Poetry Friday: Only Love Can Do That

“I don’t believe poetry should be a solitary intellectual adventure. It should be a relationship with people, it should forge a connection. Good poetry does not belong to the poet.” ---Dolores Kendrick, D.C. Poet Laureate, in this interview with the Washington Post

I've been gone from this blog for almost three months now, and it's not because I was on "a solitary intellectual adventure" (although I've been revising a YA novel.) It had mostly to do with three successive moves in the family---or what we have dubbed The Summer of the U-Haul Truck. Which has ended happily with two children in new digs and my husband and I now living in a row house with its own library.

(This picture is pre-books.
Now it's full, every inch of it.)

Still, after a three-month break, it's hard to re-engage with blogging without thinking about why I'm doing it. It's a question authors get asked a lot: Why do you write? (Yes, blogging is writing.) At this past weekend's National Book Festival (to which I walked, thanks to our new location) I heard Gary Schmidt say he writes because a book may be the only companion a child has. He visited a prison where six locked doors separated the kids from the outside world, where the inmates were allowed no personal possessions, and yet, they had been able to read his book and could talk to him about it. One child said he identified with the dog in the story---because he himself would never be able to have one.

Me, Gary Schmidt, and Sondy Eklund
at the National Book Festival

Which brings me back again to the quote above, about poetry not belonging to the poet. Or, as Gary Schmidt might say, books don't belong to the author---they go where they are needed. And yet, it's the age of personal vocalizing. Blogs enable us to catcall, cheer, kvetch, croon, and crystalize our every thought. So does this blog, in fact, belong to me, in a way my poems or my novels don't?

In answer, I overheard last night a cell phone conversation at 2:00am. We sleep with our windows open, and the bay window in our bedroom amplifies sound from the sidewalk below. Usually, it's remarkably quiet---the first morning in the new house, we were awakened in this great city by a noisy. . . bird.  But last night, Mr. Angry Man crept into my sleep, gradually wakening me as he and his phone walked into my hearing zone, until I surfaced to this loud bellow: "I texted you yesterday that I WAS FINE!!!" I could even hear the unintelligible but anguished reply of his cell phone friend before he passed out of range.

So, dear friends, I am fine. This blog is fine. I do write almost all of it as a solitary adventure. I have no routine. No set mission. No way to permanently hold onto the posts or poems that I put out there.

But I don't think I want to do it without a connection with you. You are the only reason I write.

So welcome to Poetry Friday.  Please leave your links in the comments below and I'll round them up.

In lieu of a poem, I'd like to contribute these words from Martin Luther King, whose speech was often poetic. They can be found on his new memorial, which is now open to the public---and is a very long walk from my home, and yet on the day of the National Book Festival, we did that too. Because we could.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; Only light can do that

Hate cannot drive out hate; Only love can do that.

Please read Sondy's wonderful writeup of Gary Schmidt's talk and the rest of the National Book Festival.

Poetry Friday Connections:

Poet Charles Ghigna summons us with an original poem, "Drum Beats," at his new blog, FATHER GOOSE.

Robyn embarked on a walk with "binoculars and optimism," and comes back with The Birds by Linda Pastan.

Teacher Dance collects poems of goodbye for her students, and she shares a lovely one in her post, Endings Hold Mixed Emotions.

At Gathering Books, another teacher celebrates former students through the poetry of their father in The Ties That Bind.

Jone is trumpeting the Cybils Poetry Team today. Huzzah, Poetry! And as Jone says, don't forget that Cybils nominations open tomorrow, October 1st. 

Diane brings a whole basket of poetry links for us: an original poem at Random Noodling, "The Oleo Kid" at Kids of the Homefront Army, a poem by Gail Mazur at Kurious Kitty and a quote by Joan Giroux.Kurious K's Kwotes'.

At The Poem Farm, Amy is thinking about time and things we "used to do." She reminds me of why I have my old Raggedy Ann doll in my writing office. 

Julie Larios at The Drift Record wants us to meet two geniuses. She has videos about Kay Ryan and A.E. Stallings, two poets who received MacArthur Foundation grants this week. (Bonus: the word "hokum" is used.)  Plus she has enticed me with her call for Poetry Advocates for Children and Young Adults. Visit "Poetry at Play" and spread the word.

Pentimento is tending to Blake's illustrated poem, The Sick Rose.

Jeff Barger reveals how walking sticks, luna moths, and ladybugs can rock multiplication problems in his STEM/Poetry Friday post, Multiply on Fly.   

Mary Lee at A Year of Reading always has fantastic poetry to share, and today it's a glorious Linda Pastan poem about fall. Go and roll the word "pumpkin" off your tongue.

Love is in the air at Laura Purdie Salas's blog, but with an amusing twist: love poems from one animal to another by the ever-creative  Marilyn Singer. Plus, Laura has her usual (and always unintimidating) invitation to join her in creating 15 Words or Less poems.

Karen Edmisten dips into The Writer's Almanac for her poetry selection today, a pithy bit of wisdom called September Visitors.

Can I quote Maria Horvath on her blog post today? She says Carl Sandburg explains what love was, is, and shall be. A spectacular poem that I'm clipping straight into my poetry common book. 

Rice on your sock? Poems from the "purple cursive of her veins"?  How to Tell If a Korean Woman Loves You by Christy NaMee Eriksen, a glorious find by Tabatha Yeatts.  

Ha! J. Patrick Lewis is always clever, and his poem, One Cow, Two Moos, is that and more. (Be prepared to groan a bit at the pun.) Thanks to Debbie Diller for sharing it. 

On the Stenhouse Blog, Maine teacher/author, Anne Tommaso explores why "Poetry demands you return when you are different." Dang. An exploding kind of thought if there ever was one.

If you've never read Mary Oliver, let this post hit you between the eyes: Joyce Ray gives us Oliver at her finest. 

Liz Garton Scanlon knows how to ease you past a dry spell. Today, you can linger with her and savor Nothing by Ken Mikolowski.

Poetry can take on anything. Even Animal Fights. Thanks, Anastasia Suen for another STEM/Poetry Friday mashup.


I feel a swearing fit coming on after reading Jama's post, "Manners" by Kim Addonizio. But I promise not to take it out in the Clorox aisle at Safeway.

So it turns out Julie Larios (above) was right about POETRY AT PLAY---it's fabulous. You'll be a regular subscriber/cheerleader/greatbighonkingfan after this post about master poet David McCord.

Andi Sibley at the wrung sponge reviews At the Sea Floor Cafe. More science and poetry!

Heidi Mordhorst is joining us with a poem from "the trenches of 7th grade" (hoo-boy, those can be deep!)  and news about the release of the p*tag digital poetry anthology.

Gregory K, you had me at fried: Things I Saw Fried at the Fair Thing I want most to taste fried? One of those chewy orange circus peanuts. Or possibly popcorn. Can popcorn be re-fried?

Elaine Magliaro is "Saving Summer" at Blue Rose Girls and talking furniture, reclaiming a room, and grandbabies at Wild Rose Reader. Cute baby alert!

I'm one of those stab-able morning people. (I'm even worse after coffee and a run.)  So thanks, JoAnn Early Macken, for We Are the Early Risers. Wade in, morning lovers, wade in.

Sally Ito at PaperTigers shares a book her daughter loved (the best kind!): The Eleventh Hour by Graeme Base.

For all those who have gotten sidetracked while pursuing the muse: Not the Poem I Wanted to Write by David Elzey.  How true it is, David.

Carlie celebrates webs which "bloom with bursts of silver thread" in her original poem.  Lovely indeed.

Ah, our "bootless cries." What to do when consumed by them? Ruth has Shakespeare's answer in Sonnet XXIX.

Judy is musing on "these seamstresses’ chalks and golden needles" in Galway Kinnel's poem, The Shroud.

Got questions?

KidLitCon is this weekend!  Along with Caroline Hickey, Laurel Snyder, and Wendie Old, I'm part of an author panel called "It’s Not About Your Book: Writing Ideas for Blogging Authors."

We'll each be talking about why we blog, and why we read other authors' blogs, and how we find a balance between our blogging/promotional lives and our more secluded writing lives. Then we'll take questions.  Which is where YOU come in. Even if you can't make the conference, we'd like some input from you, and we'll post our replies back to our blogs so everyone can be part of the conversation.

What would you like to know about blogging as an author? Do you have questions about how we decide what to blog about/how we got started/why we continue/what benefits we see/what the pitfalls are?  Or any other question?

Let's have 'em!

Also, don't forget:  This Friday is the deadline to enter a jody call in the comments here or here to win a signed copy of Operation Yes.  Right now, I have two brave souls who are stomping all over the rest of you who haven't entered yet. Let's MOVE IT, people!!!  :)

Books We Can't Forget and Other Great Links

I'm so not in the blogging mindset lately. My life is consumed by family, and talking to Cheryl about my next book, and plotting for the release of Operation Yes.  

A part of me thinks I should shut down Read*Write*Believe for the summer. The other part says I'll miss it if I do. 

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying these great posts across the blogosphere: 

What a Girl Wants: The Books We Can't Forget

Why Some People Need to Write the Funny (via Robin Brande)

I'm Younger Than That Now 

The post I didn't think I'd write

You know what's on the horizon? My blogversary!

(That's me, on the right, with serious cake face.)

On July 6, 2007, I started this blog (on a double-dog dare from Jules and Robin) with a post on a Poetry Friday. I called it Enter, because as I explained, the word "begin" has always "terrified and paralyzed me."

Little did I know that the word "blogversary" would also immobilize me. It's four days away and I haven't bought myself you a present. I haven't planned a surprise party. I haven't written a witty and tender post about my first year in Blogistan.

Worse, I'm about to go on a blog vacation! Family and a writer's retreat have claimed my attention, not to mention the final tweaks on my revisions. And of course, my blogversary falls on a weekend, when I lazily do not blog.

I feel like I'm standing in front of the rack of gift cards on Christmas Eve. Bath and Body Works? Victoria's Secret? Cheesecake Factory?

A year of blogging doesn't seem long enough for a retrospective celebration. But I'm doing it anyway. Unless you really want a 7-Eleven gift card.

The post with the most comments? Saying Yes with 33.

The shortest? The aptly named A Very Short Post. My life in six words.

Strangest title? An Anti-Chair Polemic.

Post with the most unexpected consequence? Out with the Cappuccino, In with the Mountain Dew. Without any help from me, the comments on that one gave birth to a whole new blog site for older boy readers: Guy Lit Wire. (I'm embarrassed when bloggers site or credit me for this. I was the ooze! Just the primordial ooze. Fabulous other bloggers evolved it.)

Post that mentions Elmer Fudd? Fight's on!

Post that gets strange search engine hits? Drop down and give me twenty! I think because I mention pushup bras.

Post that makes practical types gnash their teeth? Credo. Because it's most often found by a search on "how to write a credo." I don't think they want a poem that begins "I don't believe in..."

Post about nothing and everything? Where Ideas Come From. Coffee sludge, anyone? (Or if you prefer, Potato Chips and Coffee, in which I write a poem before your very eyes.)

Post truly about nothing? Empty as a Pocket with Nothing to Lose...

Favorite Big Question post? Am I Living my Life for an Audience? I virtually sit on Oprah's couch and refuse to give the right answer.

My best writing tips? Attention, all those in the waiting area: The importance of delay. Taking Out the Trash: How a cheap notebook enables me to write. It's All in the Manuscript: It's all in the title.

Post with the best shoes? At the prom... My interview at 7-Imps. (Side note: number of posts that mention shoes? 23!)

Most rewarding experiences of the year? Tie between Cybils judging and writing a crown sonnet with six other fabulous poets and co-blogging about exercise and writing with Liz.

Post I didn't think I'd write? Today's. A year. I've been blogging almost a year. I've published 287 posts. And made countless friends.

Thanks for making me feel at home in Blogistan. I promise to get you a present next year.

Marshmallows

I wanted to burst back in from my blog vacation with a post shining with casual glamor, like returning from the Caribbean with a golden, glowing tan. I would unload my suitcase of carefully chosen literary souvenirs, which I had scooped up during my time away, slide photos of my high-minded pursuits into the conversation, and weave an amusing, insight-laden tale of my days sans modern comforts like blogging.

But that would mean that I'd been think-blogging during my time away, now wouldn't it? (Think-blogging: composing posts in your head while experiencing real life.)

The reality is that my daughter's been home; I've been enjoying her company; and I'm about to tackle the fifteen-page revision letter for New Recruit. (Don't cry for me. I love this stuff.)

So all I have for you today are marshmallows:

1) From NBC's official site for Lost: Sawyer's Nickname Generator. Maybe you've already played with this, but I hadn't. My nickname? Moonbeam. I'm irrationally pleased. Not the reaction Sawyer intended, I'm sure.

2) In extremely light, but strangely satisfying news: Blogger has now removed the unnecessary quotation marks from its Delete Post page's "Cancel" button. Get the initial investigative outcry here, and the official capitulation here.

3) If you're not watching Masterpiece Theater's Cranford, why not? As the town gossip puts it: "Put no further pastries to your lips or you will choke when you hear the news." Watch the trailer here.

3) And should you lack delightful pastries to refrain from choking upon, I offer my brother's Marshmallow Bites recipe:

1 pkg puff pastry, both sheets thawed for 40 minutes to bring to room temperature
1 bag large marshmallows
2-3 Tablespoons melted butter
cinnamon sugar (store bought or mix 1 T. cinnamon into 1/2 cup sugar)

Roll out the pastry to gently smooth any folds and thin it slightly. Cut each sheet into 12 squares. Roll marshmallows in melted butter, then cinnamon sugar. Place each marshmallow in a pastry square and squeeze the edges together, like wontons. Pop the squares into well-greased muffin tins and bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes. Cool enough to avoid molten sugar burns. Eat plain or with vanilla ice cream or top with sliced bananas and chocolate sauce.

Mmmmmm.

On Break

I love it when my daughter is home, because she shares cool science/art links like this:

The 2007 Periodic Table Printmaking Project.

Check out the way cool wolf-element Tungsten...or volfram, if you're Swedish.

I'll keep an eye out for comments, but mostly, I'll be taking a blog vacation to be with her. :)

Guys Lit Wire Set to Launch June 1

Colleen at Chasing Ray said it was cool to cut and paste this from her blog, so I'm doing it. This is such an awesome idea, and I can't wait to see how it catches fire. (Note: the Sarah mentioned is NOT me. I'm Sara. Sarah would be the talented blogger from Finding Wonderland.)

And one more thing. I know there are guys who read my blog. You know you want to do this. Think about emailing Colleen and getting in on the ground floor of this sweet start-up. (I think that's guy-speak for pretty please?)

________________________________________________

Just to update you on the idea that several of us have been bouncing around for a web site recommending books to teenage boys. We are working on the design and putting together a big list of daily posters. But first the name:

Guys Lit Wire!!

All credit for that one goes to Sarah (who will likely also want to mention some help from Tanita). I was banging my head hard against the wall on this and Sarah came through big time. So kudos to her limitless creativity which will be big time on display on the site. Wait until you see the header she is working on for the main page - it is some kind of awesome.

We are planning to go live by June 1st and update every Monday - Friday with a different daily poster. We hope to have 21 folks on board dedicated to posting at least once a month. This way we get tons of new content from lots of different points of view, which is what I really wanted. We will likely run multiple daily posts as the site evolves but readers will be able to count for sure on at least one new post every weekday and that is what we will build a lot of the site's readership on.

There will be book recommendations, author interviews, literary commentary, a rant or two (I'm sure) and lots of other good stuff. The goal is to cover a ton of different types of books from across the literary spectrum so we can become a good resource to actual teenagers as well as anyone seeking to find books for teen boys. (And if the girls want to visit we are happy to have them, but boys are our target audience.)

Right now everything is moving forward quite nicely but we do still need some folks to commit to posting. If any of you would like to participate in Guys Lit Wire (or recommend someone) then please let me know. We are especially looking for guys so we can keep our group balanced (and because guys know a thing or two about what guys like to read... :) Please send me an email if you can help. (colleenatchasingraydotcom)

Potato Chips and Coffee

Remember when I woke up thinking I don't need you to be me?

Today, I woke up thinking potato chips don't go with coffee.

Then I thought (of course):

But I can't blog about that!

People warned me this would happen. That I'd start to see my life like a blogging Hamlet. Too much navel gazing. Too much pondering the meaning of every little thing. (Not that slings and arrows are trivial, Hamlet---I don't mean to make fun of your distress. But after watching Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, my opinion of you hasn't been the same.)

One thing blogging has taught me is trust. I don't obsess over whether or not I'll have something "blog-worthy" each day. I simply wake up and write. I show up; the words show up---just like those writer books that preach Butt-in-Chair Time said they would.

My poetry writing has taught me trust, too. Take that line Potato chips don't go with coffee. It may be a ridiculous thought to wake up thinking, but it would be a surprising start to a poem.

Potato chips don't go with coffee
My alarm alarmed me with those words.
I told you
and you said
Led Zeppelin doesn't go with mashed potatoes
and I said
that's not the same thing!
And you said
you're alarming me, my sweet, raw potato.

You see? That may not be the most amazing poem I've ever written, but I like it.

Tell me about a time that you didn't reject the first thought that came to you. Tell me about when you followed a silly idea. Tell me why potato chips go with coffee.

Now I do, a little

He talks about blogging. He quotes from Plato and The Princess Bride and Babylon 5. He died on Jan. 3rd. Read this soldier's last blog post. No, I didn't know him, but now I do, a little.

(And please, respect his wish not to have his name used as a political football by either side.)

If You're Grumpy and You Know It

Sure, we laugh at Dopey. But sometimes we wish we were Grumpy. At least I do. There are some bloggers who do grumpy so well.

They get angry at the real bad stuff in this world:

"Cancer murdered my father; I'm still waiting for the country to take notice." (Colleen Mondor at Chasing Ray)

They plan whole books about the art of the Nag:

"I could cover the rewards of nagging (it works), my connection to a long line of honorable naggers through my maternal line, nagging's place in the greater society, how nagging has been perceived throughout history, turning points in history that were influenced by nagging, nagging as the foundation of the American family..." (Gail Gauthier at Original Content)

They title their posts Britney = Elvis and Big Stinky Review Fun:

"So many trees, giving up their lives so valiantly in the name of books that should never have been published." (David Elzey at fomagrams)

It's not that I don't get grumpy. Yes, I'm often irritated, furious, beaked, mildly annoyed and plain pissed off. It's just that I can't channel those feelings into good, biting prose. My version of Howl would be called Mewl, or perhaps Fret.

So I really, really enjoy it when someone lets loose. Not with a flame, or a small-minded rant, or a hurtful personal attack. But righteous anger, unapologetic grumpiness, a passionate, utterly devastating take-down of greed? That can make me smile for days. (Yes, it's Jimmy Stewart. I never tire of watching him.)

So if you're grumpy and you know it, raise your hand. Or better yet, write about it and let me read it. Submit your favorite bouts of grumpiness in the comments.

P.S. I'm SO sorry to do this to you, but you have to check out Grumpy's Bail Bonds. Their motto is: You ring. We spring. And the owner has written a book.

Why isn't he blogging?

Okay, this is not exactly kidlit related, but bear with me. Sometimes you run across someone who deserves to be heard. And, slap me if I'm wrong, but there might be a perception that "soldier" and "good writer" do not go together. I'd like to dispel that thought, here and now.

From a soldier overseas who I'm not at liberty to name (but his callsign is Starbaby):

I don’t know who had the bright idea that civilians should wear black Kevlar helmets. Aside from the fact that black is always a poor color for the deserts, black Kevlar coal-scuttle helmets went out with the Waffen SS. Admittedly,there was a short, humorous resurgence in “Spaceballs”. This comes to mind because civilians, obviously, travel on the same helicopters that I do. So, w here I show up in battledress, with enough body armor to sink a coal barge, assault pack, helmet, weapons, ammo, gloves, eye protection and water, lots of these folks show up (with laptop) in their Georgio Armani designer plate carriers (which successfully protect both lungs, the heart, the top of the liver, the appendix and about six vertebra), safari shirts from Banana Republic, and the obligatory cargo pants from Land’s End. And the black helmet. And every one of them is making more money than I do. God save us from Rick Moranis’ legions of doom.

And here he is, skewering those
who stock the local military store:

Also, in a macabre piece of retail brilliance, we now have an entire display rack of little Gold Star Banners, to send home to Mom. Blue stars mean that the family has a member serving in the military. Gold stars mean that a family member has been killed in action. So, we have an entire display for the unusually fatalistic and obsessively deranged person who plans everything in advance. This person can buy one and stick it in their underwear drawer, in the sure knowledge that if the worst happens (like a heart attack in front of the ice cream bar), somebody will mail their personal effects home, and they will have been ahead of the power curve on the banner thing. Morons.

P.S. I take it back. This post is kidlit friendly. Upon further perusal of his emails, I found references to "lions, tigers, and bears, (oh my)," "all dogs cringe when yelled at (thank you, Terry Pratchett)," and of course, the Cookie Monster sponsorship. So I went for the goal and asked about his favorite childhood books and voila! he gave me this very respectable, totally kidlit worthy list, complete with age references:

The Lorax (6)

Uncle Remus Stories (3/4) - the Disney version. They had to take that one away from me, actually.

Chronicles of Narnia (8)

The Hobbit (9)

The Lord of the Rings (11)

The Dark is Rising Series (13)

I didn't ask him if he still reads children's books, but something tells me he might. I wonder how his reviews would sound? With apologies (and thanks) to Starbaby:

"Someone, please, slap a black helmet on Madonna. And tell her the Post Exchange stocks enough crap without Lotsa De Casha taking shelf space away from Slim Jims and cookies."

Gossip Column

Ever see the fast-talking Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday? No? How about the modern day equivalent: Betsy Bird of Fuse 8? (Go look at that pic of Rosalind and tell me Betsy isn't channeling her.) Betsy has posted FOUR essays on the 1st Annual Kidlitosphere Conference. Me? I've barely had time to digest my food from the conference, let alone what I did/saw/thought. I'm also terrible at the tidy overview. I was the one in class who never took notes; I just listened. Thus, the following...

GOSSIP COLUMN

Laini Taylor met her husband, Jim Di Bartolo, on the first day of Art School in the parking lot. She was a Navy brat. And now she's an awesome author with pink hair and a cool illustrator husband. This makes me feel good about the futures of my own two children, who are also growing up military. And! And! She has a new blog about writing, Not For Robots, which makes me feel immensely better about my struggles with revision just now. I'm wearing the button she gave me as inspiration.

Ellen Klages can name five kinds of blue cheese. Just ask her. She also spoke up bravely for those who HATE the term "kid lit." This doesn't include me. I only hate it if it's "kiddie lit" but still, kudos to Ellen, who knows how to speak her mind.

Gregory K. knows the real purpose of the appendix. And would have advised me to name this post: "Sixty Boobs Meet in Chicago," which would have caused my stat ratings to go through the roof. If I had named it "Judy Blume and Sixty Boobs Meet in Chicago," I would have attracted a "narrowcast" of just the right crowd. (I know, Judy wasn't there, but her little sister was. My, how rumors spread...)

Adrienne can pull a cute pink t-shirt out of thin air. And next time, I'm coming to the conference early so I can shop with her. That girl covered some ground!

Esme Raji Codell knows exactly how wrong Meet the Author Events can go, and thus, provides posters and cookies and lovely signs, and makes every single person feel loved and part of the circle. Please, someone put her in charge of the National Office of Children's Authors Book Visits: Policies and Plans. And pay her a lot so she never leaves.

Imps act rather impish if you sit between them. They pass notes. They make jokes about balls and nostrils. They look oh-so-sweet and innocent, but those are some wickedly funny and sharp minds those two have. One might even call them juggernauts of the kidlitosphere, if one wanted to risk sparking a rash of witty give and take.

Robin either knows herself very well or has an evil internal clock. On the first coffee run, she told me to meet her in SEVEN minutes in the lobby. The next morning, she instructed me to appear in THREE minutes. What? Does she not do five/ten/fifteen minutes intervals like the rest of us? Where are those missing minutes, people?

Confidential to Sara: Someone tell that poor girl not to order only one hard-boiled egg at an IHOP. (Okay, I knew this, in theory, but I'd already had a large chocolate mocha and a bagel with cream cheese and a banana from Starbucks with my coffee buddy--see above--that morning. But when the egg came in the little dish, I felt silly, like a kid at a birthday party whose mom told the hostess not to give her child any cake. Luckily, Tricia saved the day by sharing a delicious potato pancake with me.)

And apparently, there was kidlit action going on at home, as well. When my plane (Susan of Wizards Wireless was also on it) landed at National Airport, right on time, the pilot informed us that we would have to wait indefinitely on the tarmac until a gate opened up. (What? A plane landing is a COMPLETE SURPRISE?) So my husband had to spend an hour in the cell phone parking lot. I apologized when I finally got into the car, and he smiled and said: "No problem. I finished this great book." It was Cecil Castellucci's YA novel, Boy Proof. The one she'd signed in L.A., but I hadn't even read yet. As soon as I do, we're going to gossip about it.

Gossip: Cause that's what happens when I don't take notes.

***Thanks to Mark and Andrea of Just One More Book for the awesome photos!

***Next year's conference will be in Portland, under the leadership of Jone (MsMac.) Make your plans now!

SCBWI L.A. Conference: Cynthia Leitich Smith Tells All

Cynthia Leitich Smith

This was an amazingly information-packed session. Cynthia promised to eventually post a list of links at her site, so keep checking back there. (And I'll go back and link from here when it's up.)