I often joke that I have no original thoughts in my little head, which is why I quote movies constantly. Being such a cinephile makes me quite popular with fellow Gen X dudes at parties and stuff, because I can quote Swingers, Stripes and Goodfellas with the best of ‘em. Oh, you think I’m funny? How’m I funny? What am I, like some kind of clown? What am I here to amuse you?
See!
Which got me thinking about poor Kaavya Viswanathan. I never thought the Opal Mehta book sounded interesting or original enough to fetch a half a million-dollar advance in the first place. And, of course, turns out it wasn’t original at all. But I also don’t think we need to criminalize the girl. So, here’s my thing about that…
Just like I watch certain movies over and over multiple times, Kaavya apparently liked to read certain “Chick-Lit” novels over and over. I have no doubt that she unintentionally wrote passages in her novel that were similar to the ones she had read repeatedly as a teen. UNINTENTIONALLY.
Our subconscious mind does strange things. I mean, sometimes I’ll be telling a story, and I’ll be like, “This one time…at band camp…” Then I stop. Wait. Did that really happen to me or did I see that in a movie? It happens. And I really doubt if a brilliant Harvard undergrad would have the bad sense to intentionally plagiarize some very popular teen chick lit novels.
And now some people are pushing for Harvard to kick the girl out! For what? Having such a full brain that she can’t remember which are her original thoughts and which are from favorite novels? Geez…give the girl a break!
Now, Jay will probably say that after defending James Frey and now Miss Viswanathan, my ethics are in question and I should re-think my dream of becoming an author. But I don't care. C’mon. You know I’ve been training to be a cage fighter anyway.
--Eve
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
Steak on Monday, Fish on Tuesday—Robin
I’ve been feeling a little fickle lately with my writing…unable to decide which type of writing I enjoy the most. I’ve completed a funny middle grade novel, a serious picture book about a Robin bird and an ostrich (go ahead, you can say it), a zany early reader mystery and have recently found myself completely entrenched in writing a YA about an angry protagonist with an attitude problem.
To me, this problem is kind of like answering the question, “What’s your favorite food?” My answer is “steak.” But I say that only because it’s Monday—the day my non-red meat eating husband works late and I’m actually able to eat red meat in the house. If today were Tuesday, I’d say my favorite food is fish since my non-red meat eating husband would be home for dinner and I’d want to impress him. My favorite food seems to change daily (around my husband’s schedule).
And so does my favorite kind of writing (not around my husband’s schedule). Unless it’s Friday night, when he offers to watch our son so I can go out to dinner with a friend. And this past Friday night, Eve and I sat down to a lovely dinner to discuss my fickle writing problem.
After the first pomegranate martini (with smoke billowing from the top, strangely enough) I told Eve my NEW idea: creative non-fiction!
“Wow, that’s…interesting,” Eve said with a big, lovely smile. “Waitress, another martini!”
I told her all about my idea and justified all the research it would take and created a timeline for getting the project done and determined my target audience. I was committed!
Now, after the SECOND smoke billowing pomegranate martini I changed the project a little bit. “Wait! Instead of non-fiction, what if I make it a fantasy about an orphaned boy who goes to a school for wizards and he and his little English friends share a pair of pants that magically fits all of them!”
“Wow, that’s…interesting,” Eve said with a big, lovely smile. “Waitress, another martini!”
Honestly, I get a little frustrated with my schizophrenic writer’s mind, but then I remind myself that ribeyes are really only tasty on Mondays.
Tomorrow it’s salmon and writing edgy science fiction historical picture books. Tuesday, here I come!
--Robin
To me, this problem is kind of like answering the question, “What’s your favorite food?” My answer is “steak.” But I say that only because it’s Monday—the day my non-red meat eating husband works late and I’m actually able to eat red meat in the house. If today were Tuesday, I’d say my favorite food is fish since my non-red meat eating husband would be home for dinner and I’d want to impress him. My favorite food seems to change daily (around my husband’s schedule).
And so does my favorite kind of writing (not around my husband’s schedule). Unless it’s Friday night, when he offers to watch our son so I can go out to dinner with a friend. And this past Friday night, Eve and I sat down to a lovely dinner to discuss my fickle writing problem.
After the first pomegranate martini (with smoke billowing from the top, strangely enough) I told Eve my NEW idea: creative non-fiction!
“Wow, that’s…interesting,” Eve said with a big, lovely smile. “Waitress, another martini!”
I told her all about my idea and justified all the research it would take and created a timeline for getting the project done and determined my target audience. I was committed!
Now, after the SECOND smoke billowing pomegranate martini I changed the project a little bit. “Wait! Instead of non-fiction, what if I make it a fantasy about an orphaned boy who goes to a school for wizards and he and his little English friends share a pair of pants that magically fits all of them!”
“Wow, that’s…interesting,” Eve said with a big, lovely smile. “Waitress, another martini!”
Honestly, I get a little frustrated with my schizophrenic writer’s mind, but then I remind myself that ribeyes are really only tasty on Mondays.
Tomorrow it’s salmon and writing edgy science fiction historical picture books. Tuesday, here I come!
--Robin
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Rubber Chicken for Good Luck -- Jay
What a weird week! I was going to post one bit of exciting news, and then another bit of exciting news came my way. Let’s begin with D.L. Garfinkle. Debby wrote an awesome book called Storky: How I Lost My Nickname and Won the Girl. When I read it, I sent her a fan e-mail because it had been a long time since I’d read such a funny book capturing the awkwardness of growing up male.
Since then, Debby and I have continued corresponding. She was working on the proposal for a chapter book series but was new to writing for that age. I told her that I dabbled in that genre and if she wanted me to look at it, I would. So I critiqued her manuscript and she wound up selling it earlier this week with a six book contract. While I assume Debby could have sold The Supernatural Rubber Chicken series without me (though she’s allowed to debunk that theory if I’m wrong!), it still feels wonderful to play an itsy-bitsy role in bringing something to children that they’re going to love while I wait for my own books to get published.
Which brings me to my next bit of exciting...or at least, hopeful...news. Last August, at the SCBWI National Conference, David Steinberg introduced me to his Grosset & Dunlap editor. She was searching for a new humorous boy series and I told her I’d written the first book in just such a series called Lucky Me! So I mailed it to her…and then a few months went by and I mailed a follow-up letter...and then a few months later (yesterday) I got an e-mail. Does this editor want to buy my series? YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! Actually, not really...but it looked awesome all typed out like that. But she liked it a lot, and it might be something she’s interested in, but she had a suggestion on how to make it even better and wants me to resubmit it if I make that change. Which...guess what...I’m gonna do!!!
Maybe I’ll even ask Debby to critique it.
- Jay
Since then, Debby and I have continued corresponding. She was working on the proposal for a chapter book series but was new to writing for that age. I told her that I dabbled in that genre and if she wanted me to look at it, I would. So I critiqued her manuscript and she wound up selling it earlier this week with a six book contract. While I assume Debby could have sold The Supernatural Rubber Chicken series without me (though she’s allowed to debunk that theory if I’m wrong!), it still feels wonderful to play an itsy-bitsy role in bringing something to children that they’re going to love while I wait for my own books to get published.
Which brings me to my next bit of exciting...or at least, hopeful...news. Last August, at the SCBWI National Conference, David Steinberg introduced me to his Grosset & Dunlap editor. She was searching for a new humorous boy series and I told her I’d written the first book in just such a series called Lucky Me! So I mailed it to her…and then a few months went by and I mailed a follow-up letter...and then a few months later (yesterday) I got an e-mail. Does this editor want to buy my series? YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! Actually, not really...but it looked awesome all typed out like that. But she liked it a lot, and it might be something she’s interested in, but she had a suggestion on how to make it even better and wants me to resubmit it if I make that change. Which...guess what...I’m gonna do!!!
Maybe I’ll even ask Debby to critique it.
- Jay
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Step Away From the Editor -- Eve
Two years ago at the L.A. Conference I heard a fantastic editor speak. He was funny, concise, professional and looking for funny boy-books. Perfect! So when I saw Mr. Editor at the conference last year, I figured I’d chat with him. He had seemed nice enough.
I saw him at the hotel pool. I went over and said, “Hello.” He ignored me. Later that day I saw him just before he was going to speak at a breakout session I was heading to. I asked him if he still took “eight sentence query letters via e-mail” like he had said last year. His face turned red and he walked away. Hmm...
During the breakout session he announced his topic. “Conference Etiquette: How NOT to Approach an Editor” Hmm... He looked me straight in the eye (of course I sat front and center). He passed out a list.
1. Never approach an editor during his “downtime.” (Translation: When he’s sunning at the pool.)
2. Never talk to an editor just before he’s about to give a speech. (M’kay.)
3. Never follow an editor to the bathroom and slip your lame-ass manuscript under the stall while he’s doing his business. (Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one.)
So the lesson I learned and am passing on to any of you out there clueless enough to do as I did, is this...Umm, what lesson did I learn? Oh yeah. That’s not the end of the story. Late one night while I was in the hotel bar with Jay (NOT drinking Mojitos, but only milk so we could wake up super early, NOT hung-over, and make it to all the sessions like good little writers), I saw Mr. Editor. He sat and chatted with a few dudes I knew (NOT young, cute, 20-something dudes I had flirted with earlier). One of the dudes told me it would be a good idea to send Mr. Editor a martini. M’kay.
The short of it is...I sent him a pink martini, he came over and thanked me, and apologized for being so rude earlier. Apparently, he suffers from “stage fright” and was so nervous before his speech he couldn’t bear to talk to anyone.
Lesson: If you do annoy an editor at the conference, send him a pink drink when you see him at the bar. Oh, and flirting with cute 20-something dudes doesn’t hurt; somehow it will always work in your favor!
- Eve
I saw him at the hotel pool. I went over and said, “Hello.” He ignored me. Later that day I saw him just before he was going to speak at a breakout session I was heading to. I asked him if he still took “eight sentence query letters via e-mail” like he had said last year. His face turned red and he walked away. Hmm...
During the breakout session he announced his topic. “Conference Etiquette: How NOT to Approach an Editor” Hmm... He looked me straight in the eye (of course I sat front and center). He passed out a list.
1. Never approach an editor during his “downtime.” (Translation: When he’s sunning at the pool.)
2. Never talk to an editor just before he’s about to give a speech. (M’kay.)
3. Never follow an editor to the bathroom and slip your lame-ass manuscript under the stall while he’s doing his business. (Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one.)
So the lesson I learned and am passing on to any of you out there clueless enough to do as I did, is this...Umm, what lesson did I learn? Oh yeah. That’s not the end of the story. Late one night while I was in the hotel bar with Jay (NOT drinking Mojitos, but only milk so we could wake up super early, NOT hung-over, and make it to all the sessions like good little writers), I saw Mr. Editor. He sat and chatted with a few dudes I knew (NOT young, cute, 20-something dudes I had flirted with earlier). One of the dudes told me it would be a good idea to send Mr. Editor a martini. M’kay.
The short of it is...I sent him a pink martini, he came over and thanked me, and apologized for being so rude earlier. Apparently, he suffers from “stage fright” and was so nervous before his speech he couldn’t bear to talk to anyone.
Lesson: If you do annoy an editor at the conference, send him a pink drink when you see him at the bar. Oh, and flirting with cute 20-something dudes doesn’t hurt; somehow it will always work in your favor!
- Eve
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
The diCamillo Code
fromThe Miraculous Journey of Edwardy Tulane
by Kate diCamillo
While we're busy cracking The dePaola Code, if anyone feels like searching for clues in the works of Kate diCamillo, feel free to take over The diCamillo Code.
We've tried, but we're having a hard time finding any religious symbolism in her stories.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
The dePaola Code: Strega
Strega Nona, upon first glance, seems like a typical tale about greed. But this is The dePaola Code...where nothing is as it seems. Strega owns a cooking pot that can make pasta appear out of thin air. She warns Big Anthony never to touch her pot, but does he listen? Noooooooo. And once Mr. Big gets the noodles going, he can’t figure out how to stop them. The town is soon engulfed by noodles (which might not sound that bad, but everyone in this town is watching their carbs).
So what metaphor has Mr. dePaola hidden within his most cherished picturebook? We call it: Strega Nona’s Overpopulation Prophecy.
Three animals play key roles in this story. A rabbit, a peacock, and a goat. And there’s only one scene where all three animals meet with Strega, Anthony, and the pot. Which means this scene overflows with Code material.
As Strega warns Anthony about touching her pot, standing behind Tony are the rabbit and the peacock--common symbols of fertility. Throughout the rest of the book, as the pot continues to produce pasta, the rabbit and peacock appear.
Sitting between Strega and Anthony, as a sort of buffer between the two, is a goat--a popular symbol for the devil. The devil, of course, is the source of Anthony’s disobedience and greed (for a list of six additional deadly sins, look them up yourself…we’re too lazy). But unlike the fertile peacock and the fuzzy widdle wabbit, once Anthony disobeys, the goat is never seen again. Why? Because his job is done.
Okay, so we have two symbols of fertility (because you might overlook just one) and a symbol for the devil. Stop! We know what you’re thinking. The overpopulation metaphor only works if the pot producing the pasta is a symbol for the human race. Good! You’re catching on. Strega refers to her cooking container as a “pot of clay.” And what does the Bible use as a metaphor for humans? Right. Jars of clay! So a big jar (the pot) represents all of us. And Strega’s chant which stops the overproduction of noodles can likewise be seen as instructions to control our own overpopulation. “So simmer down my pot of clay.”
In the end, what advice does Tomie appear to offer to help us stabilize the world’s population? It’s rather simple. “Keep your noodles under control!”
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