sibling was a restless climber of trees who would rather play outside than eat supper; and Peter, the youngest and Arthur's shadow, was dapper and loved his clothes.

In order to get some ideas of what the children would look like and how they would dress, I searched the internet for pictures of children from that time. When I came upon this photograph of the Davis family of Cayuga County New York, taken in in 1850, I felt my skin prickle. These were my Glendoveers--or, rather, my concrete image of them. Now that my first draft is almost done, I've referred to the pictures so many times that I feel these children inhabit my story.

Of course, I don't know anything about the real Davises except that they were a handsome group--but I owe a debt of thanks to these children and to the direct, intelligent gaze of the eldest sister, who became a favorite character.

I'm guessing that the youngest children are being helped to hold still for the cameras In the old days, pictures were not taken in the split second they are now. The subjects had to stay motionless for seconds while the camera's shutter opened its eye to the light.

Thanks to the internet and a thriving community of amateur genealogists, family photos from all eras are available for us to view. I don't know about you, but if the photograph is old and the subjects are compelling, I'm just as fascinated by the images as if the people pictured belonged to my own family.

My Theory About the Girl in the Hammock

2009-09-01T18:58:00.000-07:00

Do you know what? If I were to write a story about the girl in Winslow Homer's picture, I would say that she was reading a book she chose herself. Aren't those the books we abandon ourselves to--the ones we select as we would choose a friend?

Before I reached high school, every book I read that I truly loved was either a book I chose, or one that was read to me. The first book I remember checking out with my new library card was sitting in a cardboard box by the driver's seat of the visiting Bookmobile. The girl on the cover had a messy ponytail, blushy cheeks and long eyelashes. The cover was so pretty, I had to have the book for myself, though my mother would have to read it for me.

The book was CHARLOTTE'S WEB. I'd never heard of it. Neither had my mom. But she read it to my brother and me every night, and it was by far the most absorbing, wrenching and delightful book I could ever imagine. Picking that book out of all the books in that big truck made me feel like a lucky person--as if I were born with an instinct for choosing the best. I've always liked combing through bookshelves, pulling out volumes that appealed to me for the quirkiest reasons. I've found some gems that way, and I believe it is one of the best ways for children to explore books.

That's why I was thrilled to read in the New York Times about Lorrie McNeill, a middle school teacher in Georgia who has abandoned classroom sets of assigned novels for her classes. Instead, the students may read what they want, including the much-maligned (unfairly, I think) CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS books. Afterward, both students and teachers share their discoveries. Books are passed around and borrowed. Everyone is reading for love! Can you imagine?

Children's writers have a stake in having their books purchased in volume for classroom reading. When our books are on summer reading lists and assigned AR points, we benefit. But do the kids? I doubt it, though this is just my intuition speaking. Observing how often early reading in schools is over-directed has always made me heartsore. It's the same feeling, for me, as seeing a wild bird in a cage with its feathers drooping. I say, go discover! Let your curiosity and your passion be your guide.

The Girl in the Hammock

2009-09-01T11:37:00.001-07:00

That beautiful Winslow Homer Painting at the top of the page, "Girl in a Hammock," is a favorite of mine. I saw it first at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art during a Homer exhibition. Have you ever seen a painting or a picture you wished you could live in? That's how I felt about "Girl in a Hammock." Note the sunspot lighting her book from her right; the greens dark and velvety in some places and alive with yellow in others.

There are other paintings with young women in deep green woodland settings, and they all appeal to me. Take this Ophelia by Arthur Hughes, for example (above). She looks like a fairy with that crown of weeds.

I live in a wooded neighborhood in an old Tudor house with dark wood panelling. I made sure to get a velvet couch in the color of moss for my living room. It's a lovely place to read--almost as good as a forest, but with air conditioning or a fireplace when you need it, and electric lamps to simulate that pool of sunlight.

American Girls Read My Mini-books

2009-08-31T20:14:00.000-07:00

I'm a frequent contributor to American Girl Magazine (catch my new short story in the December '09 issue). AG has taken a few of my stories and turned them into mini-books that accompany their doll clothes.

Here is ALLY ACKERMAN IN THE PINK--a story about a girl who really, really does not like pink--sold with a pretty little pink dress with hearts.

Seeing that all sorts of shades of pink are included in my own personal favorite colors, I was quite pleased. And it was cool to go to the American Girl store in L.A. last week with my niece and show her the books prominently displayed.

Frankly, one of the biggest thrills of working for AG is that they're a Mattel Company. When I see the Mattel label on their correspondence, I can't help but think back to when "You can tell it's Mattel--it's swell!" was a refrain on children's TV ads all Saturday morning. When I was a kid, Mattel was the great American toy maker. In fact, Mattel was on par with the North Pole in those days when it came to toys kids wanted for their Christmas lists. So don't blame me if I feel almost like an honorary elf, myself, nowadays.

Back to the workshop...

Blog rises from ashes...

2009-08-31T16:47:00.000-07:00

We've been breathing smoke from southern California's Station Fire for six days now. The mountains around my neighborhood are aglow with flames, it is nearly 100 degrees, and I just got a call that we must conserve electricity. So there goes the air conditioning.

Working is difficult when the conditions are this miserable. Just ask the spiders in my back yard. All their webs are clotted with ash and useless after all that hard labor. As for me, writing with a head full of smoke has been more difficult than I thought. So I turned to blogging this afternoon, instead.

I'm one of the last writers I know to join this trend. It's one of those things I should have done a looooooong time ago. So here goes. Glad to meet you, whoever you are. Hope your neighborhood is cool, clear and smoke free...