Reading and Fear: Part One

Much has been written about Ellen Hopkins and her recent experience with censorship in the hands of a school superintendent in Texas. I will not rehash the event here, but I'm sad to see this happened. It made me think of why some people are afraid of books.

When I was a teen, another popular writer was under fire. Her name is Judy Blume. The school librarian even had a special parent meeting about how to handle Blume's books. She recommended parents read the books with their children and discuss the topics, but the one book we couldn't read (according to the librarian), the one book not in the library, was the book Forever.

This is what the book looked like when I read it.


Because the librarian made such a big deal about the book, Forever became very popular. We passed it on from reader to reader. For those of you who haven't read Forever, or it has been a few years, the story centers around two high school students who have an intimate relationship. Yes, they have sex. This might seem almost quaint by today's YA standards.

 Let me give you a picture of what I was like when read Forever. I think I was fourteen, but you wouldn't know it by looking at me or hanging out with me, for I was very physically and emotionally immature. The fourteen year old Michèle still played with her dollhouse and read The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, and all the Shoes books by Noel Streatfeild. The fourteen year old Michele wanted nothing to do with drama of social life or boyfriends at Malibu Park Jr. High. In fact, I made a case to leave school and educate myself. I told my parents I could write a novel, paint with watercolors, and get a tutor for tiresome subjects like math and science.

My parents didn't buy it.

I had to stay in school, but I did get to read Forever.

So why did the school librarian ban this particular book? Since I cannot ask her, I will guess: She was afraid we would read about sex and think it was cool to have sex and go out and have sex.

Why did I read Forever?  I was curious.

I don't even entirely remember all the details about the book, but I do know it upset me. I cried when I got to the end and realized Forever didn't mean forever. What did I get out of this experience? I decided relationships required an emotional investment I wasn't ready to deal with. Forever may have helped me wait until eighteen to date guys. Well, okay, mostly this was because I was a total nerd and most guys found me scary, but Judy Blume's book did make an impact on my life, just not in the way the school librarian feared.

At the 2009 SCBWI Conference, I attended a workshop by Ellen Hopkins. She shared some letters and pictures of teens who read her books and the ways her work has impacted their lives. I was so struck with the connection these readers felt. They had found someone who could write about things they knew or feared and a sense of community blossomed.


Books continue to be challenged. The core of censorship is fear.

Fear of knowledge.

Yet, books are a way we can gain understanding. Even if we ourselves don't personally know a particular world or desire to go there, we can learn about what it is like. The more we know, the better we understand the world around us. This happened when I read Forever. 

 Okay, so my message has to be read in a mirror, but I think you get it!

Off the High Dive and into the Deep End

I'm back home after a three week trip. I would love to say vacation, but my day job came with me. I did manage to squeeze some time out for fun and the wonderful SCBWI International Conference in LA where I gained new knowledge and feasted on inspiration.

I found a new favorite place, Point Lobos State Reserve near Carmel.

I renewed my wish to have a winter cottage in Marin or Monterey County where I can watch the ocean and write.
Someday . . .

My sons had a great time swimming in the same pool I played in when I was a child. The pool now has a very cool high dive.

Here's Holden:

I also received a thorough and insightful editorial letter on my YA novel from my most excellent agent. I read my manuscript, took notes, and had a lot of time to think while rumbling up the I-5 back home.
I'm so excited about the journey ahead.

Time to revise!

Time to take the leap into the water and surround myself in the other world of my story.

Fortunately, I've always loved the deep end. :)

Travel

I've been traveling since last Friday.

First, we stopped in lovely Dillon Beach.

 Where I played with my favorite guys.

Then, we drove to Malibu. I took a walk with Shane today and enjoyed the view.

On Friday, I look forward to seeing my SCBWI friends at the annual conference in LA.

I hope to see some of you there. :)

Writing Naked

Before Jamie Oliver became a food crusader, he had a show called The Naked Chef. And, no, it didn't feature Jaimie braising in the buff. Instead he would use a "glug" of olive oil while stir frying and mix things up with his hands in his cluttered kitchen in his London flat. In other words, it was real. This intimate relationship with food resonated with my own creative forces.

I live in a community where many people write memoirs. I applaud their efforts even if I'm not drawn to memoir writing myself. First of all, I wouldn't want to bore my readers to sleep; my life isn't that exciting. The real reason, however, is I'm not keen on digging up the old bones of my past for the world to see. All of those experiences are personal.

I think this is why I enjoy writing fiction. A made up story with pretend people provides the perfect diversion from the truth.

Well, I convince myself of this fantasy.

In truth, writing gets messy and complicated. Under the protection of the imaginary world, the real shows up--completely naked, and those things I never felt comfortable sharing show up (whether I want them to or not).

I've had writing sessions when I realized my hands are shaking with fear, even anger, or I wipe tears from my face. Since my mind is usually focused on the story (what will the character will do next?), I'm not expecting the emotion.

The authenticity both fascinates and frightens me. Often I have to go back and build on these scenes to make them even stronger, for I know at some point I backed off afraid of what I churned up from within.

Sharing my life--my fears, frustrations, and longings scare me, yet this is what makes the story and the characters come to life.

Time to take off my clothes and make it real!

Playlist

What are your feelings about music and the creative process?

I grew up loving the austere writing environment--a quiet room of my own. Obviously, this is more of a dream, and I find myself writing everywhere with all sorts of background noise.

When I was in college, I spent a year abroad in Florence, Italy. My apartment mates liked to get a bottle of wine and talk into the night. I would try to work on papers but found myself focusing on the conversation going on outside my room. So, and this will date me, I would put on my trusty Walkman and drown out my world with cassette tapes. I often wonder what the influence of U2, Tom Waits, and The Cure had on my essay assignments that year.

I don't often listen to music. I'm usually driving when I do, but I find certain songs inspire me to find certain scenes or remind me of characters. Specific songs evoke a feeling or set a mood for a scene.

I decided this past week to start working on a playlist--a collection of songs I use for inspiration for my novel. I'm still experimenting on whether I want to listen to the songs while I write, or I may use them as a way to get me in the right mood to start the creative process.

What do you do?

Expectations

Pizza with caramelized onions, goat cheese, and fresh thyme.

Beet tops sautéed with garlic scrapes.

Honey ice cream with tart rhubarb compote.

The veggies and herbs were from my garden and the farmer’s market. I used as many organic ingredients as I could find.

I’m not a rich woman with money or time, but I love good food and will pay extra and make the time to make a meal.

It’s easy to fall in love with real food, slow food, sustainable food . . . Whatever you want to call eating well.

I started to love cooking as a child. I focused on sweets—cookies of every imaginable combination, pies, cakes (anything involving frosting). When I became a vegetarian in my early twenties, I started cooking more and more of my own meals.

My passion continues.

This may sound lovely or possibly preachy, which is not my intent.

My cooking frenzy has a downside. I can’t go out anymore and eat fast food, and my concept of fast food expands. Though my arteries may thank me, my high expectations leave me disappointed and wanting more.

As good eating advocates deal with our unhealthy food industry, I applaud them with enthusiasm. I’m glad to see there’s finally a movement toward healthier eating.

I have high expectations with food. Is it too much to ask for real food to eat?

Of course not!

Naturally, these expectations spill over into everything else.

Writing, of course.

Yet, like food, good writing comes down to being honest and using the best words in the right combination to make the finished product simply delicious.

Yes, I know, easier said than done.

Time to cook!

Writing Evil

My current wip has a true antagonist. When this villain arrived in my story, I was thrilled. I've never had a real bad guy character before. I thought it was going to be fun. I planned and anticipated his dastardly acts and despicable deeds. He would make life impossible for my protagonists.

True confession time: Writing a believable bad guy is HARD.

What is evil? I would like to think that I am not a bad person, so am I capable of getting into the mindset of someone truly bad?

When I was a child, a horrible man lived in my neighborhood. He had a wife who died in a hot tub accident, and later, after he remarried, his new wife and stepson were killed in a boating accident. The second accident turned out not to be an accident (and perhaps the first as well). He killed his wife and stepson to collect insurance money.

I spent many hours thinking about how someone could be so horrible and detached to kill for money. No one had a clue. He was a very polite and gentle man. One day, in a time period between the two incidents, my dog bit him. I suspect she knew he was evil. The rest of us did not.

So, the challenge, how do I reveal evil below the surface? How can I make my villain truly scary?
I may not be a perfect person, but I don't understand evil.

I'm just glad my evil character is a creation, not a real man.