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My Writer's Journal

Words Matter

January 25, 2011
I spend my days trying to choose exactly the right words to put into the mouths of characters as diverse as Cleopatra (she spoke Greek), Mary, Queen of Scots (French, and a Scottish version of English), and now Victoria. And so I am always interested in the choices made by other authors, writing in other times. In HUCKLEBERRY FINN, Mark Twain used what we are now prissily calling "the N-word" more than 200 times. A professor of literature, claiming that the offensive word is too strong for young readers, and too difficult for their teacher or parents to explain, has decided to rewrite Twain's classic, substituting "slave" for that offensive "N-word."

I share a home page on Twitter with a black rapper who tweets about every fifteen minutes and uses the N-word in about half of his tweets. It's an ugly word that makes my teeth ache, but I disagree with the professor (and with the rapper, too).

A week ago I saw THE KING'S SPEECH, nominated for a whole string of Academy Awards. It's a wonderful movie--a particularly wonderful movie for kids. But it has an R-rating, meaning that anyone under 17 must be accompanied by an adule. Why? Because it's got that "F-word," which of course is never uttered in the presence of tender young ears. (It's very funny in the way it's used, but there it is.)

Meanwhile, TRUE GRIT, which I also enjoyed because it uses language brilliantly, is littered with dead bodies, chopped-off fingers, and quarts of blood--I would call it fairly violent. It has a PG-13 rating. Go figure.

These are the kinds of things I think about as I write. Victoria was not allowed to associate with a whole passel of young cousins, children of a duke who was not properly married to their mother, because they were--in the word used in that time--bastards. Can I use that word in my novel? Or will readers--or their parents or teachers--become upset? Read More 
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Starting Over

December 31, 2010
It's the last day of 2010, and as usual I'm starting over. This time I'm starting over with VICTORIA RULES. After more than six weeks of diligent writing, I have produced about FIVE PAGES--the same five pages, over and over. I can't seem to find the way into this story, the hook that will grab a reader's attention and hold it. The only thing that has survived this constant reworking is the first line: I hate Sir John Conroy. So far so good. But how then do I write the scene that shows exactly why Victoria hates this man? So far I've been extremely busy hitting the delete key, dumping one idea that seemed perfect at first and replacing it with another one that may, or may not, work better. It occurs to me that I might have to come up with a different opening. I really, really like that one, but I know it's a mistake to fall in love with my own words--even a wonderful first line.

I hate Sir John Conroy. Now what? Read More 
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Penny for my thoughts

December 16, 2010
A writer I know told me recently that he's writing a memoir about his father and is nearly overwhelmed by his dad's many highly detailed notebooks--his dreams, the birds he'd sighted, etc. Every time he found a penny lying on the ground, he'd pick it up and make a mental note of what he was thinking about at that exact moment. Later, he'd enter the "thought" in a notebook he kept for that specific purpose. (He was a teacher, and when his students learned of this habit, they began leaving pennies around for him to find. He caught on and told them to save their money.) Now his son, my friend, is trying to make sense of all those penny thoughts.

I quit keeping a journal a couple of years ago, believing it was better for me to funnel all my energies into my books, but now I'm wondering. I've tried the technique: There's a penny, what am I thinking? I guess it's something you have to learn to do, because so far it looks as though I'm never thinking of anything, that my mind is a complete blank. Can this be true? It does make me wonder, though, if I shouldn't go back to keeping a journal, just to prove to myself that my head isn't as empty as it seems. Read More 
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Reading CLEOPATRA CONFESSES

December 2, 2010
It's always exciting when the galley proofs for a new book come in from the publisher. CLEOPATRA arrived the day after Thanksgiving in the midst of visitors and leftovers (all good!). I'm very happy with the design of the book, the way it's laid out, the type style, and especially the decorative elements used on the pages that separate the sections. It really does make a difference in the pleasure of reading when a book looks good, and I have to say that CLEOPATRA CONFESSES is handsome.

As usual I found a few little mistakes, mostly mine, although a few were printer's typos. Having been away from the manuscript for several months, I was able to look at the typeset version with fresh eyes. Fortunately, there will be a number of other eyes to catch any other errors, and yet I know that a couple of little mistakes will sneak past all of us. At least I hope they're little! Read More 
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Order! Order!

November 24, 2010
I'm a fiend for order, a demon for organization. I'm one of those people who thrive on routine--need it, in fact, in order to function. The first routine to be established once I'd unpacked was getting back to my morning walks. So now I head out the front door, turn left, and start walking--first through the downtown area, then past a few blocks of charming old bungalows, and finally into the Country Club neighborhood with some pretty upscale digs. On Christmas Eve they'll all be glowing with literally hundreds of luminarias, the candle-in-a-bag that's a custom here.

So far I've met a really handsome dog, a huge mastiff named Odin. I informed his owner, a guy about 20, that Odin was the name of the dog belonging to Count von Fersen, who was in love with Marie-Antoinette. He probably thinks he's run into the neighborhood eccentric.

Fifty minutes and about 2-1/2 miles later, I'm ready for the day. Order has been established.  Read More 
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Settling In

November 14, 2010
Most of our new apartment is in order, I've figured out the phone system (sort of), and I'm loving my office with its panorama of cityscape, sky, and mountains. This is so different from my old office--I feel as though I'm in a kind of dreamworld.

Tomorrow I begin serious work on VICTORIA RULES. Soon the galley proofs of CLEOPATRA CONFESSES will arrive. And then maybe THE WILD QUEEN: MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS will come back for another go. So, after a long hiatus spent packing, cleaning, and unpacking, I'll be back in the writing life again.

Thank goodness! Read More 
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The New Place

November 8, 2010
A week ago today the movers arrived at 8:30 AM, while we were still madly packing. By 6 PM we were sitting dazedly in the new place, waiting for pizza to be delivered for our first meal. For the past week I have been alternating between unpacking the mountain of boxes: kitchen first, so we didn't have to eat pizza every night; then my clothes, so I could change to some clean ones, and now my office--and then dragging myself back to the old place to clean. Ugh! Both places were a mess, but I'm more concerned with the new one. Where am I going to put everything? My printer? My scanner? There's a new phone system that doesn't seem to work. I can't figure out the voice mail.

But I have one big box labeled QUEEN VICTORIA, and I've vowed that next week I'm going to have this place whipped into shape, and I'll turn into a writer again. Read More 
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Transitions

October 24, 2010
The casual observer would think I was moving to a distant country--Patagonia maybe, or Bhutan, or to live on a river boat or in a yurt. My new home is only seven blocks away, but still it will be a complete change. I'm leaving a 100+-year-old Victorian house with lots of odd little spaces and a giant basement, and a big backyard with a Victorian doghouse, birdbath and feeders, and lots of plants that are still blooming.

But the new place is a brand new loft, built to our specifications, about half the size of our house. There's a drop-down ladder by which to crawl up to a tiny storage area for suitcases and Christmas decorations. My office is minuscule, but it has a huge window with views of the Sandia mountains and the Downtown cityscape, and it has a balcony!

We move next week, with lots of mixed feelings--excitement for the new place and a large dose of nostalgia at leaving the old. Read More 
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Stuff I Save

October 14, 2010
We're packing to move. For the next two weeks, maybe longer, I will not write. I will sort through the stuff I've saved for years. I'll get rid of some of it. A lot has already gone--to Goodwill, to the library, to consignment. I have vowed that I will be brutally efficient. I will not get bogged down in sentiment. But I have failed already.

There is a two-drawer chest on my desk into which I toss odds and ends: business cards of people I barely remember, stamps that cost 29 cents, dried-out markers and glu-stiks. There is also a little bowl in which I once tossed a couple of old bracelets, one with an award I won in high school, the other one a silver ID bracelet tarnished to black. I can make out the engraved initials: H.V.M. That was my father. On the reverse, with a flourish of leaves, L.B.

There is no date, but it must have been about 1930. Dad had gotten a job in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. He was an engineer who should have been an actor, a writer, a singer. But he had done the practical thing, and now he was working for the phone company and acting in community theater--leading man roles. [His picture is on MY LIFE page.] His leading lady was Lavinia Buckwalter. I know, because I read the critics' reviews in his scrapbook. She was crazy about him. I know this, because I once found her letters. I don't know how he felt about her, but I do know that within a couple of years he left Harrisburg for Lewistown, where he met Sara Knepp. Her picture is on the MY LIFE page, too. And he kept the bracelet.

And now, some 90 years later, I sit here at my desk, wondering what to do with that bracelet. For now, I'll pack it. Read More 
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My First Book

October 5, 2010
I remember how excited I was when my first book, MISS PATCH'S LEARN-TO-SEW BOOK, was published more than 40 years ago. I've written more than fifty books since then, and I had nearly forgotten about Miss Patch, until I got this e-mail:

I'm so glad I found a site where I can contact you! My name is Yvonne and I'm a 46 year old mother to 4 year old girl. When I was about nine years old my school library in Los Angeles had a copy of your book, Miss Patch's Learn to Sew. I remember I was so excited to find your book at the school library. I was enthralled with the pictures and even though I'd 'officially' stopped playing with dolls, I could not wait to make the Barbie dresses, and doll quilt. I loved the book. I kept renewing the book, and even did my book report on it. I spent hours playing with my fabrics, reading my books and dreaming and imagining all the projects I wanted to make.

Then my arch enemy, Nancy, decided she wanted to check out the book. She complained I'd had it too long so I had to turn it over to her. I was so sad. I'd managed to make the Barbie dresses but never got to the quilt. Nancy kept the book the entire rest of the year.

Fast forward to adulthood. I finally have a daughter I want to sew for. But where to start? I remembered how much I'd loved my little Miss Patches book. I did ebay and Amazon searches and found a beautiful copy with the original cover still! I can't tell you how wonderful it was to have this darling book back in my hands again. I've had the book now for a couple of years, I'd bought it when Dahlia was still a baby.

Yesterday I picked up my mom's Kenmore sewing machine, and I am going to teach Dahlia how to sew. I can't wait. We have the book...and this time, I don't have to worry about returning it.

Thank you, Yvonne. You can't imagine what it's like to get a fan letter like yours! And I wonder whatever happened to Nancy....is she still grabbing other people's library books? Read More 
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