Sandy Asher and David Harrison

Thursday, November 2, 2017

TOPIC 16: Wait for It!

October 3, 2017
Part 1:  Sandy


David, you've inspired this exchange of thoughts with your recent comment about finding an old manuscript in your files that seemed to be asking you to come back and work on it.  Thank you!

That reunion with an old manuscript really struck a chord.  It's something that's happened to me many times over the years.  I'll bet it happens to most writers, at least now and then.  And yet we hardly ever hear it mentioned in advice articles or courses or workshops.  Sure, we're told to put a new manuscript away for a few days or weeks so we can revise it with fresh eyes and renewed energy.  But what about manuscripts that have been lying around for years?

They don't get enough respect!

In fact, they're kind of a secret, aren't they?  Maybe we're not comfortable admitting there are incomplete or unsuccessful manuscripts languishing on the back burner -- or off the stove altogether?

Well, let's shout it out here:  I don't throw anything away!  Not even if it seems hopeless and I think I never want to look at the useless thing again, let alone spend another minute of my precious writing time wrestling with it.  I hang onto it, anyway.

One just never knows when that idea's time may come.  Circumstances change.  Markets change.  Editors change.  But perhaps most importantly, WE change.  Sometimes we just have to live a little bit more, learn a little bit more, grow a little bit older and wiser -- or do a whole lot of that stuff -- to solve the puzzle certain pieces present.  

Some ideas simply knock on our door too soon, but they'll wait until we're ready to answer.  The very first of my successful file-digging finds is probably something of a record holder.  It was a story I wrote for a college creative writing course.  It earned a respectable grade at that time, but it wasn't until 18 years later that I hauled it out, revised it, and sold it.  Yes, you read that right:  18 years!

Fresh out of college, I tried sending it off to what I thought were appropriate publications, but it never found a home.  No doubt, that's because I was aiming at literary journals.  I just didn't know enough to understand what I'd actually written, or even what kind of writer I was meant to be -- a children's author.  After the story collected a depressing number of rejections, it went into my file cabinet and there it stayed, abandoned and, eventually, forgotten.  

Some years later, I enrolled in elementary education classes at Drury College (now Drury University) where my husband was teaching.  (I've always enjoyed working with kids, I just didn't know I was supposed to be writing for them!) One required class changed everything:  Methods of Teaching Children's Literature.  It was there that I first read young adult novels.  Suddenly, I felt as if I'd been wandering all my life and had finally found home.  My whole approach to my work -- and its marketing potential -- shifted.  

Not long after that epiphany, I read about an educational publisher looking for stories about teenaged protagonists for a graded reading series.  I found my old college story, reread it with new perspective, and sent off the requested query.  There was interest.  BUT.  There were also a few requirements for this series:  I had to count not only word length, but average number of syllables, and I had to work in six new vocabulary words twice each.  Considerable revision was in order!  

The ensuing labor only made the story better.  After it was accepted, I enjoyed a long, productive, and profitable relationship with that publisher.  Plus, with each story needing to comply with stringent length, reading difficulty, and vocabulary requirements, I honed my revision skills.  Big bonus!

So, in 18 years, my focus changed, and my writing improved.  I also learned something about patience.  Sometimes an idea just has to wait for its time to come.

And, now, David, your time has come!

October 10, 2017
Part 2: David

Well, Sandy, you’re younger than I so I hope you’ll forgive me for having a story that tops your 18 years by three. But my tale is slightly different from yours so we may both claim the title in separate divisions.

I made my first trip to New York City for an editorial visit in 1969, the same year my first children’s book was published. Forty-eight years later I can look back on many such trips, but that first one led me to write THE BOOK OF GIANT STORIES.

From March through April, 1969 I wrote three stories in forty-seven days for the collection: The Secret, Little Boy Soup, and The Giant Who Threw Tantrums. When the stories were sent to the artist, Philippe Fix, he had an idea for his own story to add. I said no to that but agreed to write the story he wanted to illustrate, which I called, The Giant Who was Afraid of Butterflies. I didn’t realize until it was too late that Little Boy Soup had been pulled from the group and replaced by the butterfly story.

I couldn’t complain. I loved my editor, the book was gorgeous, it won a Christopher Medal, and contracts for translations started pouring in – from Denmark, Japan, Italy, Africa, Finland, Germany, and half a dozen others. But what was I to do with the single story, Little Boy Soup? I guess I didn’t know. According to my records, I never sent it anywhere else to see about placing it as a picture book on its own. Maybe my contract prevented me from publishing another giant story at the time. That was long ago and I don’t remember.

In 1988 I finally sent Little Boy Soup to my friend Ronne Peltzman, who had become the children’s editor for Ladybird Press in Loughbourough, England. The picture book was published in 1990, twenty-one years after I wrote it.

As we all know, Sandy, these late bloomers sometimes come with additional rewards. In 1989 my Sandy and I took a trip to England and while we were there I caught a train to Loughbourough to see Ronne. Another U.S. visitor was at Ladybird that day and we were introduced. Christine San Jose explained that she worked with Kent Brown at Highlights. When I told her I’d been focusing on poetry the past three years, she urged me to send my work to Kent because he was starting a book publishing division called Boyds Mills Press and one of the imprints, given entirely to poetry, was Wordsong.

The story of my growth as a poet as Wordsong grew is a tale for another time. The point here is that a story that lingered in my files for nearly as long as it takes an infant to be born, grow up, and graduate from college finally made it into print. Between 1969 and 1990, I left my position as editorial manager at Hallmark Cards in Kansas City to become president of Glenstone Block Company in Springfield, Missouri. In 1969 I had published two books. By 1990 I’d published thirty-nine. In 1969 I had a nine-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son. In 1990 my children were college graduates. Sandy and I had our first grandson. Sandy had left her teaching job in Kansas City, earned her master’s degree in guidance and counseling, and become a high school counselor in Springfield.

Could I have written Little Boy Soup in 1990 the same way I did twenty-one years earlier? Impossible. I don’t know if a later version would have been better or worse, but it would certainly have been different as a reflection of all the changes in my life during those years. What I can say for sure is that I’m glad I hung onto the story that got squeezed out of THE BOOK OF GIANT STORIES!

October 17, 2017
Part 3:  Sandy


My story "Who's Ready to Ride?" appeared in the September, 2016, issue of the Highlights magazine for 2 - 5 year olds, HIGH FIVE.   Who's ready to ride, indeed!  This story took its good old time getting ready to appear in print.

It all began at a child's birthday party in the DC area.  My great-nephew, then about six years old, was invited to attend.  I happened to be in town, so I accompanied him to the park where the party was being held.  As a point of reference, I should mention that this same great-nephew will begin college this fall.  So at least a decade passed between inspiration and publication.  Not quite the record-setting 18 years I wrote about in my last go-round, but a considerable delay none-the-less.

Back to the party:  Much to my great-nephew's delight, pony rides were included in the festivities.  A cheerful young woman with a notably patient pony did the honors, and my great-nephew, one of the first to hop on, immediately dashed to the back of the line to wait for another turn.  Again and again and again.  He was fascinated and fearless.

But what if he hadn't been?  What if there were a guest who was not quite ready to mount that pony?  Someone just a little bit nervous about the whole situation?  A character took over for my great-nephew, far more shy than he, and the hesitant, gently humorous steps toward self-confidence began to take shape in my imagination.  

I liked the story a lot.  I still do!  It's fun, and it has something important to say about new experiences.  I thought the children, the park, the party, and the pony would provide ample opportunities for illustration.  I sent it off to my agent.

She was not interested.  I put the story away.

Time passed, and I found myself temporarily between agents.  I sent the story out to book publishers on my own.  

They were not interested.  I put the story away.

More time passed, and I signed on with a new agent.  I sent her the story.  She --

Oh, never mind, you know what comes next.

Things you can count on: (1) Time will continue to pass, and (2) I do not give up easily!  Faced with a dry patch and a drop in confidence of my own, I signed myself up for a number of on-line writing challenges just to keep writing.  My own version of "get back on the horse." (You can read all about this in the July, 2013, WRITERS AT WORK posts called "Making On-Line Challenges Work for You.")  

As a response to one of the on-line challenges, the pony story was among those I pulled out of my files to revisit.  By that time, I'd discovered a new market for the kind of stories I enjoy writing -- quiet ones, often not "edgy" enough for book publication.  No zombies, few dragons.  In this case, just a pony and a little boy with "a tickly, tumbly feeling" in his tummy.  HIGH FIVE suited me just fine, and in short order, I placed 9 stories and a poem with them, including "Who's Ready to Ride?" One more revision to bring it into compliance with their length preferences, and it finally WAS ready.

Do I wish it had become a picture book?  Oh, maybe a little.  But I love Robert Dunn's illustrations, and the HIGH FIVE readership is huge.  I found a copy in my local library just the other day!  So I'm pleased, without complaint or apology, that the story finally found its proper home.

"Time will tell," in writing as in life.  You'd think things would cloud over as they fade into the past, but often they snap into focus with astounding clarity.  Sometimes when we wait, we truly see.

October 24, 2017
Part 4: David

Today I thought I’d share a couple of experiences in which filed ideas came back to life, one as a book and one as a magazine article. I’ll begin with the book.

In 1979 I wrote a story about a little boy who keeps hearing and seeing things in his bedroom one night when he is trying to go to sleep. His patient father comes in each time he yelps for help and explains that sometimes furnace pipes can make noises and limbs in the wind can scratch against the window and toys left on carpets can indeed resemble a face. I called the story THE SNORING MONSTER and confidently fired it off to an editor right away.

In due course the editor confidently fired it back. My records don’t show why I neglected to send it anywhere else that year or during the entire year that followed. For some reason I didn’t send the story out to a second editor for eighteen months. Not that it made the outcome any different. It was “no” again the second time as well as another five times after that.

The last time I submitted THE SNORING MONSTER was to an editor at Western Publishing on August 15, 1981. She passed on it. I gave up and filed it away. Sixteen months later the same editor sent me a query. She was planning a series of spooky books and wondered if I might want to submit something. Without comment I sent her the story she’d rejected the year before. She loved it. I loved that. The book was published in 1986, almost seven years after I wrote it.

Sandy, this second example may not fit the mold exactly, but I’m going to talk about it anyway because goodness knows when or whether another opportunity will come along! This one started with a phone call. At the time I was the editor for children’s cards at Hallmark Cards in Kansas City. The caller identified himself as a psychiatrist whose specialty was working with children. Someone had recommended me to him. He wanted to meet to discuss the potential for publishing some of his experiences in magazines. He wondered if I would be interested in ghost writing the articles.
We met over lunch while he outlined his plan. He would provide me all the information I needed after first deleting or changing names and removing all other clues about true identities. My articles would focus on examples, not on individuals involved. I explained that anything I wrote would include my byline and we would divide the money 50/50. He agreed.

Weeks passed without further word. Eventually we visited a second time and he spoke about the difficulties of treating two or more siblings in the same family alike. No matter how hard parents might try to deal with each child fairly and equally, changing conditions always make it impossible for their children to have the same experiences. Income changes. Health changes. Jobs change. And so on. I jotted some notes and told him that as soon as he provided the specific examples, I could start writing. He wondered how much money we were going to make from this project. When I told him the going rates, he was clearly disappointed.

He also stopped corresponding with me. By now I had invested quite a bit of time and thought in this doctor’s brainchild. His silence became a roadblock. I moved on to other work. Most obsolete materials in my files are stories and proposals I haven’t sold. This was the first time an undeveloped idea for an article had found its way into the never-never file.
Then one night some time later I pulled out my notes and asked myself a pertinent question: How much did it matter if I didn’t have specific case histories to prove the point of the article? After all, the names and other key information would be changed anyway if the doctor ever got around to sending them. Rather than give up on the idea, I would write a draft and send it to him for a response.
Based on common sense, a little research, and a few key points in my notes, I wrote the article and called it, “Are We Treating Our Children Fairly?” I mailed it to the psychiatrist to see if he liked the approach and asked again for some case histories. I figured he would be unhappy that I had gone ahead without him. Low and behold, he liked my effort. He tweaked it a bit and mailed it back within two weeks, still without the promised examples. I submitted the piece to Parents Magazine and it was rejected. I was in too deep to quit now. I sent it to five magazines at once: Family Circle, Good Housekeeping, McCall’s, Redbook, and Woman’s Day. Family Circle published it. That was in 1971. We divided $150 and called it quits.

So this isn’t really about a story that was resuscitated and found a market after all. It’s about a basic idea that almost didn’t get written. And that, friends, is why sometimes we simply have to WAIT FOR IT.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Topic 15: Loving Libraries

November 1, 2016
Part 1 -- Sandy

You'd think it would be a natural partnership:  local authors and neighborhood libraries.  But it's not.  Many libraries don't reach out to local authors.  Why not?  

Certainly, librarians are busy people.  In addition to everyday services, they organize numerous special events of other kinds.  Perhaps authors slip their minds?

Or maybe they're hesitant to approach authors, figuring they, too, are busy?  

Oh, and there's the money thing.  Librarians don't have massive discretionary funds at their disposal, and authors do prefer to be paid for presentations.  They don't earn salaries, after all, and time at the library means time away from the computer.

Still, there's the gratitude thing.  Hard to imagine an author who doesn't feel it.  There is a debt to be paid.

When I think of the library, I get a feeling that's close to worshipful.  A source of books?  Sure.  A research center?  Absolutely.  A fount pouring forth surprise, delight, inspiration, and encouragement?  Always.  But also a sanctuary, a safe place to think, wonder, dream, be still . . . and just be.  

I've felt that way since childhood, when I spent hours in the Children's Reading Room of the Free Library of Philadelphia at Logan Square, deposited there by parents needing an afternoon with adult relatives or friends.  Left alone, I was not lonely.  The library was my shelter, companion, nanny, teacher, and mentor.  Sitting on the floor between stacks, I'd breathe in my favorites:  well-worn editions of fairy and folktales of every kind, all dog and horse stories, any book written by Louisa May Alcott or L. Frank Baum.  Peter and Wendy.  Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.  A host of friends as near and dear as any of the flesh-and-blood variety.  

I dreamed of returning to that children's reading room as a grown-up and seeing my own books on those same shelves, nestled among my favorites.  I've lived that dream.  And I remain ever grateful.  

So how do I love the library?  Let me count the ways:  

Most recently, I've set my latest picture book, CHICKEN STORY TIME, and its stage adaptation, in the Children's Reading Room of a library.  Granted, I all but bury a librarian in chickens, but she prevails, and the love shines through.

Back in Springfield, MO, where I lived for 36 years, and now in Lancaster, PA, I've been involved in creating many programs for the library.  David, I'm not sure how many years you and I ran MISSOURI WRITES FOR KIDS and AMERICA WRITES FOR KIDS together, but we certainly shared a lot of happy visits to the TV studio to spotlight our colleagues' books and invite viewers to "Check it out at the library!"  

Then there have been on-site writing workshops and story-hour readings, plus visits to schools to encourage first graders to sign up for library cards, and events that have brought other authors and illustrators in for workshops, book signings, and presentations.  

Also, Springfield libraries provided free space for performances of my plays, "Little Women: Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy" and "In the Garden of the Selfish Giant."  Another script, "Walking Toward America" packed the community room and served as a fundraiser for the system.

Talk about win-win situations!  Libraries, patrons, colleagues, and I have all benefitted.

So I encourage reaching out -- in both directions.  Local authors are available for writing workshops, presentations, readings, signings, fund raisers, special events, and to help create unique programs.  Neighborhood libraries are ideal locations.  For libraries looking for authors, a Google search will lead to their websites, and many are listed on the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators site at http://scbwi.org, which links to regional SCBWI websites as well.  For authors looking for libraries, the Public Libraries site provides contact information state-by-state at http://www.publiclibraries.com.

If ever two groups should be on the same page, it's authors and their libraries!  And if ever an author has served his library system well, it's David L. Harrison.  Tell us all about it, David!

November 8, 2016
Part 2 – David

Thanks, Sandy. When I was in elementary school we didn’t live close to a public library and my school didn’t have a library except for a modest collection of books that my mother and other volunteers placed on shelves in a converted storage closet. A bookmobile came on certain days of the month and I remember waiting in line for my turn to mount the steps and enter between floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books. Then as now I loved anything about wild animals, from the smallest insects to exotic forms found a continent or two away. I had books at home to feed my need for fiction and adventure. The Hardy Boys were a particular favorite. But my link to learning about snakes and birds and butterflies – interests that would lead me one day to college degrees in biology -- was that bookmobile.

Writing came later for me so as a kid I had no dreams about becoming an author. Public libraries were my trusted source of knowledge. During my astronomy phase I checked out books on the solar system and marveled at the complexities of the universe. Later on I haunted library shelves to identify the latest addition to my collections. To a 12-year-old entomologist it’s important to know if the swallowtail he just captured is a large blue swallowtail or a variation of a female giant swallowtail.

Flash forward to my mid-thirties. Sandy and I returned to Springfield to live. By then I had published a number of books for children. I ran for the school board and won. And right away I learned that libraries in Springfield public elementary schools were in dreadful shape. The board and the superintendent worked shoulder to shoulder convincing the community to pass an enormous bond issue to pay for new school libraries throughout the district. Later on, when construction was completed, it was a great pleasure to walk into an elementary school to visit students in their brand new libraries and know that an author had something to do with making that happen. I’m sometimes credited for leading the charge but of course it took the whole board, the superintendent, and key people throughout the district to get it done. If to some extent I became a spokesman for the cause, I have to think that the kid who used to get his books from a bookmobile had a sense that it was time for the community to do better.

And of course one thing leads to another, Sandy. In 1996 you and I teamed up to create MISSOURI WRITES FOR KIDS with sponsorship support from Drury University and library support from Springfield-Greene County Library District. We featured a lot of books by good writers and always ended our programs with the tag, “Check it out at the Library.” Six years after that I found myself co-chairing a successful campaign to pass a 5-cent tax levy increase for Springfield-Greene County Library District, its first increase in 22 years.

Sandy, you mention how busy librarians are with their responsibilities and I want to second that. Children’s librarians put in busy days and not all of them think to initiate contact or generate programs with authors. And not all of them understand the dynamics (financial and otherwise) of inviting an author to come in and present a program. I’ve received e-mail invitations from a state or more away asking if I would consider driving to their location to talk to a group of children for story hour. But it’s really a two-way street and the author can certainly be more active in reaching out to his/her libraries within a working distance. More about that in my next segment on November 15.  I’ve never met a children’s librarian who wasn’t extremely helpful. I’m with you, Sandy. We do love our libraries.

November 15, 2016
Part 3:  Sandy

Recently, I spearheaded a gala that brought Lancaster County librarians and patrons together in the beautiful atrium of Millersville University's Ware Center in downtown Lancaster City.  This was my culminating event as the county's first Children's Laureate, an appointment by the Lancaster Literary Guild.  My goal was to celebrate libraries -- and also to create an event that could be duplicated elsewhere.  

Maybe where you live?  With high hopes for that, I'll share the details:

Each displaying projects their patrons created in response to my challenge to show appreciation in some unique way -- poetry, stories, posters, photos, whatever.  My favorites included one library's first steps toward interviewing area elders about donated historical photographs and a video created by first graders about a librarian's most unusual day.

Thank you for your interest in participating in the Celebrate Libraries project culminating in a gala event at the Ware Center on April 1, 2016.  I look forward to working with all of you in any way I can to make this a success.

This is meant to be a “celebrate libraries in any creative way you like” project.  My poems may be used as inspiration, a jumping-off point to show one way to celebrate, but poetry is definitely not the only way.  The challenge is to see how many unique and wonderfully creative ways we can come up with.

My hope is that each of you will respond to this challenge in a manner that is comfortable for you and fits your constituency.  Perhaps a group of young people will want to get together and create a short play or video or collection of photographs or a dance, musical number, or puppets, or maybe a scroll with all their reasons to love the library written on it.  Perhaps families will want to put together their own books of writing and/or illustration or create a poster or a performance piece of their own.  Perhaps individual young people will want to write a story or song or take photos or draw pictures or build dioramas or sculptures or – yes – even write poems.

The only “rule” I’d offer is that folks take into consideration that whatever they create will need to be brought to the Ware Center on April 1 to share with others.  We can certainly arrange wall space, tables, a stage, computers to show DVDs, and so on, once we know what that creative outpouring will include.  Perhaps we can set March 10 as the deadline for declaring project entries, so we’ll have time to plan how best to share them?  They wouldn’t need to be finished then – unless that would fit YOUR needs.  A list from each library with brief descriptions would do for planning.

Please note:  It’s important that this NOT be a competition in any way, but one, big, inclusive and joyous celebration of libraries.  Everyone’s enthusiasm is welcome!

Finally, I am happy to visit each library for an hour in January or February to inspire and brainstorm responses to the challenge.  If your constituency particularly wants a writing workshop, I can do that, but not everyone will want to celebrate with writing – and that’s fine!  Also, if you want to do a local culminating event to display projects before the Ware gala and you’d like me to participate, I would be delighted to do as many visits of that sort as I can fit in.

Please do not hesitate to contact the Library System of Lancaster Youth Services office if you have any questions and they will pass those needing my attention on to me.

Happy celebrating!

November 22, 2016
Part 4:  David

Sandy, I love your celebration of libraries event and its potential to be duplicated and spun off in other towns and cities. You’re a shining example of how authors and libraries are a perfect fit. I hope your idea catches on and is picked up by authors and illustrators elsewhere!

In this segment I want to touch on the mutual benefit of presentations and programs that bring kids to the library. Libraries already have all sorts of excellent programs on their regular menus to do just that, but adding an author to the mix can be fun for everyone concerned. These days I take advantage of our district’s beautiful facilities every chance I get. The meeting rooms are available for speakers so when a new book, NOW YOU SEE THEM, NOW YOU DON’T, came out earlier this year I chose to introduce it first with a program at The Library Center on South Campbell here in Springfield.

Kathleen O’Dell, the district’s Community Relations Director, worked with me at each step of the planning. We contacted Melinda Arnold, then Public Relations/Marketing Director for Dickerson Park Zoo and arranged to have several animals represented in my book to be brought to the library. We contacted Donna Spurlock, Director of Marketing at Charlesbridge Publishing and asked for black and white pictures from the book that the young set could use for coloring. Donna contacted the artist Giles Laroche and asked him to take some of his glorious full color paintings and render them in black and white outline for my event – no easy matter. We sent copies of poems to neighboring schools with a challenge for students to write poems of their own. We encouraged students to be prepared to read poems aloud with me. The library set up panels to display the kids’ poems and coloring sheets for a week after the event. We featured a musical group that plays arrangements of my poems. The newspaper published a notice about the event. Barnes & Noble provided books for those who wanted to purchase copies. The evening was publicized in the library’s Bookends program of coming events. I must say a fine time was had by all.

I’ve done a number of programs like that over the years. In one variation, students bring poems and are prepared to perform them individually or in groups. Sometimes the fun is having them stand beside me and read with me. We’ve invited singers to perform and actors to read. There are many ways to celebrate books and libraries and kids and their families. When librarians and authors put their heads together and combine their resources, the result can produce memorable events.

We have talked about school libraries and the vital role they also play in the lives of children. In homes where there are no books or few and getting to a public library is a challenge, the school library may provide a child’s only chance to hold a book. Many districts across the country recognize the value of bringing authors to their auditoriums and libraries to inspire students to read more as well as to write. But last year I sat in a school library and didn’t have to say one word. I was there as a guest. The entertainment was presented by student actors at Missouri State University, coached by actor/teacher Michael Frizell, as part of a program that traveled from school to school (eighteen of them) throughout the year to perform readings. They had selected poems and stories from my work to feature so I got to lean back and hear my words brought to animated life by a group of talented and energetic actors. Michael and a group of his peer equity actors performed my work at two of our public libraries too.

So, Sandy, do I love libraries? Oh, I do!

November 29, 2016
Part 5
David and friends
Hi everyone,
As Sandy Asher and I have discussed, there being five Tuesdays this month gives us a chance to add a 5th post to the November WRITERS AT WORK series, “Loving Libraries.” We’ve invited blog visitors to pitch in some of their own experiences and we’re delighted to feature them today. With thanks to our contributors, here we go.

Although my first real job (not counting babysitting) as a teen was working Saturdays at the county library, my big library experience started when I was a mother and took my boys to story hour on Wednesday mornings. Of course, the other mothers were readers or they wouldn’t have corralled their kids and hauled them to story hour. Through three moves to three different towns, I took the boys to story hour. In each library, I met women who became lifelong friends.
Veda Boyd Jones
New ebooks:
The Ranger’s Christmas Treasure
That Sunday Afternoon
Hey, David and Sandy — here’s my library story:
Back in my days as a children’s librarian, a girl about 12 asked me if the library had a copy of The Jellyfish Season. As I led her to the shelf, I wondered if I should tell her I wrote it. I handed it to her, took a deep breath, and asked her if she knew it was my book. Looking me in the eye, she said, “I thought it was the library’s book.” Already sensing I’d made a mistake, I told her I meant I’d written it. She stared at my library name tag and said, “Your name is Mary Jacob. The writer’s name is Mary Downing Hahn.” She held up the book and pointed to my name on the cover. “Well, yes,” I said, “but I remarried and my last name changed to Jacob.” Giving me a look that clearly said she wasn’t born yesterday, the girl walked away, leaving me to wonder why I felt compelled to tell a 12 year old stranger my marital history. After that, I never told any kids I was the writer of a book they’d chosen. This turned out to be good decision the day a boy asked about Wait Till Helen Comes. When I started to tell him the plot, he said, “Oh, yeah, I read this book, but you’ve got it all wrong.” As I stood there listening to him tell me about my own book, I was very glad my name tag said Mary Jacob.
Mary Downing Hahn

I have been involved with the Baxter County Library (1999-2016), then continued when the new Donald W. Reynolds Library was built in Mountain Home, Arkansas. I was a member of the Friends of the Library (FOL), hostess, and served as a board member. I have helped for several years with the FOL yearly auction, book sales, as a volunteer elsewhere when needed, helped bring authors and illustrators in the children’s library, and sometimes performed as photographer. The library supported my different writers groups and the yearly “Holiday Authors Book Sale.” I have spent a lot of time at this library and if I had my way I would live at it and be one happy camper.
Mary Nida Smith

I was visiting a school in Evansville, IN and a little boy was crying outside the library. When I asked the librarian what was wrong she told me he was upset because Eddie, Melody, Liza, and Howie were not visiting. He had been expecting the characters from the Bailey School Kids series-not one of the authors. It really brought home to me how beloved story characters can be and how important our stories can be to children.

Debbie Dadey
Debbie Dadey is the author and co-author of 162 books, including The Adventures of the Bailey School Kids series and Mermaid Tales

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Topic 14: What We Did for Love

For this series of posts, we  asked several authors to tell us about the research adventures they’ve had on their way to creating new work.  This idea was inspired by Debbie Dadey’s astounding feats, so she gets to go first.  David follows with his cave exploration, and then Sandy chimes in with her volunteer stint at the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp.  Finally, a bevy of guests take us to all sorts of unexpected places, from a Jewish ghetto memorial in China to 3000 feet into a deep sea trench in the Bahamas.

Debbie Dadey
April 7, 2015

I’ve always heard, write what you know. Perhaps it should be write what you DO. I’ve always wanted to experience what I write about if it is at all possible. So, unless it’s dangerous I do it. 

Ooops, wait a minute that isn’t true, because some people would say sliding into a shark tank or sky diving is dangerous and I’ve done both to help me write stories.

I guess this ‘doing’ thing all began when I was writing a Bailey School Adventure book with my friend Marcia Thornton Jones. When we first started writing the series, we actually sat side by side and worked out the story together. We were stuck on a scene when the kids were in a classroom. We wanted Eddie to do something a bit wild, but what? So we were ‘doers’. We went into a third grade classroom and sat down at a desk. Scraps of paper were spilling out, which we included in our story, but that wasn’t wild. It wasn’t the pencil stubs, but the scissors poking their blunt points out of the mess that gave us the idea. Eddie was sitting behind Liza and her long blond hair was swinging. Can you guess what Eddie was going to do? (Or try to do?)

So when we were writing the story, Hercules Doesn’t Pull Teeth, it made perfect sense for us to go to the dentist to do research. Sure, I’ve been to the dentist more times that I can remember, but I’d never really paid attention. So, going to the dentist and taking a few notes really helped bring the dentist’s office to life. The same was true for bringing karate practice alive in the book, Angels Don’t Know Karate. What better way to write about karate than to actually do it? It was a bit embarrassing though since my son was a higher belt and I had to bow to him. (He loved it!)

I think the key to being a ‘doer’ is to put a limited number of details into the natural flow of the story. I didn’t want Mrs. Jeepers in Outer Space to become a non-fiction book about space camp, but I did want kids to feel like they were really there. So I hustled myself off to Huntsville, Alabama to experience what it was really like. Spinning around to the point of nausea on the multi-axis trainer was worth it because I could write about it with a bit of authority.

For Whistler’s Hollow, I drove eight hours so I could sit on a coal train. I took notes so I could write one paragraph about what it felt like. It must have worked because when that book came out, the publisher of Bloomsbury USA told me, “It felt like I was really on that train.”

I also slid into a shark tank for Danger in the Deep Blue Sea, book number four in my Mermaid Tales series with Simon and Schuster. But probably the craziest thing I have done for writing was to fall out of a plane! I wrote a story, that I’ve never sold, where a grandmother wanted to go sky-diving. So, I figured to be able to write about it I should experience it. Big mistake!! You can see me scream on my website, http://www.debbiedadey.com.

Some folks might think being a ‘doer’ is an unnecessary extra step and perhaps it is. Probably researching or watching videos will suffice in most instances. And I’m sure going to see a real live reindeer for Reindeers Don’t Wear Striped Underwear, getting a scooter of my own for Pirates Do Ride Scooters, and creating a mess making cookies for Slime Wars wasn’t totally necessary. But for me, it’s hard to pass up the chance to be a kid again. And if it can help me write better, then I’m all for it.

Currently, I am writing a story about a mermaid who is injured and can’t swim. I wanted to write it because I think kids deserve to see their mirror image on the covers of books. I don’t see many books with handicapped children on the front. I hope Mermaid Tales #14 will feature a mermaid on the cover in a ‘wheel-chair’ of sorts. So what do I need to do? I need to experience it. Anyone have a wheelchair handy?

David Harrison
April 14, 2015

Debbie, I loved reading about how you prepared to write your stories. Such adventures you’ve had in pursuit of the truth and the firsthand experiences that breathe real life and meaning into your work. 

Leaping from a plane! Swimming with sharks! Young people who read your descriptions are learning valuable lessons about what goes into writing before one word is put on paper.

So now it’s my turn. I, too, have gone to some lengths to prepare for my subject – flying to England, boating up the Amazon — but today I’m going to take a slightly different track. I’d like to talk about books that spring from the adventure itself. That is, instead of having a book idea and setting out to learn about the subject, sometimes a writer has an adventure and realizes that there’s a book to be written because of it.

Here’s my example. On the morning of September 11, 2001, when terrorists attacked America taking thousands of lives in New York City, Virginia, and Pennsylvania, a cave was discovered near Springfield, Missouri by a road construction crew. Not long afterward I was invited into the cave.

I’ve had a lifelong fascination with caves. I was carried into my first cave on my father’s shoulders at age four and explored one on my own as a boy of twelve. From that one I brought home a skull from an extinct form of black bear. I wrote a book about caves in 1970 (THE WORLD OF AMERICAN CAVES) and another in 2001 (CAVES, MYSTERIES BENEATH OUR FEET). After spending a day going through the newly discovered cavern, I posed in the welcome sunlight with my three companions. Smiling for the camera, covered from head to foot in sticky red clay, what was running through my mind wasn’t that I was filthy and needed a bath. I was thinking that I was going to write a book about this cave.

It didn’t take long to learn that no one involved with the discovery of the cave knew the whole story. Everyone had a piece of the puzzle but no one had the whole picture. I began interviewing people who had a role in discovering, saving, or exploring the cave: the road construction crew foreman, the guy who set off the dynamite blast that uncovered the cave, the geologist who led the exploration team, the paleontologist who discovered valuable ancient fossils inside, the engineer who rerouted the road to one side to save the cave, the cartographer who mapped the cave, the speleologist who repaired and cleaned damaged formations . . . . Eventually I put the story together.

Now I could almost imagine that quiet day when the blast tore a hole in the earth and ripped off part of the ceiling in the cave below. Almost. I had everything but the sound it must have made! What did that blast sound like? I called the guy who set off the blast and asked if he had any blasting to do, and he did. I met him at a quarry, walked along the limestone bluff where he was working, looked down into the holes that would soon be packed with explosives, and then, from a safe distance, I heard and recorded the sound of dynamite blasting rocks into powder and small chunks. It sounded like – ready? – a waterfall! Like water pouring over a cliff onto rocks below. Who knew? I did! Now.

So I had my story and the sound of discovery. Back into the cave where I spent hours walking, slipping, crouching, and crawling through red clay that sometimes came over shoe tops. Marveling over tracks left by peccaries thousands of years ago that were still moist. Sitting beside wallows scooped out by enormous short-faced bears that became extinct more than ten millennia ago. Gazing in awe at claw marks left by American lions, saber tooth cats, and the bears. Holding a fossil peccary’s foot bone that had been crunched off in an attack.

Then I wrote the 48-page book. Piece of cake.

Sandy Asher
April 21, 2015

Most of my research over the years has dealt with folklore or history and has involved the library, Internet, and vast store of knowledge preserved in my historian husband’s books and brain. Although the development of my play “I Will Sing Life: Voices from the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp” began with the book of the same name, it was in every other way an out-of-the-ordinary experience. And not just because I met Paul Newman.

It all began with a visit to a children’s theater in NYC, where the artistic director asked if I’d be interested in writing a play about children with cancer. Everything about that previous sentence is out-of-the-ordinary. I was living in Springfield, MO, at the time, did not get to NYC often, had never been to this theater, had not met this artistic director previously, and don’t receive these kinds of invitations often. Top that off with a visit to a NYC bookstore later that day and the discovery of the above mentioned book, propped up on a table as if intentionally placed there to attract my attention. Serendipity!

As you may know, The Hole in the Wall Gang Camp is a summer retreat founded by Paul Newman for children with life-threatening illnesses. For their book, I WILL SING LIFE: VOICES FROM THE HOLE IN THE WALL GANG CAMP, counselors Larry Berger and Dahlia Lithwick ran a summer-long creative writing program at the camp and also lived for a month with each of seven campers, observing their daily lives and interviewing each of them and family members. The book pulls together those observations and interviews, plus a wealth of poetry, stories, and plays written by the seven highlighted campers and others who participated in the creative writing program. It is so jam-packed with wisdom, humor, joy, and drama, I immediately wanted to share it with the world.

The artistic director, on the other hand, did not feel this was the basis for the play she needed. Too late, I was hooked. I had to write it. I’d find a theater to produce it later. (As it turned out, theaters were leery – a play about children with cancer? — until I produced it myself.) First step: I wrote to the camp office and received permission to adapt the book – and a warning that others had tried to make it stageworthy and failed.

I remained undaunted. Or maybe just driven. But no sooner did I start writing than I realized I needed to experience the camp for myself. I applied to be a volunteer for an 11-day session. A detailed written application, several references, and two long phone interviews later, I was accepted. Now, I was terrified. What did I imagine lay ahead for me that summer? A kind of sepia-toned movie ran in my head: gloomy, slow-motion images of desperately sick kids and their grim caretakers struggling to make the best of a tragic situation.

I could not have been more mistaken. Bright sunshine, brilliant colors, frenetic activity, funky music, endless chatter, and shrieks of laughter filled the Wild West-themed bunks and buildings and spilled out across the spacious green areas and deliciously heated pool. Sure, there were catheters, crutches, and wheelchairs here and there, and a few children who needed to be carried from activity to activity. But whatever each child needed, that is exactly what he or she got. And more. And every minute. The boundlessly loving staff never wavered or weakened in their dedication to giving those children a great camp experience. The overall mood was one of pure, unstoppable celebration. I took my place assisting the creative writing teacher and helping out with a bunk of pre-teen/early teen girls and received far more than I gave. I learned what it meant to “sing life.”

I wished that experience for everyone, so that’s what I tried to put into the script. I’m happy to say that it’s been produced and published and that a percentage of the royalties are returned to the camp – small payments on the huge debt I owe those counselors and children for their lessons on appreciating the gift of each and every day.

Oh, and I did meet Paul Newman, a small, quiet man in his early 70s riding a no-speed bike to and from his home on the premises, eating meals with the children, watching them rehearse a play, and mostly being ignored. I introduced myself as a volunteer and thanked him for the opportunity to participate in such an amazing program. “It is nice, isn’t it?” he replied, softly.


April 28, 2015


For Nellie the Brave, an historical about the Cherokee Trail of Tears, I went to Tahlequah, OK, to the Cherokee Nation headquarters and saw objects that were brought to OK on one of the wagon trains from the Indian removal. I also took the tour of the grounds to learn more about Cherokee culture.
For First Cousins (out later this year from Schoolwide) I went to Washington D.C. and toured the White House and other historical sites.

Because I write for adults, I’ve researched occupations I’ve given my heroines. When I wrote about a newscaster, I spent two days at at TV station, interviewing folks with different jobs and going into the studio, the engineer’s booth with at least 30 screens, even crawling into the remote van. When I wrote about a professional baseball player, I toured a ball stadium, even going into the locker room. When I couldn’t go to a place, I interviewed people with the jobs of my main characters.

The book I’m just now planning for this MFA thesis will be set during the Vietnam era and in Vietnam. I’ll have to trust Jimmie’s memory for some scenes, but I’ll research the historical time instead of trusting to my memory about what was going on here in the States, and I’ll interview other Vietnam vets, too, and read tons of books about that war.

That Sunday Afternoon


Since for many (most) authors a trip to Hawaii or Egypt would be at least as much and probably more than they will get–IF they get–any advance on the book, and might be more time than they can reasonably take away from family duties, we have to consider other imaginative ways to get into the blood and bones of a book.

I haunt old bookstores where I found a travel book on Edinburgh datelined 1929 which slots nicely into a 1930s graphic novel set in that very place.

I joined a friend who was doing a paid-for article for Yankee Magazine as she went around the Shaker Village in New York State just as I was writing a novel about Shakers.

I had an Indian colleague of my husband’s read a manuscript set in India in the 1920s.

A friend just back from a trip to Poland brought me photos and travel brochures, post cards and snapshots from there because I was writing a novel partially set there. And I used her interesting take on the Polish airport that I got from her when I took her out for lunch.

Stone Angel


I just thought I’d share a short example of diligence in creating authenticity…

A year and a half ago, I had an idea for a counting, rhyming picture book – but no way to write it. That’s because the concept involved 12 different languages – only one of which I knew fluently (English) and one I knew partially (French). But these needed to be diverse languages from all corners of the Earth, from English to Chinese to Navajo. So what’s a guy to do??

First, I searched online for educational material on speaking each language. Then I needed to search that language’s use of numbers – specifically, natural numerals (1, 2, 3…) and not ordinal numerals (first, second, third…). I needed to figure out what the numbers looked like AND what they sounded like (in order to provide phonetic pronunciations). Interestingly, many numbers of the same language are written differently and even spoken differently, depending on dialects and accents – so what I thought was going to be moderate amount of research turned into a major, MAJOR effort, watching videos of natural citizens speaking their native tongues, watching them draw the characters, and comparing and contrasting the differences and similarities.

I finally got it done and am quite proud of it – of course, I’ll be prouder if it gets picked up! – but the research was mind-boggling. It probably took me 10 times as long to research it as it did to actually write it.



I am the author of one book so far: I LAY MY STITCHES DOWN: POEMS OF AMERICAN SLAVERY. It came out to starred reviews in 2012 and is illustrated by Michele Wood.

Each poem is named for a traditional quilt block pattern and each references/recalls slavery in one way or another.

For example, “Log Cabin” is a poem depicting what archeologists have found excavating the slave quarters near a plantation. To research that idea, I went to Mount Vernon, Virginia and took notes as the historians gave us a tour of the actual dig that archeologists were working on.

For the poem “Anvil” I went to several blacksmith demonstrations at arts and crafts festivals in Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Annapolis and talked to them about their work.

I listened to the WPA interviews with former slaves and their children and grandchildren, not just for the information, but for cadence, their rhythms of speech in order to get the sound right in my poems.

I also researched the history of the quilt blocks themselves and spoke with quilt historians and museum curators about their quilt collections, the variance in quilt designs and names. And finally, I made by hand, a queen-sized quilt including all of the quilt blocks I wrote about in order to get a sense of each block, of hand-piecing, and working with a limited color palette.


My husband Tom and I made two trips to China during the years I was researching my book, SHANGHAI SHADOWS, which is about the resettlement of eastern European refugees during the Hitler years. In the Old City of Shanghai there is a small park sandwiched between two crumbling buildings that had been part of the ghetto where 20,000 Jews lived from 1939 to 1945. They weren’t mistreated, or worse, as they would have been had they not escaped from Europe. But they were confined in the Hongkou Ghetto to starve along with everyone else during the Japanese occupation of Shanghai. We walked into this little park peopled by Chinese retirees taking their graceful morning exercise. Suddenly everyone stopped and watched us conspicuous westerners wend our way to the back clump of trees in front of which stands a monument inscribed in three languages — English, Chinese, and Hebrew — dedicated to the “Stateless Jews of Europe.” Tom and I trembled as we read the monument in the two language we could, running our fingers over the other words as if they were in Braille. We were profoundly moved by the fact that 20,000 people, who might well have been our own ancestors, survived the war and gave breath to all their descendants, because of the generosity of the Chinese people. Tom and I held one another as tears slid down our cheeks. And finally, we turned to go, and were stunned to see that all the people in the park had formed a semi-circle behind us in silent sympathy. They’d probably never noticed the monument before and maybe had never even seen westerners, but they were clearly curious about our reaction to this odd piece of granite, and we felt cradled by them 65 years after the ghetto had emptied. None of my research moments has equalled this experience. Thanks for letting me share it.

Steal Away Home


As a writer of many nonfiction books, I too have gone to great lengths to conduct research, from studying 100-year-old journals and letters from the northern gold rushes to holding in my hand Susan B. Anthony’s actual 1896 letter to California suffragist Mary McHenry Keith. I never fail to get the shivers reading the words of real people. In the past few years I have been doing research about current events in my own lifetime and my favorite is to interview these participants by phone or even better, in person. So my most memorable research experience was my November 2014 interview with my hero Rep. John Lewis. Long before he served in Congress he was one of the early civil rights’ activists, a Freedom Rider, the youngest speaker at the March on Washington, a leader of the voting rights march in Selma when he was beaten senseless on Pettus Bridge. The last remaining civil rights activist in Congress he’s been interview often during these anniversaries and recent events in Ferguson and New York City. So I knew his face and voice well. But nothing prepared me for his generosity, his kindness, his belief that America can move forward toward a better country for all of us. I will never forget those 60 minutes with John Lewis, a highlight of my writing life.

My Country Tis of Thee: How One Song Reveals the History of Civil Rights

April 29, 2015


Deep Research

Like many writers, I’ve had the good fortune of exploring the world by researching my books. 

Writing has allowed me to hike through Costa Rican cloud forests, scuba dive on Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, watch a tallgrass prairie burn, and airboat through the Everglades. However, the experience that left the, ahem, deepest impression on me was the opportunity to dive to the deep sea floor.

Back in 2001, just after 9-11, I was invited to accompany Dr. Edith Widder on a cruise to the Bahama Islands. By then, Dr. Widder had already earned an international reputation for her work on bioluminescent organisms—animals that can make their own light. At the last minute, she had received a few extra days of time using the four-person submersible Johnson Sea Link. Remarkably, she invited me to come along.

For four days, the submersible carried Dr. Widder, me, and other writers, scientists, and students to the bottom of a deep-sea trench 3,000 feet deep. For me, it was better than going to the moon. Why? Even though the deep sea—like space—is cold and dark, it is full of life. At the bottom and in the water column above, we passed hundreds of strange creatures: ctenophores, viperfish, siphonophores, giant salps, angler fishes, and many more. Not only did these dives astonish me, they changed how I felt about the world.

Sitting in total darkness on the sea floor, I realized, “This is what most of the world is like—not the sun-drenched, landscape we humans are lucky enough to live in.” It made me appreciate that much more how fortunate we are to live on Earth and enjoy what really is an almost perfect world.

The dives also highlighted how much we take this world for granted. In addition to the problems we humans have created such as global warming, toxic pollution, and more, I saw that we have used the ocean as one giant garbage dump. Looking out the porthole of the submersible, I saw beer cans, plastic bags, and other trash every few feet. I’d known that humans dumped garbage into the sea, but my submersible dives showed me the vast extent of the problem.

My experiences aboard the Johnson Sea Link resulted in my book In the Deep Sea (Marshall Cavendish, 2005). That book is long out of print, but its effects on me have been permanent. I returned from these dives a changed person, not only with a new appreciation for life, but a new dedication to encourage people to take better care of this amazing gift we all share.

Fire Birds—Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests


Ideas for novels or stories come with a ray of sunshine and gleam of possibility. The inspiration for my upcoming novel about the early days of the Hollywood silent movie industry came from a statue outside the entrance to Universal Studios: a circa 1930s sound stage with actors and technicians. 

What would it be like, I wondered, to be present at the beginning, soon after the industry had moved from the east coast to the west and filmmaking was still something you cold get into just by showing up?

The inspiration stage is fun. But sooner or later, when constructing a plot, an author comes up against the cold hard facts—or rather, lack of cold hard facts. A bunch of kids making a movie would need some technical know-how and equipment—chiefly, a camera. And more specifically, a camera that two teenage boys of not-especially-prepossessing size could haul all over Los Angeles County without attracting much notice. Books couldn’t give me that information; I needed to talk to somebody. Aftrer stabbing around in the dark (my research methods are not what you’d call professional) I decided to see if I could get in touch with someone at the Smithsonian. Further online research got me the name of Shannon Perich, a curator specializing in photography in the Division of Culture and the Arts at the National Museum of American History.

The Smithsonian is called “the nation’s attic,” and if the nation is looking for a particular object in connection with a particular project, it is welcome to come in and rummage around. Ms. Perich connected me with John Hiller, then retired, whose long career had included studio work in the film industry as well as cataloguing for the Smithsonian. On a lovely day in July, I met Shannon Perich and Mr. Hiller at the entrance to the American History Museum in D. C. and we drove together out to one of the many Smithsonian storage facilities in Maryland. The reader will be gratified to know, as I was, that the entire Smithsonian collection (at least ten times the amount that is on display) is painstakingly catalogued and carefully stored for maximum preservation. It’s possible to find the location of every single item—unlike your backyard storage shed—at any given time. We signed in at the door and went downstairs and walked by stacks and stacks of storage cabinets until we came to the particular aisle, stack, and shelf where the item was supposed to be. There I found the Prestwich Model 14 in its cherry-wood case, a motion-picture camera light and compact enough to carry to the battlefield (World War I forms part of the background for my novel), as well as to a dozen “on location” filming sites. I touched it, took pictures, explored its iron innards.

Even without the camera, talking to John Hiller was worth a trip: he was a wellspring of the sort of little-known facts and telling details historical fiction writers absolutely adore. At least three of these found their way into the novel. I complain as loudly as anybody about some of the uses my tax dollars are put to, but I can’t help but have warm feelings about the Smithsonian. Shannon and John didn’t just share information, but set aside valuable time to take me out to the storage facility and show me the actual item I was looking for—and I didn’t even have a book contract at the time! Many thanks for the kindness of these two strangers.

Somebody on This Bus Is Going to Be Famous


I write non-fiction; so far 25 books, and over 100 magazine articles. My subjects are mostly historical, biographical, or travel-oriented. I’ve delved into archives and trekked through three continents doing research, but my best fact-finding has come through live interviews.

The interview process was key when I wrote The World of the Trapp Family. Later I re-told the same story for children in V is for Von Trapp, “the Cliff’s Notes version,” a reviewer wrote.

As a 1960s kid, I saw The Sound of Music. On family vacations we visited the Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe, Vermont many times. There, Von Trapp reality collided with the Hollywood version.

The current media blitz marking the 50th anniversary of The Sound of Music reminds me that the Von Trapps’ flight from the Nazis is called “one of the best known escape stories ever.” Maria, Captain Von Trapp’s third child, told me the authentic story of her family’s departure from Austria.

Maria said the Von Trapps’ butler, a closet Nazi, tipped off her father that the family was in danger. They had said no to the Nazis too many times. Refusing to sing for Hitler’s birthday, it was imperative that they leave before the borders closed. So they packed up, all eleven of them, as if they were going on a hiking trip. They simply took a train to Italy’s northern Alps, and didn’t return.

Contrary to the movie, no Nazis were in pursuit, no nuns disabled German vehicles, and there was no climbing of ev’ry mountain into Switzerland. “Geographically impossible!” Maria laughed.

The Von Trapps made it to New York, with work visas for a USA concert tour. Theirs was a classic immigrant story. They continued concertizing for twenty years.

Yes, I spent weeks pouring over the Von Trapps’ personal archives. I traveled to Austria for more research. But the interviews with members of the family are what enriched my writing. Woven into my texts are the actual voices of the Von Trapps. I discovered a quiet heroism about each of them. I hope I conveyed this in the books I wrote.

Laura Ingalls Wilder: A Biography


The first books that I wrote and illustrated, The Windchild and The Queen With Bees in her Hair, were purely fiction, just my imagination’s authentic children. But then I wrote one about the Pilgrims, those poor seafaring pioneers who had to make themselves at home in the New World wilderness. Sure, I pored over photos of the 1957 replica, the Mayflower II, and costumed reenactors at Plimoth Plantation, http://www.plimoth.org but I thought, if I was going to nail these illustrations, I’d better GO THERE. And I did. It turned out to be the first of many gallivants.

Besides all of the libraries and museums, I went to the former homes – all the places I visited are ‘former homes’ as all my subjects have been dead for years – of John & Abigail Adams, their firstborn, JQA; Abraham Lincoln, Washington Irving, George Washington, and Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello. I’ve walked about in the White House, wishing I could go upstairs, but that museum’s personnel carry FIREARMS. I did stand in Susan B. Anthony’s upstairs office & peered in at her bathtub. I walked about in the little house in Seneca Falls, where Susan’s buddy, Mrs. Stanton once lived. I marveled, horrified at Teddy Roosevelt’s glassy-eyed hunting trophies at Sagamore Hill. For all TR’s love of the natural world, he sure as hell blasted a LOT of creatures clean out of it!

My dad and I drove along the old Erie Canal. Never would I have thought, back during the Reagan Administration, when I was trying to break into books, that the profession would turn me into a time travel tourist, but so it did.

Flags Over America