There's a Turtle on My Title!

This week I received my author copies of Vietnam's edition of The Running Dream. I love my foreign editions. They're fascinating. I may spend more time marveling over them than I do the original book when it's finally something I can hold in my hands. By then, I've been over the manuscript dozens of times and figure there can be no surprises. 

That's not always the case. 

Sometimes the surprise is good - as in Sammy Keyes and the Kiss Goodbye, where there was the absolutely wonderful surprise of the fancy endpages. 

And sometimes the surprise is not good - as also in Sammy Keyes and the Kiss Goodbye where the dedication page was (and is still) missing. 

Usually, though, it's a matter of receiving the book, admiring it for a a little bit with the feeling of immense gratitude that it's finally, finally a real book, and then getting back to work.

The foreign editions are different, because everything about them is new and fascinating and mysterious. And the idea that I'm holding a book that I wrote but can't read gets me every time!

Sometimes the editions arrive and the art is a complete surprise. For example, when I received copies of the French translations of Sammy Keyes, I was shocked to see that Sammy's name had been changed to Sara Kay. 

Who the heck was Sara Kay?

And why make her look like an angry Nancy Drew?

My agent assured me that the foreign publishers understand their marketplace better than we possibly could and to trust them. I have learned to do that. The Sammy Keyes books have done well in France, so maybe a girl with (what seems to be) a boy's name wouldn't fly in their market. 

Sometimes the foreign publisher gets cover approval from the author prior to publication, which was the case with this Vietnamese version of The Running Dream. And I did do a double-take about the art. With the framing trees and the starry feel, it seemed to be art more representative of Flipped.

So I asked my agent about it, and she relayed my query to the publisher in Vietnam, who replied with this explanation: Our keyword is "dream". We show a healthy girl sleeping peacefully, as if after a fierce struggle. It's like a dream within a dream of Jessica.

They also said they felt the artwork would do well in their market, so I'm trusting that it will.

Some other interesting details about the Vietnamese edition: The title, “Đường đua của những giấc mơ,” translates to something like “Race Track of Dreams,” and the book comes with a nifty star-shaped bookmark. Each chapter is labeled "Chuong" which translates to (big surprise) "Chapter," but it's the section headings that I haven't been able to figure out. I think this is because the "a" used in "PHAN" has a special symbol over it. Or a combination of marks. 

The translations I've come up with are "Chalk" or "Phase." I'm pretty sure neither is correct because in analyzing the language, there are a variety of special symbols (and combinations of them) put on letters that change the meaning. The one (or combination) over this "a" looks like a turtle going to the left. There's also a turtle heading to the right on "ket" below "PHAN." (I'm sure these 'turtles' have nothing to do with slow and steady winning the race, although I'm applying my own symbolism anyway!)

So, see? It's fascinating. And that I can't read a word of it makes it even more so. 

If you have any knowledge of the Vietnamese language, please share with us in the comments. And if you know anyone who'd be interested in the Vietnamese translation, here's a link.

Thanks for checking in. Here's to happy surprises landing in your mailbox. Looking forward to chatting with you in the comments!

The Secret In The Teapot

Let me start this week's post with an official and enormous Thank You! for all the comments made at last week's post. Wow! I appreciate all the time and energy that went into your suggestions. I have just printed everything out so I can sort through your input in a somewhat sane manner and check who you see as who. This will be very interesting!

 BTW, I can't believe I didn't list Officer Borsch. But thank you for picking up on that and adding him.

I should make very clear (and allay the fears of some) that this is all just talk at this point. Nothing is signed. We're just exploring. You know--to see if we have similar vision before moving forward.

So there will be feedback from me later - after I've dissected and digested all your comments. Meanwhile, two comments from last week had to do with "The Schneider" -- The Schneider Family Book Award -- so I want to explain that a little and tell you about my new teapot.

Yes, my new teapot.

First, let me tell you that winning the Schneider is actually a big deal to me, but it's one of those things I have trouble sharing. I just don't ever want to come across as being too big for my britches. And I'm sensitive to the fact that there are plenty of authors out there who held their breath all night last Sunday hoping to get a call from one of the American Library Association committees telling them that their book (which they put their heart and soul and a good year, or two or three or more into writing) had been selected as award-worthy.

So I was one of the lucky few who got a call, but I didn't shout this from the mountain tops or anything. Actually, I told, like, three people. But somehow I'm comfortable telling you guys.

Which says a lot about you guys, and I just want to say thanks for making me feel that way.

Anyway, here we go--what the heck's the Schneider?

Let's back up and say that if last Monday was the "Oscars of Children's Literature" (as some people call it), the Newbery would be "Best Picture", the Caldecott would be...what? "Best Animated Film"? The Printz would be, say, "Best Actor" and the Coretta Scott King award would be "Best Actress" (or whatever attributions you want to ascribe in whatever politically correct terms people now use for female lead.). The Oscars have lots more awards, but there are only a handful that get big attention.

Same in kid lit. There are 18 award categories total, and although people's attention and interest wanes after the Big Four, winning any of them is huge to the recipient. and for me, winning the Schneider Family Book Award which "honors an author or illustrator for a book that embodies an artistic expression of the disability experience," had me crying happy tears.

It's just nice to have the result of your hard work and passion acknowledged.

So in all future issues of The Running Dream, there will be a blue award seal, and the super cool thing about the SFBA seal is that it is also in Braille.

Awesome, huh?

Which brings me to the teapot.

I like to buy something to remind me of life's happy milestones or accomplishments. I know I'll get a plaque to commemorate winning the Schneider, but I'm not a plaque hanger. I keep them in a bookshelf. Or behind the door. Or under the couch. And every great once-in-a-while, I'll come upon one and go, oh, yeah! Then back it goes. Into the bookshelf. Or behind the door. Or under the couch.

And I'm not going to enlarge, say, my book jacket with the SFBA seal, mat it with three layers and frame it and hang that.

Please.

But I do think it is good to remind yourself of the happy moments and savor them. So this week when I happened upon this teapot in a shop window, I knew it would be the perfect thing to commemorate the event . Blue, circular, with raised symbols, it looks enough like the SFBA seal to remind me as I pour my afternoon tea, but looks only like a (wow, where'd you get that really cool) teapot to anyone else.

It's symbolic.

A secret.

No one will know.

Except, that is, me and you.