A love letter

Dear SKY readers:

After last week's post, I realized I forgot to give credit where credit is due--to whom do I owe my first published year (besides my awesome friends at Flux)? You, kind readers. You have been astoundingly generous and completely wonderful to me. Thank you for taking Morgan into your heart and understanding her. Thank you for carrying her around the world.

I hope you laughed, too. She's a drama queen, isn't she? But she means well.

With my love and gratitude--let's do it again sometime--

Kirstin

(graphic swiped from here)

Yawp, yawp, yawp, yawp . . .

. . . yawp yawp YAWP!

First, anybody know who this handsome young dude is?

That's right! It's our friend Walt Whitman, also known to me and my students as Uncle Walt, sometimes Gay Uncle Walt. I truly, truly heart Uncle Walt. He is into excess (soooo many words!), he has a bit of an ego, plus he is wonderful at detail and is deeply, DEEPLY in love with the world. Plus, without him we couldn't have had lots of other fabulous poets, like William Carlos Williams and Alan Ginsburg.

Why Uncle Walt right here and now? These lines:

"I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world."

Those words are close to the end of his crazy-ass, wonderfully intense and immense poem "Song of Myself," from his book LEAVES OF GRASS, published in 1855 (he self-published the first edition with his own money!). Every time I think writing is stupid (like today), or blogging is pointless (like a lot), I think of Whitman's words, and I take courage.

If he can yawp, I can yawp. Someone will hear us. And if not, we did it anyway. That's what matters.

The year of living bifurcatedly

Bifurcation = a split. Your word nerd moment of the day. Notice how the yin/yang is split? More on this later.

I have now been a published YA author for just over one year. Craziness. Complete awesomeness. The time went FAST. Of course, I’ve learned things. A*lot* of things:

1) my YA writing colleagues are kind, giving, smart, and tons of fun. I am honored to be part of such a crowd that's so generous. I knew this before I was published, actually.

2) I love my publishing house. Flux and its peeps are the absolute bomb.

3) I am a shy person online, but not in person. It's a mystery. I’m working on it.

4) When you are a debut novelist, don’t teach extra classes.

5) My jealousy can be intense, which both shames me and motivates me. It also doesn’t last long, which helps, because it’s overcome by #s 1 and 2, hearing from readers, and working with book peeps everywhere.

6) People don’t want to read my book.

7) People want to read my book.

8) “Success” is relative, depending on where you’re standing.

#s 1, 2, 3, and 4 are self-explanatory. #s 5 & 6: if I want to sell a million copies and be on the New York Times bestseller list, I need different material. Contemporary YA (and/or edgy YA) is a perennial category—like the sun, we just exist—and we are not generally a hot topic. That’s all right. We persist in our wonderfulness. Some days I think I should aim for trendy, but the hot would be cold by the time the book got to market.

#7 & 8 (still related to #s 5 & 6): Man oh man. Was I "successful"? Depends on who you ask. My publisher: “well, um, sales, yeah, some, well, she almost won an award, so, um . . . maybe?” (I honestly don’t know what they’d say. They might refer you back to #3). My family: “We have no idea. When is supper?” Me: “my book got read on 4 continents, and some people really understood Morgan and Tessa. I met cool people and got to do cool stuff, including seeing/listening to Neil Gaiman, and I got to talk about what I love. Hell yeah I’m a success!” New York Times bestseller list . . . well, you know.

There's a give and take between writing your passion and being marketable--this is the bifurcated part. I haven't mastered it yet. Do I write that crazy-ass storyline about those boys in the Laundromat or should I try a zombie romance (I do like that idea)? Even my husband said, when I was pitching an idea, “You need to write more marketable books.” Ouch. He doesn't know the biz, but he's a reader, so he knows what he likes. And readers vote with $.

And that's the bottom line--publishing is a business (duh) and runs on money. My literature teacher side says WOW THAT SUCKS IT SHOULD BE STORIES. And stories still matter. But marketing possibilities trump stories—-it just happened to me, and it hurt for a bit. But I can’t begrudge folks the opportunity to run a profitable business. No profitable publishers = no books at all.

So. Was it a good year? The best. Will there be more like it? I really, really hope so. Which to write next—-laundromats or zombies? I don’t know. I just want more years to find out.

Outlaw Boots, pair #2: Kurtis Scaletta

Today, friends, we have our second installation of Outlaw Boots, this time featuring middle-grade author Kurtis Scaletta. True confession: my kid loves Kurtis' books, which is enough endorsement for me, but I think Kurtis is awesome, too.

What does Kurtis write? Funny boy stuff (I love funny boy stuff): baseball games that get rained out for years and years (MUDVILLE), guys who have a thing for poisonous African snakes--in Africa (MAMBA POINT), and scary fungus run amok (THE TANGLEWOOD TERROR, out in Fall 2011)

Here's Kurtis.


Here's why he wears Outlaw Boots.

Who's your most outlaw character (in any book)--why?
- Sturgis Nye from Mudville. As a pitcher he's a fan of the beanball.
As a kid, he's gotten into a scrape or two. And his theme song is
"Outlaw" by The Cult!


Are you an outlaw too? How do you know?

- No, I'm very lawful. I don't even speed when I drive. Seriously.


What kind of shoes does your outlaw wear (you or your character--maybe
outlaw boots?)?
- Snakeskin cowboy boots.



Pirate, ninja, nerd, other outlaw title for you/your character:
- I like the cowboy-style outlaw. Jesse James or Butch Cassidy.



Best thing about being an outlaw:
- Playing harmonica.



Favorite outlaw food:
- Key lime pie and black coffee at a highway diner in the middle of nowhere.


Favorite outlaw role model/why:
- Robin Hood, because (at least in the legend) turned to crime out of
a sense of justice. But a version where he's a cowboy outlaw.


Tune in next month for the next installment of Outlaw Boots! Kurtis is one of my role models for how to write funny boy happenings, so I need to go read about Linus and his mamba.

The week's favorite things

BEWARE: blaspheming ahead.

Here are my favorite things for this week:

Be careful with that touching, guys. And do your hair like these ladies--He'll like you even more.


Both images swiped from here.

Now for my new motto:


Go, friends, go! Do epic shit! And *you* decide the definition of "epic". You don't have to save the world. Just spend an hour with your grandma. GO!

Silence is the new conflict

This guy is an environmentalist named John Francis. In 1971, he witnessed an oil spill in the San Francisco bay, and he swore off motorized transportation for 22 years. But--more amazing to me--in 1973, he decided to be silent. FOR 17 YEARS, with the exception of 1 phone call to his mom after 10 years. No writing, even. He taught himself Indian Sign Language, then realized nobody spoke it, then just used gestures and touch and pantomime. 17 YEARS, FRIENDS. I couldn't do it for 17 days , even though I desperately want to right now. But teachers/writers don't get very far without communicating. And--get this--the guy completed 3 college degrees (including a Ph.D.), all in silence.

John Francis matters to me right now because of two things: 1) I need a conflict for my next novel, and I can see a teenage boy refusing to speak for long periods of time; and 2) he was a black man who carried a banjo (see above), and this intrigues me. Of all things--a banjo. Francis said that if he *didn't* carry his banjo, then he was a tall threatening black man. If he *did* carry his banjo and play it, then he was a friendly guy with a banjo, not a tall threatening black man. I admire his ability to hide and/or change stereotypes with a goofy instrument, though it sucks he had to think that way in the first place.

John Francis claims he set out to show one person can make a difference. His Planetwalker organization continues to work for environmental change and goodness, which is fantastic, plus he made a difference to me--he gave me a conflict for my character (at least an initial one, though we know how revision changes things, grr). I'm going to study this dude some more.

Tell me, friends: could *you* be silent for 17 years?

Happy/sad/mad + characters

I love how life contributes to art. Or not.

At the moment, I'm trying to write some big emotions for a couple characters, and I'm not quite getting there. Things are still flat. So what does Life decide to do? Hand me situations that I can translate to the page. Grrr . . . I've gotten brained with the sad stick and pounded with the angry stick about sixty times this week (thank you, birth family! thank you, publishing industry!), but hey, it's great for my WIP, right? Grrr. But now I get the sadness that drags Callie down, and the anger that eats up Ray's insides. Still--dang--I'm tired!

Luckily, life also whacks you with the happy stick, and those beatings contribute to the goofy, silly things my characters do. So, some things that have made me happy this week:

Image swiped from here, and the guy with the website is the guy with the funny sign. LOVE. IT. And yay for same-sex marriage in California!








Also this:

I was in the mood to strafe the world, and I let them do it for me. Perfect. Plus it's a decent action film with a relatively coherent script.

Back to your regularly scheduled emotions. Whew.