A Little Ridiculous Philosophical Mumbo-Jumbo

Last you heard from me about Killer Cruise was that I was in the yabba-dabba-doo phase of it all coming together. 

Or, you know, the yippity-doo-dah phase.

And I was and it did.  And then I got to the end of the story and something completely unexpected happened.

I bawled my eyes out.

Big gasping gulps and sobs and waterworks galore. The kids thought something tragic had happened. Mark just held on and let me soak his shirt.

Don't get me wrong. The book has a happy ending. But it's the last book in Sammy's voice.(Kiss Goodbye, the final book in the series, won't be.)

I hadn’t actually realized that before typing the final sentence. Or maybe it just hadn't hit me. But as the final sentence came out my fingertips the waterworks started and then I just couldn’t stop crying.

Well, I did. Eventually. You know.

But it was just so overwhelming and unexpected and the opposite of how I usually feel when I type the last line of a book. I was anticipating being a basket case for Kiss Goodbye, but this...well, I just didn't see it coming.

Sammy has been in my life even longer than my second son, who is 18 and just started college. It's strange to spend so much time with a character--so many years with a character--because they become real to you. And I know there is a time for everything--a time for my boys to go off to college and start adventures of their own--and a time for a series to come to a close. But them happening at the same time is pretty dang hard on "the mom"! 

And it causes some strange ideas to form.  

For instance, old people often say, "All I have left is my memories," meaning the people who created those memories are gone but the memories themselves are still there. There were real, physical entities in this world creating those memories but their absence doesn't detract from the memories created, so the question is, are those memories more valid or 'real' than those created by fictional characters? Are the memories created by the imagined less real than the ones created by people who are now also not physical beings? People you can only now imagine.

I know this is ridiculous philosophical mumbo jumbo, and honestly, I don't believe that a character can equate to a flesh-and-blood person. But these are the kinds of thoughts that play around with my mind.

And man, did I cry.

Are Some Of Your Best Friends Fictional?

Nancy sent me one more guest post and I think it rounds out her entries nicely so, although I said I'd be back this week, it makes sense to keep her posts together. The questions left in the comment section at previous posts will be addressed later, although I can tell you that she can't answer your questions about Hudson or the Nighty Napper or characters' back stories, etc. I keep her in the dark about as much as I can because I only get one chance to have her read a manuscript for the first time, and that first read is very important to me--both for her reaction to the mystery (when did you know whodunit?) and the emotional impact of relationship development. Anyway, enjoy this last (for now) post from Nancy!

***

When I tell people that I edit children’s books, they frequently ask, So what qualifies you for that?

Probably they’re curious because it sounds like a great job, and they want to do it too.  But the question always makes me squirm a little because I don’t have a good answer.  What qualifies me?  Nothing in particular.  But also, everything I am.

I think it’s more revealing to talk about what qualities most editors possess, instead of what qualifications.  (Maybe because I don’t have any specific qualifications, but we won’t dwell!)

Some things to consider:

Do you love to read?  I mean, love to read kind of like you love to breathe?  Do you carry around not only the book you are currently reading but a second one as well, just in case?

Are some of your best friends fictional? Consider this:  I’m in Venice with my mom and sister, exploring an old cathedral, and my mom says, “This is Guido’s mother’s favorite church.” And I say, “Really? How come?” And she points out the paintings and the architecture that make this place special.  My sister asks us who Guido is, and rolls her eyes when we tell her we’re talking about Guido Brunetti, a Venetian detective in books by Donna Leon. 

Another example:  Wendelin is touring near where I grew up, and so I bring her home to meet my parents.  We’re all chatting around the dining room table and my mom turns to Wendelin and asks, “So how is Hudson?  I haven’t heard about him lately.”  Wendelin laughs, looks at me, and says, “Now I understand where you came from.” (Perhaps what this really means is that I have a great book-loving mom.  True enough.  But I think it’s more—I think it’s that characters truly live for us.)

Do you love words? Do you like slang and lingo and jargon and colloquialisms?  Have you ever stopped and sighed over a particularly elegant phrase?  Are you always searching for the exact right way to express something?  Does it make you inordinately happy to find it?

Do you have a fix-it gene? Are you constantly critiquing things?  Do you read a book or see a movie and think, Yeah, that was good, but it would have been even better if only they’d changed this.  Or, There is no way that character would have done that.  Do you imagine how the whole thing could have played out differently?

Would you rather be pointing the spotlight than in it? An editor’s job is to help.  Help writers express their ideas in the best way possible.  Or to help them clarify what it is they are trying to say.

For me, I’ve never wanted to be the lead in the play or the rock star.  Even in my dreams, I’m a back-up singer.  You know, shimmying in a cute fringed dress, adding the perfect harmony, helping keep the beat.  (Now that I consider it, I think I got this idea from a book—Laurie Colwin’s Goodbye Without Leaving.  Typical.)

Did you answer yes to most or all of these questions?  If so, you might just make a great editor!

A Day In The Life Of An Editor

Before I turn you loose on Nancy's post #3, I'm happy to report that Sammy Keyes and the Killer Cruise is off my desk and on Nancy's. So although she's said she'll answer questions from last week and you'll see her here again from time to time, I'm planning to be back to do the full post next week (while she gets notes together about my book and sends it back to me for Round 2).

And also, first a little explanation about the picture.

I've told Nancy many times over the years that she looks like Snow White. It just strikes me when I see her and then it pops out of my mouth. Call me Dopey, but I just can't help it.

Well, on the wall of the movie theater where she and I attended a Flipped movie premiere, there was a mural of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.  So of course I got all excited and made her pose like Snow White in front of Snow White. And since it was a Flipped premiere there were little fuzzy chicks everywhere, which is how we managed to get a little bird in the picture, too. So now I have proof. Am I right, or what?

Anyway! Here's Nancy....

* * *

Hello! 

Wendelin thought her readers might be interested in a day-in-the-life of an editor.  But really, each day is different—with the exception that I hardly ever accomplish what I intended to do that morning.  Things just tend to come up.  Which is why I try to work from home one day a week.  I think what will surprise most people is what doesn’t happen from nine to five (well, ten to seven-thirty).

What I do at my desk / in the office:

• Email. Reading it—questions from authors and agents; updates from marketing, publicity and sales; book reviews; industry newsletters; notices of reprints, first prints, out of prints; the google alerts I’ve put on my authors; requests for meetings; submissions.  Writing it—answering questions from authors and agents; passing on the good and bad news from all that’s come in; requesting more info from pretty much everyone, and then disseminating the answers; passing myriad big and small requests to the assistant editor who helps me (blessings upon her).

• Write long letters to authors extolling the virtues of their book and pointing out any weaknesses, holes, confusions.  Try to give a road map for how to make the book even stronger.

• Write the copy for book jackets, catalogs, sales reps’ tip sheets, on-line book descriptions.

• Prep manuscripts so they are in the proper format for copy editors and designers to deal with.  (The system for doing this seems to change yearly, requiring training on new systems, and a good deal of cursing.)

• Review books in progress as they are set into type, proofread, corrected, and proofread again—as many times as it takes to get it right.

• Eat lunch (occasionally dinner).

• Meet with designers to talk about the illustrations for picture books and the possibilities for jacket art for novels.

• Prepare presentations of my books for meetings with sales and marketing and publicity; slightly different presentations for meeting with librarians or teachers.  Always, always, always trying to explain the particular strengths and wondrousness of each book.

• Go to meetings—prepare for meetings, follow up after meetings…

• Talk on the phone with agents and authors and colleagues (and, okay, my mother).

• Prepare a case for new books I’d like to take on—a written estimation of why the book is great, who will love it, who will buy it, how we’ll pitch it in-house and out-of-house, long term plan for the author, how much revision the book requires, and create a p&l (profit & loss statement) with some supportable guess of how many we’ll print, how many we’ll sell, what the costs to the company will be and what the potential profit might be.

• Negotiate the terms for new contracts with agents.

• Meet with authors, agents, and foreign publishers.

• Talk with other editors about the difficulties that come up; ask and offer advice about how to handle things; generally kvetch about the things out of our control; offer congratulations or commiseration as needed.

What I rarely, if ever, do in the office:

• Read.

• Edit.

The Best and The Worst of Being An Editor

Post #2 from Nancy! I hope you enjoy the inside peek into what being an editor means, and also what it takes to be one. I'm thinking I may be able to twist her arm for answers if you have questions you're dying to ask. (No, you can't ask her who Sammy's dad is.) (And yes, she does know.) So put your questions in the comments and I'll see what I can do. Anyway, here's Nancy!

*

That sounds like fun…

This is what most people say when I tell them I’m an editor of children’s books.  And I usually reply, Sometimes.  But what I’m thinking is, You clearly have no idea what I do…

And how would they?  It’s such a behind-the-scenes job.  I suspect they think I sit around and read all day.  (Sadly, no.)  Or that I wield a red pencil and correct spelling and grammar.  (Happily, no.)

It’s my job to find books for my company to publish.  I work with authors and illustrators to revise and shape a book until it’s the best it can possibly be.  And then I’m the book’s main advocate in-house—explaining to the sales and marketing teams why I think it’s a spectacular book that will be perfect for a particular audience.  There’s more, but that’s the heart of it—finder, fixer, cheerleader.

It might also be part of my job to think that the word fun isn’t all that descriptive.  Sometimes being an editor is thrilling. More often: satisfying. And frequently: crushing.

Everyone approaches the job differently, but here are the highs and lows for me:

The best.

• I love the moment of discovery.  The moment when I’m reading a new manuscript and think, yes.  Yes, this is wonderful.  Yes, we can publish this well.  Yes, people are going to love this.  I feel like I’ve got a delicious secret—no one else knows yet how spectacular this book is.  But they will.  Oh, they will!  And I get to tell them.

• Whenever anyone—any one—says they love the book too.

• The company I keep.  I get to work with creative, passionate, dedicated people.  Both the authors and illustrators and my colleagues in the office.  Everyone cares about books.  Everyone’s trying to bring something good into the world.

The worst.

• When I’m the only one who loves a book.  Sometimes I’m a fan base of one.  Which is frustrating in the particular and also makes me doubt myself in general.

• And worse than that—when no one seems to care.  I can work for years on a book and be really excited about it, and the book comes out and the reaction is…meh.  Indifference can feel worse than outright dislike.

• I am never done.  I will never be caught up.  There is always something more I could do, should do, would like to do to spread the word about a book.  Always someone I should have called to check in on.  Always some chapter or scene that might have been better had I studied it a sixth time, or seventh, or eighth, and suggested a small change.

• My reading time is not my own.  I should be reading submissions or the competition or the other books on our list.  Reading for pleasure has become a guilty pleasure.

• It is really hard to know if I am doing a good job.  There’s no completely objective way to measure your success.  Sometimes books do well with very little input from me.  And sometimes I knock myself out for a book and it still doesn’t work.  Here’s the rub—when a book sells well or gets stellar reviews, it feels only right and just.  Of course it’s doing well—it’s a great book and the author created something wonderful.  When a book fails, it feels like my fault.  Some books haunt me.  Did I pick a not-so-good one?  What could I have done differently?  What might I still do to turn things around?

What satisfies:

• Figuring it out.  Sometimes I’ll be editing a book and know that something feels off or doesn’t ring true.  And pinpointing exactly what’s making me feel that way, and then seeing a way to fix it, is incredibly satisfying.  Like solving a puzzle.

• Even better than that is explaining to a writer or an artist that something feels not-quite-right, offering a potential solution, and having them come back with an even better solution.  Then I get to feel both helpful and inspiring.

• Saying it well.  There are millions of small reasons I love a book, and it’s hard to distill that love into a few sentences that will explain to someone who hasn’t read it yet why it’s special.  Hitting upon the right way to talk about a book so that others get excited too is important.

• Finding the right words.  Creating jacket copy for a book is a challenge.  You have to explain enough of the plot to draw readers in, but not give away too much.  And you have to do that in a way that gives readers the feel of a book.  Is it funny or suspenseful or goofy or heartbreaking… 

I’m suddenly realizing that the same wisdom I hear from writers applies to editors too—you have to enjoy the process.  You can’t live for the results—for the sales or the reviews or the outcome.  That part is mostly out of your control.  What you can control is the doing.  And if you enjoy being in the middle of a big, complex, knotty puzzle, and finding a way to make it all come together, then yes—being a children’s book editor is thrilling and agonizing and satisfying and, on especially good days, fun.

Please Welcome My Editor!

I'm very excited to announce that for the next few weeks you will have the rare opportunity to read posts from someone I've been mentioning here at the blog for years--my one and only editor, Nancy. This week she shares how we met, and next week she'll supply a glimpse into what being an editor at a major publishing house actually entails. So without further ado...heeeeeeere's Nancy!

*

Hello!

Wendelin asked if I would make some guest appearances on her blog, talking about what an editor’s job is and how I go about it. 

So I thought I should start by telling the story of how we first “met.”  I say that in quotes because we didn’t meet in person for years after we started working together.  (I work with many authors and illustrators I’ve never met.)  No, I truly meet authors in the same place any reader does—on the page, in their stories, through their ideas.

I first met Wendelin in the pages of How I Survived Being a Girl.  I distinctly remember reading this on Amtrak, riding from New York to Boston.  I remember laughing at the daring exploits of Carolyn and her brothers as they spied on the neighbors and dug up someone’s yard. I remember my heart nearly bursting as Carolyn’s crush dangled a gift in front of her—and then put it back in his pocket. And I remember grumbling with frustration at the long and rambling sidetracks Carolyn went off on as she told her story.  I remember the manuscript being heavy. 

Now, Wendelin and I disagree on the length of this first manuscript.  I acknowledge that the balance of evidence is on her side (since she still has the original document).  But this is my post, and I remember the book being just ridiculously long!  Carolyn’s narration would be tripping along nicely and then she’d veer onto a side road and spend pages ranting about something, and then finally, finally come back to the main story.  Don’t get me wrong—a lot of these meanderings and musings were hysterical.  But the sidetracks kept interrupting the flow of the story—I’d find myself skimming and skipping ahead—yeah, yeah, but what happens next?

And so I wrote to Wendelin and said I liked her story but would she please cut it in half.  If she was willing to try, then I’d read it again. 

I may have been nicer about it than that, a smidge more encouraging, but not much.

I stand by the advice.  Cutting a story that severely forces a writer to choose.  To pick out the events and the details that are truly essential.  To decide which of the many plot threads are bedrock, and which can be chipped away without damaging the whole.  Once you know the true heart of the story, your can figure out which details amplify that meaning, and which ones distract from it.

Also, it’s important for me to know if a writer can revise.  (Not everyone can.)  And it’s good to know if a writer is willing to cast a critical eye on their own work and re-think, and re-imagine it.  Willing and able—a successful writer needs to be both.

So—decent advice, iffy delivery.

I believe it’s Wendelin’s husband, Mark, I have to thank for actually convincing her to revise the book and send it back to me.  Did he somehow sense that I really loved this story, meanders and all?  Did he just want to give Wendelin some encouragement to keep trying at this thing she loved?  Whatever the reason, I thank you, Mark, from the depths of my heart.

I have to say, this story makes me queasy.  It ends well.  Wendelin did revise the book.  She didn’t cut it quite in half, but she did tighten and focus the story brilliantly.  I loved it.  I published it.  It was the first novel I acquired on my own—a huge milestone for any young editor.  And Wendelin and I have now worked on thirty (and counting) books together.  We are an awesome team.  So when I think back on the terseness of my first letter to her—how glib I must have sounded—I feel a little ill.  She could have easily crumpled that letter and never responded.  And I would have missed out on the most rewarding editorial relationship of my career.  And on meeting one of my dearest friends.

It’s a fragile thing, this business.  Luck plays a big role.  And occasionally, rarely, if you are a truly lucky editor, then the stars align, and the kind husband intervenes, and you meet…Wendelin.

An Apology to GWAATP

There was a point in the series where I made Nancy promise me there'd be no more pink Sammy Keyes books. I think it was after Hollywood Mummy came out. (An early version was pink.)

The poor boys who read the series complained. Pink! No! You're killin' me! they said, and I agreed and discussed the gravity of the situation with Nancy and we agreed--no more pink books! Sammy and pink belong in opposite universes.

Like Sammy and that pink angora sweater!

And yet, 10 books later, here we are, looking at the very pink artwork for the paperback version of Sammy Keyes and the Showdown in Sin City. 

I might have protested more than I did (it was really just the raising of a little white flag) if I didn't like the cover so much. And pink seems so appropriately Vegas. Plus, all the menfolk in my family seem to think the artwork is awesome .

So, sorry Guys Who Are Allergic To Pink--I guess you'll have to read the hardcover.

The paperback artist is Karl Edwards, in case you've forgotten / didn't know, and I like the way he works. He's very generous with preliminary sketches, giving the art team at Random House lots of options, and he seems to have a lot of patience with all of us. I like him. Here's an example of some of the Elvi he submitted in the early stages. Varied, and very funny!

And now, switching from art to text, I'm so happy to report that I've reached the "payoff" phase of Sammy Keyes and the Killer Cruise. Yippiddiy-dappidy-dooo-ooo-oooh! It's all coming to a head, and watch out, world, here she blows!

I was hoping to keep it to 250 or 275 pages, but no, we'll be at 300 before we're back in port. I should be able to tell you next week if I keep up this full speed ahead.

Meanwhile, I'll see you in the comments. I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek at the art--thanks for checking in!

A Detour Through London

So all day yesterday I avoided the spoilers surrounding Oscar Pistorius's semi-final run. I didn't expect him to make it to the finals, but I wanted to see the race for myself without already knowing how it ended.

And I didn't want to take all day waiting to watch a 45 second race!

So from the scheduled time for the race until 11 PM last night I kept checking in. I saw bits of women's volleyball (very cool), women's waterpolo (brutal), women's marathon (the winner was the one who fell at the water station!) equestrian competition (I have no idea what to look for), diving (I don't get why athletes choose a sport where years of training come down to the size of a splash), and the women's gymnastic vault competition (I would feel tremendously sorry for McKayla Maroney but her demeanor [concentration aside] and apparent sportsmanship is very off putting).

I couldn't spend the day watching horses jump or rain fall on runners. I have a book to finish. So I had the TV on in the next room (because Oscar's racing wasn't broadcasting when it was supposed to). and kept an ear out. At one point "carbon fiber" caught my ear and I raced next door in time to see one of NBC's little athlete spotlights about OP. And then nothing. For hours.

The race finally broadcast at 11 last night and for me the highlight wasn't the outcome, but the exchange of bibs. That, and knowing that Oscar's participation in the Olympics will inspire so many people.

Next week, back to books! I have pictures to share and Sammy Keyes updates. But this one's for Oscar. What a guy!

PS Besides Oscar, Missy Franklin and Gabby Douglas are a couple of my favorites. Let's hear yours!