On Making Mistakes

Anyone who knows me well knows that I worked hard to make GILT  as historically accurate as I could.  I read books. I did as much online research of transcribed primary sources as I could.  I scouted locations.

But I will always feel I didn't do enough.  Because I know I made mistakes.

Let me backtrack.  I wouldn't knowingly leave obvious mistakes in my manuscript before it went to print.  Well, one.  But the evidence of it only came to my attention after the galleys were printed and I had to let it go.  However, I recently read something by Hilary Mantel (author of WOLF HALL, one of my favorite all-time novels, and probably my favorite Tudor novel ever) on historical accuracy.  She said (This is not a direct quote, just the gist of it) that she would invent the thoughts in a character's head, but not the color of his wallpaper.

Whoa.

I don't know the color of my character's wallpaper.  I also don't like to make mistakes, so this freaked me out a little.  In the meantime, I've been doing more reading in order to add detail to Book 2 (still haven't found any wallpaper references, though.) and have discovered little details that I got wrong.  Not things that are glaring, like my characters talking about texting or anything.  Just little things that someone very, very familiar with the times would notice.  And say, "That isn't accurate."

It kills me.  I could think of all kinds of excuses (I don't have access to lots of primary sources.  I'm 6,000 miles away from the British Library and the Ashmolean and the Bodleian.) and defenses (I didn't use Wikipedia as my main research source!) and qualifiers (most of my readers won't be Tudor historians).  But it still kills me.  Even if they're not Ph.D.s in 16th Century England, my readers deserve the best.  Maybe I could have rented a place in England and spent hours (months, years) scouring primary sources.    I should have known more.

But with all writing, as we move onto the next book, we realize that we could have known more with the first book.  Could have done things differently.  And all we can do is move forward.

And say -- I'm sorry for my mistakes.  I'll try to do better next time.

Follow Friday -- Jackie Pynaert Garlick

Now, this is a writer to follow.  Jackie Pynaert Garlick has a literary style, full of fabulous metaphors and sensory almost-overload.  She writes books that are close to her heart, that make me wonder and cry -- just by listening to her speak about them.

I can't wait for the rest of the world to see them.

Let me amend that, I can't wait to see them myself.  Because I've seen snippets, but never read the full deal (though I'm waiting to beta read her most recent).

I know Jackie through a round-about route -- SCBWI, the Nevada Mentorship Program, Bret Ballou and Veronica Rossi.  We've shared a room at national conferences, shared more than one meal and several confidences.  She sat beside me while I made a fool of myself rocking out to Billie Joe Armstrong during the Broadway stage production of American Idiot.  I feel very lucky to count her as a friend.

Now, not only is Jackie a great friend and a brilliant writer, she's planner and coordinator for one of the most intriguing children's literature conferences in North America.  The Niagara SCBWI conference is small, intimate, and pulls in some of the biggest names in the industry (this year: Tracey Adams and Nancy Conescu).

And she's Canadian, eh?

Best of all, I get to see Jackie tomorrow at Veronica Rossi's book launch.

You can read Jackie's blog.
You can follow her on Twitter.
But it's best to get to know her personally.  I'll introduce you sometime.

Why I Love My Local Library

As a soon-to-be-published author, I know I should be encouraging all of you to go out and buy books.  And I, myself, should be supporting my fellow writers by contributing to their royalties.  (And now that I’ll actually be earning, I can.)  But patronizing your library isn’t about not buying books.  It’s about loving books.  And so much more.  So here is my shortlist of why I love my local library.

1.  Lest this post end up being completely selfish, let me begin by saying that my library makes unfathomably generous contributions to the community.  Literacy programs.  Free Internet and computer access.  Children’s programs.  Activities.  Shelter.  Books.  Let’s not forget the books, magazines, music CDs, DVDs, audiobooks, research materials, etc., etc., etc.

2.  Libraries are great for children.  I’ve been taking mine since they were chewing on board books.  The library is where we discovered Harry the Dirty Dog, Ed Young’s Seven Blind Mice and then graduated to every single Magic Tree House ever written.  My library has story time and summer reading programs.  Several times a year they do educational shows – we’ve been to see a program on wolf rescue twice.  With real wolves.  Gorgeous.

3.   Research.  You knew I would get here eventually, right? When I wasn’t sure if I could write an entire book on Catherine Howard, I went to the library.  And through interlibrary loan, I got a fabulous, 40-year-old biography of Henry’s fifth queen that had been sitting quietly in a sister library in the sleepy little town of Colusa, California.  It still contained an old-fashioned check-out stamp card with stamps from the 70s on it.  How the book got to Colusa, I don’t know.  But I’m glad it did.  And I’m very thankful for interlibrary loan.  (The book, by Lacey Baldwin Smith, has just been revised and reprinted, and I now own a copy, but I read the one from Colusa twice.)

4.  Libraries buy books.  Hardcover and paperback.  Sometimes multiple copies.  And not just mine (I hope they buy mine!)  My local chain bookstore carries a seemingly infinite variety of paranormal YA.  But little-to-no historical.  And minimal contemporary.  I do my browsing at the library. 

5.  Librarians.  Not only can they help you find the book you want, they can help you find the book you didn’t know you wanted.  They know who just won the Printz and who wrote “that book about the vampire.”  They’re friendly.  Helpful.  Knowledgeable.  And cool.

Originally posted on the YAMuses blog, December 2010.  But I still feel exactly the same.

Confessions (and a Challenge)

I don't do resolutions -- at least I try not to.  Number one, they make me feel guilty.  And I can generally find enough stuff to feel guilty about without adding more.  Number two, any day is a good day to change behaviour and bad habits -- not just the first of the year.  Or so I keep telling myself.

So instead of my resolutions, I'm going to share with you two confessions.  And offer a challenge.  Ready?

Confession # 1.  I read NEVER EIGHTEEN by my 2k12 Classmate, Megan Bostic, a long time ago.  As soon as it appeared on Net Galley, I sent in a request.  I love contemporary YA (I know, crazy, because I write historical stuff) and this book had all the elements -- love, fear, friendship, tragedy.  There's nothing I like better than being so moved by a novel that I cry.  Not only this, but it's set in the Pacific Northwest, an area I haunted on and off for a year in my 20's, and still feel an enormous connection with.  Reading the book was like revisiting my youth.  The confession part is, that I haven't said a word about it until now.  Mostly because if I'd blogged about it back in May, it wouldn't have that much impact.  However, now the book will be out in two weeks (January 17).  And I'm hoping it will make a huge impact.

You see, it's the story of a boy, Austin Parker, who is doing what he can to change the lives of the people he loves.  He can't do much -- he doesn't have time.  But he does what he can.  He reaches out.  And sometimes, this is the most any of us can do.

Which brings us to Confession #2.  Until this past holiday season, I hadn't sent Christmas cards in nine years.  Nine years.  I have friends in many diverse places.  And, unfortunately, I've lost touch with many of them (not everyone can be found on Facebook).  But I want to be in contact with them.  So this past year, I had to try.  Thanks to Megan and Austin Parker.

It's hard to reach out into the void, not knowing if you're going to connect.  I knew I'd lost some people forever.  People move.  And move on.  I've already got one letter back -- Return to Sender.  But I also received a very sweet e-mail from an address in England telling me that the people I sent the letter to had moved.  That letter may never have been returned, and it felt good knowing that someone had the decency to let me know that I had it wrong.  So I could start another search.

Megan has kindly allowed me to participate in her Project Pass It On.  Not only is this a way to get the word out on her book, it's also a way to encourage readers to connect with others.  Check out the web page.  It's wonderful.  And think of ways you can connect.

Now I just need to find the perfect place to pass my copy on.

Friday Five -- My Favorite Books of 2011

I hesitate to say the "Best" books of 2011, because the word is so subjective.  When thinking of "best" I encounter a difficulty choosing between a story I adore, a concept that is truly unique and simply stellar writing.  Plus I know I've read too few books really to be able to suggest that I know which books of 2011 were the "best".

Caveat over.  On to the books!  In no particular order.

1.  Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys.  I blogged about this book back in June over on the YA Muses.  And I can't stop thinking about it.  It covers a segment of history about which I knew nothing, follows the story of a strong and compelling protagonist and tells a story of such poignance and power that it lingers many months in the mind.

2.  Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins.  If you haven't read Anna and the French Kiss or its companion/follow-up, Lola, walk away now and go find a copy.  Feel-good romance and detailed characters you feel you know.  I was so glad to see Anna and St. Clair in Lola, but equally glad that it really told Lola's tale.  She's a character you need to meet.

3.  Stupid Fast by Geoff Herbach.  I wasn't sure I would like this book at first, but it ended up being another one that seized me and wouldn't let go.  An somewhat unreliable narrator who knows he is unreliable but who the reader can look past and see the truth before the character himself can.  So cleverly done, I need to read it again to see how Herbach did it.

4.  Out of Shadows by Jason Wallace.  I love boarding school books.  And this one is set in the 80's (my favorite decade?  No, I guess the 90's were better) and in Zimbabwe.  I felt attachment to this novel before I even read it, and since reading it, I feel I know Zimbabwe better.  History -- only 30 years old -- that few people know or understand brought to life in a novel that could be contemporary.

5.  What Happened to Goodbye by Sarah Dessen.  I love Dessen's novels, and this one did not disappoint.  Beautifully rendered, with fully-developed characters each with quirks and faults and truth.

There are many more books out there that deserve to be on this list.  And I'm always on the lookout for recommendations from others!  Let me know what you've read this year, what's surprising, what made you cry, what changed you.  And, of course, what you're looking forward to next year!

5.

Best. Present. Ever.

I have a very dear friend -- we've known each other since we were fifteen -- who is always a breath of light and happiness when I see her.  We tend to fall into the same kind of chat and banter that we always have, even though we only see each other a couple of times a year.  We catch up -- "How's your dad?" "What are your kids up to?"and then we just are.

Wilathi is an artist, a gardener, a healer and a philosopher.  She is one of those people you love to know.  And she is also one of those people who treasures her friends and family.  I'm glad to be one of them.

Yesterday, Wil gave me a holiday gift.  When she handed me the square-framed, lensless glasses, I didn't get it at first.  She had decorated the temples and the rims, but the original rosy color shone through.  I put them on, asked, "Do these make me look more intelligent?"

And then I got it.

In our twenties, Wil delightedly accepted the fact that she sees the world through rose-colored glasses.  She wants to be the optimist.  The Pollyana.  The one who sees the good in the world.  "There's already so much negativity," she says. "So much darkness.  Why shouldn't we put these on to help us remember that there is also positivity, goodness and light?"

So I have my rose-colored glasses.  When things seem to be too much for me, when the fact of my father's illness or the snarky reviews or the weight of my responsibilities get to me, I can put them on, and remember the good, the positive and the light.  And Wil.

Merry Christmas

And happy Boxing Day, everyone.  Here's wishing that you are having a fabulous holiday!