Indiana Authors & Illustrators

Another quick marketing post. Don't know if all states have them, but Indiana has a website for their children's authors. Since I've written several YA books I wrote and asked if I could be listed, and after filling out a form they posted my books.

Here I am. :-)

http://childrensauthors.in.gov/index.php?page=madden,%20kelly

Also a great place to find fellow writers close by.

I've been doing a lot of marketing research lately and I thought I'd give a shout out to, in my opinion, the BEST place a writer can go to find publishers, agents, and advice. This site states very clearly who are the bad guys and the good guys. Wow. A place that actually looks after writers. It's free too. When I make it big they will be getting a donation from me.

My only wish is that the listings would be done by genre, but you can still find what you need by trolling through, letter by letter.

http://pred-ed.com/pubagent.htm

Hyacinths For The Soul

If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Moslih Eddin Saadi, Gulistan (Garden of Roses)

This poem is a favorite of my mom’s, and I love it as much as she does. To me it means humans not only crave beauty, we need it to survive as much as food and water.

I’m reminded of a story I read about women in refugee camps. What did they want almost immediately after being fed? Lipstick. I don’t think that desire is frivolous. They wanted a small bit of glamour in the midst of terror and chaos. Beauty, after all, is a marker of our humanity.

Today I was one of the millions watching the royal wedding. I know there are contradicting opinions on the validity of royalty, but for me, this wedding was a hyacinth.

The setting was breathtaking. William and Katherine were the very essence of romance as they walked down a tree-lined red carpet. When the angelic voices of young boys serenaded them with a centuries old chant, my eyes filled with tears. As a writer, suddenly the images of Arwen and Aragon flashed into my head. I realized where Tolkein must have gotten some of his breathtaking imagery. His iconic settings were likely inspired from the lush English countryside and historic events like the one I observed today.

And books are certainly hyacinths for the soul.

In times where beauty can be rare and where many suffer, hyacinths are more important than ever. Yes, the wedding was expensive; so was our presidential inauguration. There are other expensive and controversial pursuits, such as space missions, the world-wide maintenance of historical sites and museums, and the Olympics. I believe all of these are hyacinths. They are examples of humans at their very best.

But perhaps more importantly, they give us hope that there will be a future for humanity, one filled with more hyacinths that we can possibly imagine.

Writers and Cats

I know it's a stereotype, but this site is so cute I couldn't help it. :-)

http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/

What’s Important

I read an article the other day in one of my fashion mags. Yes, a fashion mag. Like TV, they get no respect. But anyway, the article was about the author’s struggle for balance between personal achievement and personal relationships. She talked about Carol Joyce Oates, who recently wrote a book on grief after the death of her husband.

Oates states that having been published often and praised often did nothing to ease her loss. And how obtaining her heart's desire of having her work recognized was, in the end, not important. She uses Mark Twain, who lost a child, as an example. Would he have given up Huckleberry Finn for that child? No question, said Oates.

When I first started reading this article I thought to myself, well, easy enough for YOU to say, Carol. You’ve published, like, 50 books. I know she must be devastated losing her husband. But still. Then I kept on reading. The Mark Twain story got me. I think it was the exchange part of it.

Which forced me to realize that every time you choose to pursue an individual goal, you sacrifice time with others. With loved ones. With your special partner. I’m not saying I think lovers, family members, and friends should be glued to each other at all times. But the book for a child touched me deeply.

At this point in my life I want Big Recognition for my books. But…at other times I have wanted different things. I’m sure years hence I will want something else. What has stayed the same is my connection to those I love. And although I haven’t known my husband all my life, I cannot imagine life without him now.

When I did counseling work I sometimes asked people and groups what they would want on their tombstone. This exercise often provided great clarity. For me, too. Would I like Famous Author on mine? Sure. But if I could only have one phrase, I’d rather have Kelly, beloved of Gary.

I’d trade any book for him.

Slogging Along

I’m in the middle of my new book, Bittersweet. Actually, I'm past the middle, but it feels like the middle. My character is on her way to completing her quest. I know what the ending is. But Something Else Needs To Happen. I don’t know what this Something is. This happens with every book. But it will work out. It always does.

Yet...

What if this book is the one I can’t figure out? What if this time there is no Something Else? Or what if I’ve lost it and will NEVER be able to figure out what any book needs????

Sigh.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite poems, Half Way Down The Stairs by A. A. Milne. I love this poem because it seems to celebrate outwardly doing nothing yet thinking quite a bit.

Kinda where I am right now.

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where I sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere
It's somewhere else
Instead.

Book Review

I just finished reading Changing Planes by Ursula LeGuin, another favorite author. I should say re-read, because I’d read it a number of years ago, given it to my sister, who just returned it.

LeGuin is probably most famous for her Earthsea books, which I also loved. They were made into one of those made for TV movies. I didn’t like it. They changed the story a lot, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, in my opinion. This time I didn’t think it did, mostly because those dreamy books were turned into an action movie. The author was not pleased because whoever did the changing also tried to make the trilogy into some kind of Religious Statement, which she did not intend.

I understand her anger. But I can see why someone reading Earthsea might have come up with his or her own interpretation, wrong as it was.

LeGuin has a way of poking gentle, and often not so gentle, fun at modern beliefs, practices, and social norms. Changing Planes is no exception. The premise is if you are in an airport and you focus hard enough, you can change planes. Planes as in planes of existence. But only in airports, because it takes boredom, bad treatment, and horrible food to produce the correct mental state. That right there is hilarious, and one of those not so gentle statements.

The stories occurring in alternate dimensions are even more so: a plane catering to American holidays run by captive natives, another where genetic programs have produced people who can’t sleep, a kingdom where those who are different are killed, an island of very sad immortals...all of these destinations pointed to situations in our own world, even if the author had no intention of doing so.

LeGuin’s pieces are, at the very least, philosophical fantasy. I understand why she wouldn’t like her prose “explained”, especially by a TV producer. On the other hand, to have someone take something away from my work, even if it wasn’t intended, I think is pretty cool. In fact, I would love it if two different people got completely different meanings from a story I had written.

But that’s just me…in my own private plane of existence.