July 4th 1866, firecrackers & My Darlin' Clementine

Several years ago in a small Colorado town, we were awakened at dawn by the thunderous boom of a cannon. Turns out it was July 4th and one of the traditions in this burg was to blast everyone out of bed before sunup to begin celebrating, like it or not.

I was reminded of this when researching My Darlin' Clementinefor Holiday House. The story is set in an Idaho mining camp, in 1866, where there was constant clamor from the stamp mills, from brawling, gambling, gunshots and rough language. And on July 4th there was extra special noise: Black powder explosions started at dawn along with Chinese firecrackers, which continued throughout the day. The afternoon entertainment really grabbed my attention: anvil firing. What the heck was that? Might as well weave it into the novel!
So Clementine described how two blacksmiths each carried a heavy iron anvil in their arms, from their livery stable down Main Street [PHOTO, above].   "When they reached the meadow, one of the smithies set his out in the open. Dog Face Sam was waiting there with a sack of black powder, which he poured onto the anvil's flat surface. Next he laid out a long white fuse that dropped to the grass. The second smithy brought over his anvil and set it upside down on the first one, so the two flat sides were together.
       A sandwich is what came to mind, a dynamite sandwich.
       Before you could count to ten, Dog Face Sam had struck a match against a stone, lit the fuse, and was yelling, 'Run for your lives!'"
       I was on the schoolhouse step watching the spectacle of folks running into the woods as fast as they could, men holding onto their hats and ladies shrieking, children scattering every which way. 
      A boom shook the ground like cannon fire. Black smoke rose up with the explosive clank of iron upon iron. No one got killed that I could tell, but a small boy knocked himself out from running into a tree."

Now that's a party! Happy Independence Day everyone ... I hope you're safe and not awakened by cannons!

banning a kid's book from the children's section: the power of one self-righteous parent

This weekend I read with interest a Wall Street Journal article about edgy children's literature. In Darkness Too Visible, Meghan Cox Gurdon took many of my colleagues to task for writing explicit or violent novels for teens. I admire these Young Adult authors. It takes guts to tell stories that aren't going to end up as a Hallmark movie.

I thought, well at least my books won't be ripped to shreds by Ms. Gurdon. Most are for younger kids anyway and are fairly pleasant. No dogs die and there's usually a happy ending. HOWEVER, I love researching history and learning stuff they didn't teach in school -- which is a lot. I've been privileged to have publishers who trust me to tell-it-like-it-was and weave truths into stories that hopefully will inspire kids to read and learn. And hopefully inspire them to care about the future, seeing to it that our country doesn't repeat mistakes of history.

Silly me! Yesterday, I received an email from a mother who disapproves of The Winter of Red Snow, a Dear America story set at Valley Forge during the Revolutionary War. Her letter:

[no salutation] "My 9 yr old daughter, who is a gifted and talented student, has loved reading the Dear America Series (approximately 14 of them). Here are her comments about your book that I felt I had to pass them on to you:

     'I think it's inappropriate for someone my age, especially the part with the human hands and feet in a trough. I understand it you're trying to make it as detailed as possible but I think it's too much. Also it makes me afraid to read other Dear America books because I don't want to have to read something that makes me cry.'

     Just for your information, Ms Gregory, we have reported the gore of your book to our local library and they pulled it off the shelf of the juvenile section...I think maybe they're reshelving it for Young Adults in another location.

Thank you, 'Jane Doe'"

Hm. We've handed our kids a messed up world -- political chaos, wars in the Middle East, economic disaster, bullying and shootings in their schools, a nuclear meltdown, an epidemic of teen and young adult suicide -- and this mother is so worried that her daughter might cry at a shred of historic realism that she marches down to her local library and succeeds in having the book taken off the shelf so that other children and families won't be able to access it in the juvenile section? Are you kidding me!

What about the "gifted and talented student" destined to be our future president of the United States? I hope she will have been allowed to read and to cry and to be horrified by the affects of war, and that she -- okay, or he -- will be appalled by overprotective parents trying to ban books because the topics are icky.

I'm appalled. And I'm furious. I edited out my earlier rough language here, even though it would have bumped me up to the Young Adult section and put me in good company.

Readers, what do you think?

answering children's letters Part 1

This afternoon I'm taking a break from a Fun Writing Project to answer some children's letters, a different sort of fun.

My post office box was stuffed with mail from all over -- Wyoming, Iowa and Michigan, northern Sweden, and from a Mennonite boy in Pennsylvania. What delighted me the most was that many of these children had tucked in return postage to encourage my response. Or as one third-grader wrote in her pretty handwriting: "P.S. I've included a stamp and when you get a chance to write me back to my school that would be awesome."

I'm hurrying because most of the return addresses are to the schools and I worry summer vacation has already started. If teachers would PLEASE tell their students to include a home address, there's a greater chance my letter will reach them. Or if such personal detail is a 'safety' issue, have the students write in the early spring with the date so I'll know in which order to answer.

Mail from young readers is always a thrill. One fifth-grade boy from Northampton thanked me for my books then went on to more substance: his love of playing football. "I was the nose guard. I'm that guy in front of the ball snapper. We won 4 and lost 4. Let's get off of football. My favorite color is orange and my favorite food is general tos chicken. It is chinese."

I love kids! They're so refreshing.

writing for children & quirky inspiration from Roald Dahl

Last week a writer friend sent me a present: Storyteller: The Authorized Biography of Roald Dahl by Donald Sturrock (Simon & Schuster). It landed on our porch with a loud ker-thunk because, I'm not kidding, it's as hefty as a door-stop.

Roald Dahl of course is famous for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and for being outrageously quirky. On page 547 of his bio, he explains what makes a good children's writer. I love how he puts it and shall end this post with his words:

     [The writer]  must be a jokey sort of fellow ...  unconventional and inventive ... He must know what enthral[l]s children and what bores them. They love being spooked. They love suspense. They love action. They love ghosts. They love the finding of treasure. They love chocolates and toys and money. They love magic. They love being made to giggle. They love seeing the villain meet a grisly death. They love a hero and they love the hero to be a winner. But they hate descriptive passages and flowery prose. They hate long descriptions of any sort. Many of them are sensitive to good writing and can spot a clumsy sentence. They like stories that contain a threat. "D'you know what I feel like?" said the big crocodile to the smaller one. "I feel like having myself a nice plump juicy child for my lunch." They love that sort of thing. What else do they love? New inventions. Unorthodox methods. Eccentricity. Secret information. The list is long. But above all, when you write a story for them, bear in mind that they do not possess the same power of concentration as an adult, and they become very easily bored or diverted. Your story, therefore, must tantalize and titillate them on every page and all the time that you are writing you must be saying to yourself, "Is this too slow? Is it too dull? Will they stop reading?" To those questions, you must answer yes more often than you answer no. [If not] you must cross it out and start again.

controversial book covers #2: American Indians through the eyes of mainstream publishers

1989 cover

When my first novel, Jenny of the Tetons, was about to be published the bound galley arrived with a beautiful wrap-around cover. I was thrilled. At first.

Then I looked closely at the painting. The mountains weren't the Tetons and Jenny, a Shoshone Indian, resembled a white pioneer. Her face was pale, her hair short, and she wore a gingham dress. I protested vigorously to my editor. Not only was the cover inaccurate, it showed nothing of Jenny's proud heritage. I pleaded for a do-over: for Jenny to be in her native clothing, which was described in the novel, and for the Tetons to be authenticated. This is one of the most distinctive ranges in the West! That they and Jenny were generic, was a disgrace.

The painting was tweaked: Jenny's skin was darkened and she was given braids [PHOTO, above]. Dress was the same, ditto the mountains. When I asked why more wasn't done, my publisher answered, "Artistic license."

2002 paperback reprint

The paperback reprint is worse. A white girl is featured on the cover [PHOTO, right]. In the background is a fuzzy photo of an Indian woman on horseback, pulling a travois with two children in what looks like a reed cage. She is holding a baby in a cradle-board. This Jenny looks haggard and bummed out. It's a sad example of a publisher relegating a Native American to the background. Is it because of marketing in this case, that a fair-haired girl will sell more covers than a tired Indian? I hope this stereotype is just a mistake and that publishers will start doing more to honor our indigenous friends.

Jenny Leigh was a real person. She was married to an English fur trapper and they had six children. She was so respected and admired, Jenny Lake in the Tetons was named for her.

writer's block & Robert Louis Stevenson

One of my happiest memories of our boys' childhood was reading aloud to them before bedtime. The heart-thumping adventures in Treasure Island were cause for a late night and "just one more chapter." They could recite pirate Pew's last words as several horses thundered toward him:
         "Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk ... you won't leave old Pew, mates--not old Pew!" Then we'd re-read his gruesome end: "Down went Pew with a cry that rang high into the night; and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him and passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed upon his face, and moved no more."

I'm enjoying this classic once again, especially remembering it through the eyes of our young sons who are now grown-ups. And after all these years, my admiration for the author, Robert Louis Stevenson, remains high. "How'd he do that?" I wonder, savoring a scene or a stretch of pirate dialogue. He makes it seem easy.

So it was a surprise to learn that he had writer's block with this novel, which he began in 1881 on a rainy Scottish morning. He drafted the first fifteen chapters, but then set his pen down. He couldn't concentrate. Ill with tuberculosis, he traveled to Switzerland. Like Clara in the novel Heidi by Johanna Spyri, he breathed in the fresh alpine air and was soon revived. He sped through another nineteen chapters to great success. Treasure Island was serialized in the magazine, Young Folks, then published as a book in 1883. It has never been out of print.

This morning I am squirming with writer's block. A trip to the Swiss Alps would cure this! I'd be so enchanted by the beauty and cow bells, I'd get to work -- wait -- first I'd go hiking then find a café for pastry. A day would pass, then a week. Finally it would settle in that I wouldn't be able to concentrate until returning home to this plump green chair where I now sit, untroubled by tuberculosis or travel fatigue.

I'm inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson and all the other authors tormented by doubts, but who keep on picking up the pen, so to speak. So onward I trudge, trying to follow in footsteps of the great.

when the sun is hot, my characters go swimming! -- Bronte's Book Club, etc.

Every author needs at least one reader who adores her personally as well as her stories. I'm fortunate to be well-acquainted with my special reader. She and I email daily and we've had many adventures traveling, swimming, and hanging out together: my mother!

Recently we braved Alturas Lake in the beautiful Sawtooth Mountains. The water was freezing, but so clear we could see sunken logs deep, deep below. While we dried off in the sun and ate our picnic, she asked about my writing. As usual, I started digging for compliments. 

Quick to oblige, Mom said, "Honey, I just love that so many of your characters go swimming!"

Hm. I thought a minute. She was right! We started ticking off the books: When Cleopatra VII sails from Alexandria to Rome and the ship anchors at the island of Malta, well, it's HOT! The cool, blue Mediterranean beckons. Waiting for her Dinka guards to give her some space, she wades in with her maid, their "chitons float[ing] up like sails." In The Legend of Jimmy Spoon, Jimmy wants to show off his swimming skills for Nahanee so he dives in the river, but unfortunately lands a spectacular belly flop -- my little brother did that once.

after a swim 2nd from left, 1964

Then there's Bronte's Book Club. The setting is based on the small beach town of my childhood in Southern California. Bronte swims in the harbor, goes boogie-boarding and walks on the beach with her friends. When an incoming wave splashes against their knees, the friends scatter up to dry ground like sandpipers. But not Bronte. She throws up her arms and lets herself fall into the surf. She lies in the water, letting the foam wash over her, savoring the tingle of salt on her skin. I am that girl. 

My newest book, Cannons At Dawn, will be published May 1st. Abigail finds herself on a dusty trail following Washington's soldiers. It's a hot summer day, VERY hot. What a surprise ... a creek is right there and ... well I won't spoil it for you ha ha!