With some help from my editor father, I have a good draft of my bio for the Catalan edition of my book. If anyone can weigh in, I would be very grateful for feedback. Remember that the audience is Catalan-speaking and, obviously, is children.
Virginia Zimmerman is an American who loves Catalunya. She married into a Catalan family and spends as much time as possible in and around Barcelona. Her favorite place in the whole world is Sa Tuna on the Costa Brava. She currently lives in Lewisburg, a small town in Pennsylvania.
She and her husband have three children, who got to attend a Catalan school in Barcelona for several months, an experience that the whole family found wonderfully enriching. They are the only family in Lewisburg who speak any Catalan, and they like to use it as a secret language whenever they need one.
Virginia has been fascinated by literature since she began reading, and now she both writes it and teaches it at the university level. She believes that reading is the best way to become a writer — or, for that matter, a person.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Author Biographies
I've been asked to write my biography for the book jacket of the Catalan edition of my novel, A Sketch in Time. This has prompted me to think about what I want out of the biographies of authors when I read their books, and the truth is that I don't read the bios to learn more about the authors. I usually read them because I've come to the end of the story, and I want more. I'm so desperate for more that I read every printed word in the book, including the copyright page and the tiny print that identifies the font in which the text is printed. The most satisfying bios are the ones that feel like they add to the story in some way.
Perhaps the bio offers a glimpse of the creative mind that generated the book, or perhaps it reveals that the author, in some way, really inhabits the book's secondary world. Maybe it makes me believe in the story in a new way. Maybe it's just a few more words written in a voice that's become familiar.
What do you like to see in an author bio?
Perhaps the bio offers a glimpse of the creative mind that generated the book, or perhaps it reveals that the author, in some way, really inhabits the book's secondary world. Maybe it makes me believe in the story in a new way. Maybe it's just a few more words written in a voice that's become familiar.
What do you like to see in an author bio?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Micah's Bookshelf
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about carrying my main character, Micah, around with me. I haven't been doing as much of this as I would like partly because Micah is 11 and a lot of my life wouldn't interest him at all: "What would Micah think of my department meeting?" is not a terribly interesting question. But I have been trying, and I do think the experiment is working. Though I have had very little time to write, Micah feels present to me, and, when time permits, I'm ready to bring him to life on the page.
In October, I had a wonderful opportunity to read from my novel to a group of colleagues. I enjoyed this very much and was struck afterwards by the fact that I will never read from this book for the first time again. I didn't know where they would laugh, for instance, and now I do.
I especially enjoyed the Q&A that followed the reading, and one friend asked a really wonderful question about how much what the characters have read might help them. We talked in particular about A Wrinkle in Time: if Micah has read L'Engle, does he then use this text to help him navigate the confusing layers of time travel in his own life?
I've been thinking about this question off and on since the reading. It's a question that challenges the line between author and character in that Micah can't have read in a meaningful way anything I have not read. I can put books on his shelf (or his bed, where Micah actually keeps his most special books) that I have not read myself, but I can't put those books in his world view.
Conversely, one could argue that every book I have read informed the crafting of my own book, but many of the books I have read would not interest Micah. Bright though he is, I know that he has not read Middlemarch. Once in an earnest mood he tried Oliver Twist, but he didn't get past the first sentence. These books may have helped me shape my fictional world, but it doesn't follow that they help Micah shape his real world.
This is all a long way of saying that I still don't know what Micah has read. I do know that he likes to organize his books and even built his own bookshelf out of a box that formerly held one of Celia's dolls. So, for now, I can't really build the contents of Micah's bookshelf into his character and his problem-solving skills, but I can write with confidence that the fact of the bookshelf and the organization it represents tells us quite a bit about who Micah is.
Sitting here now in my office, Micah likes how I have this semester's books on a special shelf at my side, and he loves how I put each book back in its regular place when I've finished with it. He might notice that A Wrinkle in Time is already back with the children's fiction, and if he were really here, I think he might pull it off the shelf, and I'm sure he would get well past the first sentence.
In October, I had a wonderful opportunity to read from my novel to a group of colleagues. I enjoyed this very much and was struck afterwards by the fact that I will never read from this book for the first time again. I didn't know where they would laugh, for instance, and now I do.
I especially enjoyed the Q&A that followed the reading, and one friend asked a really wonderful question about how much what the characters have read might help them. We talked in particular about A Wrinkle in Time: if Micah has read L'Engle, does he then use this text to help him navigate the confusing layers of time travel in his own life?
I've been thinking about this question off and on since the reading. It's a question that challenges the line between author and character in that Micah can't have read in a meaningful way anything I have not read. I can put books on his shelf (or his bed, where Micah actually keeps his most special books) that I have not read myself, but I can't put those books in his world view.
Conversely, one could argue that every book I have read informed the crafting of my own book, but many of the books I have read would not interest Micah. Bright though he is, I know that he has not read Middlemarch. Once in an earnest mood he tried Oliver Twist, but he didn't get past the first sentence. These books may have helped me shape my fictional world, but it doesn't follow that they help Micah shape his real world.
This is all a long way of saying that I still don't know what Micah has read. I do know that he likes to organize his books and even built his own bookshelf out of a box that formerly held one of Celia's dolls. So, for now, I can't really build the contents of Micah's bookshelf into his character and his problem-solving skills, but I can write with confidence that the fact of the bookshelf and the organization it represents tells us quite a bit about who Micah is.
Sitting here now in my office, Micah likes how I have this semester's books on a special shelf at my side, and he loves how I put each book back in its regular place when I've finished with it. He might notice that A Wrinkle in Time is already back with the children's fiction, and if he were really here, I think he might pull it off the shelf, and I'm sure he would get well past the first sentence.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Enchanted Woods
Yesterday, I had occasion to talk with my students about a wonderful short essay "On Three Ways of Writing for Children" by C.S. Lewis. I love many things about this piece. For one thing, Lewis argues against critics of fantasy, writing that if children must face troubles in their lives, let them at least be armed with tales of heroes: "Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker" (216). I agree with this claim for fantasy's use, and it makes books feel important. A fantastical adventure is not an escape; rather, it is a lesson and an inspiration.
The part of the essay that always gives me chills, though, is this:
It would be much truer to say that fairyland arouses a longing for he knows not what. It stirs and troubles him (to his lifelong enrichment) with the dim sense of something beyond his reach and, far from dulling or emptying the actual world, gives it a new dimension of depth. He does not despise real woods because he has read of enchanted woods: the reading makes all real woods a little enchanted. (214)
That literature has the power to make magic in the real world, even in the most mundane places, like wardrobes, is extraordinary. Lewis understood this, and I think children understand it.
I suppose it is my task in my Young Adult Fiction class and on this blog to help adults remember this magic. Or maybe many grown ups do remember but need permission to look into their wardrobes for other worlds, and softly, under their breaths, to whisper "Accio!" and to hope that it will summon something. And to recognize that the charm summons magic even when it doesn't work, because we had enough faith to give it a try. In that longing lies the enchantment Lewis describes.
The part of the essay that always gives me chills, though, is this:
It would be much truer to say that fairyland arouses a longing for he knows not what. It stirs and troubles him (to his lifelong enrichment) with the dim sense of something beyond his reach and, far from dulling or emptying the actual world, gives it a new dimension of depth. He does not despise real woods because he has read of enchanted woods: the reading makes all real woods a little enchanted. (214)
That literature has the power to make magic in the real world, even in the most mundane places, like wardrobes, is extraordinary. Lewis understood this, and I think children understand it.
I suppose it is my task in my Young Adult Fiction class and on this blog to help adults remember this magic. Or maybe many grown ups do remember but need permission to look into their wardrobes for other worlds, and softly, under their breaths, to whisper "Accio!" and to hope that it will summon something. And to recognize that the charm summons magic even when it doesn't work, because we had enough faith to give it a try. In that longing lies the enchantment Lewis describes.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Time Conundrum
My critique group had its second meeting this past weekend, and, in addition to some great discussion of our work, we also bemoaned the great time conundrum. With jobs and families and life stuff--both ordinary and extraordinary, how on earth does a person find time to write?
I wrote my first novel in fits and starts, a few pages at a time, over five years, and it feels disjointed and jagged. My fractured time led to a fractured novel. I wrote my second novel while on sabbatical over a glorious period of about six weeks during which time nothing else demanded my attention between 9 am and 5 pm. It was luxurious and rare. This novel coheres.
I won't have such time again anytime soon, and most people never have it. So, how does one write a cohesive novel without cohesive time?
People have different strategies to keep themselves writing. Some are length based: two sentences per day or one page per day. Some are time based: fifteen minutes per day or before the kids get up. Others are incentive systems: chocolate comes at the end of a writing session. Others are community based: I tell you how much I will accomplish, and you tell me you much you will accomplish, and we hold each other accountable. These are all good systems, but none of them address the cohesion issue.
I can find a few minutes per day to write, but in that fragmented work model, I lose my rhythm, and then my book feels out of sync with itself. I need to find a way to maintain my groove when I'm not writing.
So here is a new strategy I am launching today: I will continue to grab at time to write, but when I'm not writing, I will carry my main character around with me. I will think about the challenges he faces in my fictional world, and I will also imagine how he would respond to the real world situations I move through. For example, when I walk into my classroom, I will ask myself, "Where would Micah sit? What would he think of today's reading?" When I go to the grocery store, I will think about what Micah would want to buy. My hope is that taking Micah with me in my real life will make it easier to get in touch with him when I sit down to write--I will never have been out of touch--and I may even discover scenarios that I want to work into my novel.
I will report back next week. For my first exercise, I ask myself what Micah thinks of this blog post. Turns out that he doesn't get blogs at all. Doesn't see the point. And so my character develops.
I wrote my first novel in fits and starts, a few pages at a time, over five years, and it feels disjointed and jagged. My fractured time led to a fractured novel. I wrote my second novel while on sabbatical over a glorious period of about six weeks during which time nothing else demanded my attention between 9 am and 5 pm. It was luxurious and rare. This novel coheres.
I won't have such time again anytime soon, and most people never have it. So, how does one write a cohesive novel without cohesive time?
People have different strategies to keep themselves writing. Some are length based: two sentences per day or one page per day. Some are time based: fifteen minutes per day or before the kids get up. Others are incentive systems: chocolate comes at the end of a writing session. Others are community based: I tell you how much I will accomplish, and you tell me you much you will accomplish, and we hold each other accountable. These are all good systems, but none of them address the cohesion issue.
I can find a few minutes per day to write, but in that fragmented work model, I lose my rhythm, and then my book feels out of sync with itself. I need to find a way to maintain my groove when I'm not writing.
So here is a new strategy I am launching today: I will continue to grab at time to write, but when I'm not writing, I will carry my main character around with me. I will think about the challenges he faces in my fictional world, and I will also imagine how he would respond to the real world situations I move through. For example, when I walk into my classroom, I will ask myself, "Where would Micah sit? What would he think of today's reading?" When I go to the grocery store, I will think about what Micah would want to buy. My hope is that taking Micah with me in my real life will make it easier to get in touch with him when I sit down to write--I will never have been out of touch--and I may even discover scenarios that I want to work into my novel.
I will report back next week. For my first exercise, I ask myself what Micah thinks of this blog post. Turns out that he doesn't get blogs at all. Doesn't see the point. And so my character develops.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Platform, Platform, Platform
I read a lot of kid lit blogs, including many that feature interviews with industry professionals of all sorts. One of the most common questions in these interviews is some variation on this theme: how important is it for writers to develop an online platform? In this usage, "platform" describes having an online presence via the full range of social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc.). Most of the writers who appear on these blogs or maintain them by definition have said platform. However, agents and editors answer the question in radically different ways: some say platform is essential to getting published and then selling books; others don't really value platform and reply that writers should spend their time writing.
I've always liked the second answer, partly because I'd rather spend my time writing and partly because I find daunting the prospect of developing an active online presence for myself as a fiction writer. Yet, I've noticed that more and more of these industry professionals are extolling the value of platform, some with great enthusiasm, others only grudgingly. Like it or not, we writers need to be available online for others in the industry and for our readers. The theory is that without the platform there will never be any readers.
If book signings and school visits were once the way many children's authors spread the word about their books, then virtual versions of those events can only spread the word to a wider audience. Moreover, no one's going to invite me for a school visit until my book has been published, but I can blog about my book right now. Maybe a handful of people follow my blog. They like what they read. They tell some friends or ping back. More people read my blog. Suddenly, there is a community following my book before it's even available to read. This is a good thing, I think.
So, I do think writers should spend their time writing, but hanging out online building a platform can't hurt, might help, and, at the very least, is more social than writing, which is so very solitary. Thus, I plan to make this blog more active. As a platform, it's been a piece of particle board that I left out in the yard through a few rain storms, but I'll toss some cinder blocks under it, reinforce the wood, and see what happens.
I've always liked the second answer, partly because I'd rather spend my time writing and partly because I find daunting the prospect of developing an active online presence for myself as a fiction writer. Yet, I've noticed that more and more of these industry professionals are extolling the value of platform, some with great enthusiasm, others only grudgingly. Like it or not, we writers need to be available online for others in the industry and for our readers. The theory is that without the platform there will never be any readers.
If book signings and school visits were once the way many children's authors spread the word about their books, then virtual versions of those events can only spread the word to a wider audience. Moreover, no one's going to invite me for a school visit until my book has been published, but I can blog about my book right now. Maybe a handful of people follow my blog. They like what they read. They tell some friends or ping back. More people read my blog. Suddenly, there is a community following my book before it's even available to read. This is a good thing, I think.
So, I do think writers should spend their time writing, but hanging out online building a platform can't hurt, might help, and, at the very least, is more social than writing, which is so very solitary. Thus, I plan to make this blog more active. As a platform, it's been a piece of particle board that I left out in the yard through a few rain storms, but I'll toss some cinder blocks under it, reinforce the wood, and see what happens.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Good News!
I am happy to share the wonderful news that my middle-grade novel, A Sketch in Time, will be published in Catalan in May 2012 by Cruilla, a wonderful children's publisher in Barcelona.
I am grateful for the support of my family (whose voices and experiences helped shape the novel), my friends (many of whom read early versions of the novel and offered valuable feedback), Nuria (who requires far more thanks than I can put here in parentheses), my team of agents, and the city of Barcelona for inspiration.
I'll write more about the process and the particulars when I feel less giddy, if I ever do!
I am grateful for the support of my family (whose voices and experiences helped shape the novel), my friends (many of whom read early versions of the novel and offered valuable feedback), Nuria (who requires far more thanks than I can put here in parentheses), my team of agents, and the city of Barcelona for inspiration.
I'll write more about the process and the particulars when I feel less giddy, if I ever do!
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