That would be excellent

         




I've been a very bad blogger this year, mainly because of this, of course. But G's treatments are now done, and we're working toward getting our life back to our "new normal." But first, we're moving apartments this week and packing is exhausting!

As always happens, while packing I've been finding forgotten things, like this letter Grace had sent me back when we were both seniors in high school. I had brought this with me from my parents' house in California a while back because I wanted to quote some of the letter in a talk I was giving, I think.

In it, we talked about boys, of course. I had asked her to send me a boyfriend, so she sent me this guy:

Cute, huh? She named him Roger.

And here are a few snippets from the letter:

"I'm going to illustrate children's books, y'know. That would be so cool. One day when we're all grown up, you'll see in a book store: Illustrated by Grace P. Lin. That would be excellent."

and:

"I wish I could show you my portfolio. Then you could tell me if you think I'm talented. Or then you could lie to me and tell me you think I'm the bestest artist in the world and of course I will make it into RISD."

I wonder if Grace has the letter I wrote back to her. But I'm sure I said something like:

I think you're talented, Grace! You are the bestest artist in the world, you will make it into RISD, and you will become a famous children's book author and illustrator.

See, I can predict the future!

**edited to add**
For those of you who don't know the story of how Grace and I met, you can read more about it here.

from the BRG archives: blah, blah, blurbs

Last year, I was asked to write a blurb for the upcoming book Kimchi and Calamari, by Rose Kent (which is a really nice book, by the way). I agreed. However, recently after perusing Amazon and looking at the images, I think my quote was not used.

Now, I am NOT upset in any way, shape or form that it wasn’t used. In fact, I am pretty relieved. I had never written a blurb before, so I tried to “sparkle”; and whenever I try to do that my writing comes off really fake. I realize now I should’ve just written an honest line about how nice I thought the book was instead of trying to be some kind of marketing soundbite. Oh well.

I think the reason why I overreached was because I was so flattered to be asked. Famous people give blurbs! It’s their name that helps sell the book, right? But in the case of Kimchi and Calamari, I couldn’t imagine how having my name on the cover would help it, except perhaps as an additional, unnecessary curiosity factor. I imagine the conversation would go something like this:

“Look, this person Grace Lin liked the book.”
“Grace Lin? Who’s that?”
“Um, wasn’t she on one of those reality shows?”
“No, I think she’s an actress on that sci fi show, Battlestar Galactica.”
“Gee, I wonder if this book is about aliens eating human food, then.”
“Maybe, are you gonna get it?”
“Naw, I hate that spaceship stuff.”

But, regardless of my blurb-writing shortcomings and pitfalls, it is the idea of the blurb that I find fascinating. Do these one to two line quotations REALLY make a difference? Do they push a browser over the edge to actually buy the book? Or does the difference come in the judgement of the book? Do these blurbs bias the readers mind, filling them with preconceived notions? Does it elevate the book to a certain stature if Famous Person A endorses it? But book people are smarter than the average George Foreman grill buying public, aren’t they? They don’t need a big name to validate their purchase or opinions. They can choose their own books without a celebrity sanction, I’m sure. Right? Right?

I ask this as I shove my George Foreman grill into the closet.

Originally posted January 24th, 2007

from the BRG archives: down to the cupcake level

This is an attempted group photo we blue rose girls tried to take of ourselves this weekend. The goal was to "take a picture with all of us and the cupcakes."

I made the cupcakes. Before I made them, I had grandiose schemes of piping professional-looking blue roses, awing everyone with my culinary expertise. However, as I began the attempt, I realized frosting roses were beyond my capabilities so down-graded to simple blue flowers. Yet, even trying to create the "simple" flowers was a challenge--the frosting was too soft, my kitchen too warm, my control was shaky and my time was limited. I remember being distinctly disapointed, feeling that my blue flowers resembled ameoba-like blue octopi. Yet, when I brought them to our blue rose girls weekend, it seemed as if everyone loved them and even I had to admit they were delicious. So, in the end, a nice warm sense of pride filled me.

And I realized, that is the epitome of my creative process. I always begin with dreams of creating a literary masterpiece; and, when faced by my own limitations, realize I can only do the best of my ability, which always seems to falls short. However, despite its flaws, it still finds ways of pleasing its audience; and even I appreciate what I've accomplished. And, in the end, I am proud of my creation.

But this weekend I realized one more thing. Perhaps all those imperfections are not flaws. Perhaps, like our failed, imperfect group photo, those are the things that make me love it even more.

Originally published September 25th, 2006

from the BRG archives: making literature, making a living

More often then not, when I'm introduced at a book event I'm described as a prolific author/illustrator. While it is usually meant as complimentary (at least I hope so) I always wince a little inside. Just because a person (especially someone in the creative field) creates many works doesn't necessarily mean they are any good.

Of course, I am extremely grateful that I have been able to be so prolific. But the truth is, I have to be. I depend on it. If I don’t produce, I quickly drown--mortgage, health insurance, medical bills, groceries-- everything breaks through the rickety dam of my paying books.

Which is probably why I was so affected by Linda Sue Park’s speech about creating your best work . I didn’t go into children’s books for the money (who does?); and it goes without saying that I want everything that I do and publish to be the absolute best of my ability. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that sometimes my creative juices flow out of desperation for the cold hard cash, that compromises are made to get contracts, and sometimes work is rushed when bills are waiting.

To be able to make a living in children’s books is a gift, but one that is dearly paid for. And is compromising quality one of the unavoidable taxes? That is the question I struggle with when the projects are over and the bills have been paid. Could I have done it better? Should I have done it better? Was it my very best?

The answer is always yes and no. Everything I’ve done probably could’ve been done better. But it was the very best I could do at that time. And while that’s not quite satisfactory, it’s enough to make me try again with another book.

Originally published January 13th, 2007

from the BRG archives: rate of consumption

Recently, at a school visit, a young student rushed up to me and said, “I read The Year of the Dog in 2 hours!”
“That’s wonderful,” I said to her, but inside I felt a strange sense of shock. Gosh, that book took me over 4 years to write, but now takes only two hours to read. The rate of consumption is a lot faster than production!

I suppose the surprise was greater because I am knee-deep in my revisions for novel #2. I’m on my 5th revision, which actually doesn’t sound that bad. But it’s the 5th “official” one, which means it’s the 5th time I’ve gone through it with my editor…the times that I’ve gone through it with myself is about, oh, I don’t know, 133?

The hardest part about working on something for 133 times is that when I get to around revision 131, I start thinking, “Oh, this will be fine. As long as it makes sense, no one will care…just get it done.” But there’s always that other part, the side that wants to get every word is right, that makes me stay up until 5 in the morning and haunts me when I try to concentrate on other things, that pushes me to revision 132.

And I think all authors are like that. Because we want those two hours of reading to be the best we can possibly make them.

Originally published October 16, 2006

Book Flavors: Leo Landry

Author/Illustrator: Leo Landry
Book: Space Boy

Book Flavors: Scott Magoon

Illustrator: Scott Magoon
Book: Luck of the Loch Ness Monster

from the BRG archives: this or the

In my current work, I’ve driven myself mad trying to make the colors brighter at the end of the book (when the girl is happy) than those at the beginning (when the girl is sad)--even though she is wearing the same red coat. It becomes an insane process as I struggle with whether to use jewel red or crimson…and probably when the book is printed, the color difference won’t even be noticeable.

But it’s these little things that we, as creators, can’t let go of. Mary Newell Depalma, when writing A Grand Old Tree, told me a story of how she got into an argument with her editor over a “this” or “the.”

“…the roots of her grandchildren sink deep into the earth,” her editor had marked.
“…sink into this earth,” she had marked back.
“THE earth,” he had replied.
“No, THIS earth,” she insisted.
“I can’t believe you’re being so difficult,” he said.

And I suppose we are a difficult bunch. Exacting, demanding and a bit crazy-- but the ones who really feel the brunt of this is ourselves. While we toil and labor at the subtle nuances, do others, in the end, even notice the difference between a “this” vs. a “the” or a jewel red vs. a crimson? Probably not.

And nor should they. Because that is what makes what we do so beautiful.

Originally published Aug. 7, 2006

Ling & Ting Receives 2011 Theodor Seuss Geisel Honor Award!

I listened to the ALA Youth Media Awards podcast earlier today. I was SOOOOOO happy when I heard that Grace had won a Theodor Seuss Geisel Honor Award for her first early reader—Ling and Ting: Not Exactly the Same!. Grace is way too modest to make the announcement on Blue Rose Girls—so I decided to do it myself. I’m one of Grace’s biggest fans and admirers.

From ALA: Theodor Seuss Geisel Award for the most distinguished beginning reader book “Bink and Gollie,” written by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee and illustrated by Tony Fucile is the 2011 Seuss Award winner. The book is published by Candlewick Press.

Two Geisel Honor Books were named: “Ling & Ting: Not Exactly the Same!” written and illustrated by Grace Lin and published by Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.; and “We Are in a Book!” written and illustrated by Mo Willems and published by Hyperion Books for Children, an imprint of Disney Book Group.

Congratulations, Grace!!!

Other Awards and Starred Reviews for Ling & Ting
•Junior Library Guild Selection
•starred Booklist review
•starred Kirkus review
•starred Horn Book review
•starred School Library Journal review
•NY Times Sunday Book Review
•2010 Kirkus Best Children's Books
•2010 Booklist Editor's Choice
•PW's Best of Books of 2010

Ling & Ting Book Trailer


Ling & Ting Paper Dolls

Ling & Ting Educator’s Guide

It's not an easy reader!

I was honored to be this month's guest blogger for TeachingBooks.net! Here's a snippet:

I admit I gave a little sigh of relief when I saw that my publisher classified my book Ling & Ting (Little Brown, 2010) as an early reader. So many times titles for this level are referred to as easy readers. I know I am biased, but to me there is nothing easy about a successful book for beginning readers...read the rest at the Teaching Books blog

deck the halls...

with birds of jolly!

With our past year's origami ornaments mysteriously missing (perhaps accidentally recycled!) I decided that the decorations of this year's tree should be a bit more durable. So when over the summer, Anna purchased these strings of birds:

I had my Christmas tree inspiration!

With a little internet research I found this lovely (and FREE) pattern from Spool and began to sew (by hand still because I am scared of my sewing machine). It made me quite happy. I used up leftover fabric from my computer case, wedding and old clothes--that bright red fabric with the white flower is from a 70's dress of my mother's!



I let Squatchie stuff the birds which is why they are so plump. I think some of them look like dolphins. But they still looked nice on the tree, don't you think?

fa la la la, la la la LA!

from the BRG archives: ranting on Amy

In Little Women, there is a scene where Amy, after seeing the great works of Europe, decides to give up her ambitions as an artist. Why, Laurie asks, “with so much energy and talent?”

“… because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so,” Amy responds, “ I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more.”

Alcott writes this in an approving tone; as if she is applauding Amy for having the maturity to give up on her dreams. Even as a child this bothered me. What was she trying to say? If you can’t achieve greatness, don’t even bother? That your efforts are merely wasted energy in the vortex of creative geniuses? That only the immature, vain and spoiled cling to their disparate talents?

I suppose this rankles a bit deeper in me now that I’ve become an author on the mid-list. Mid-list authors realize how elusive greatness is. Like the sky, no matter how high you climb, it is always above you.

Everyday I am humbled by the amazing works around me; and time and time again I’ve been forced to accept that there are achievements beyond my capabilities. But, still I refuse to accept that striving for it is childish hubris. Maybe it is true "that talent is not genius and no amount of energy will make it so"; but what is more noble than attempting to fulfill your potential? Is it better to waste the gifts you are given because you doubt what you can accomplish? Perhaps, greatness is not the power to awe others, but the satisfaction of excelling within your own limitations.

At one point, Amy thinks of Laurie, “If that's the way he's going to grow up, I wish he'd stay a boy.” I feel the same way about her.

Originally published Aug. 3, 2006

She Took Trouble

Don't forget to comment for cookies (and books)! We need your suggestions to keep the BRG conversations going!

Right now, I am in the midst of the latest revision for my new novel "Dumpling Days." Not only has my schedule gotten rather full, recently this novel has filled me with anxiety. When I met the lovely Karen Hesse at the Literary Lights event, she asked me, "How are you doing?" in a concerned way and talked to me briefly about how winning an award changes things. At the time, I thought she meant speaking engagements and school visits and I breezily told her things were fine. Things were busy, but not in a way that was extremely unusual or unmanageable. Just an extra stir in soup, so to speak.

But now, I realize she meant the actual writing. I hadn't thought too much about it, but slowly as each revision goes by I've become more aware of my personal phantom hanging over me. "Dumpling Days" is a continuation of Pacy's story from The Year of the Dog and The Year of the Rat, and, like those books, it is highly autobiographical (this one is about my first trip to Taiwan as a child) and light-hearted.

And in the shadow of the Newbery Honor I start to worry--maybe this book is too light, not ambitious enough, not "Literary" with the capital 'L.' But as I begin to let myself get paralyzed, I see that the award only amplified worries and thoughts I've had my whole career. The only difference is my shielding mantra of "Just do the best you can!" has run a bit thin.

So, it was with great comfort that I recently discovered (okay, I know I am really, really late to the party) Just One More Book's podcast of Eva Ibbotson. In her interview she talked about how she knows books about things like escaping the Nazis and suicide are important but she was not the one to write them. She considered her books as personal gifts to her readers and would always work and work to give them what she felt they deserved. In fact, she said she wanted her tombstone to read, "She Took Trouble."

Listening to her was extremely heartening and inspiring to me. It was the right message at the right time. It helped shake away my doubts and transformed the begrudging revisions into acts of love. With any luck, "Dumpling Days" will be a book I will hold proudly and give to my readers with the same warmth as she did.

I'm ashamed to say that I've never read any of Ms. Ibbotson's work--something I intend to remedy immediately! I've already purchased Which Witch? from my local bookstore, but I wasn't sure if that was the best one to start with. Any suggestions?

A Wedding Poem & Pictures

In January, Grace asked if I would do a poetry reading at her wedding. I felt honored that she asked. Then I started to wonder if I should search for a grand love poem written by a great poet--or write my own. I asked Janet Wong for advice. She suggested that we both write poems, send them to each other, and then "cobble" a poem together written by the two of us. We knew whose words would inspire our wedding poem for Grace and Alex.

A Wedding Poem for Grace and Alex

Where the mountain meets the moon
everything sparkles like raindrops in the sun.
Here at the top of the world
we feel light as clouds.
We dance in the air.

Here on the shimmering summit
we bind ourselves together
with an invisible cord of love.
Our dreams entwine, our hopes
for the future are now one.

We smile thankfully up to the sky
as we become husband and wife.
The two of us will walk hand in hand,
side by side through life, sharing
joys and sorrows, looking ahead--

to our wonderful tomorrows.

by
Janet Wong and Elaine Magliaro

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Raise a cupcake and cheer for the happy newlyweds!

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At Wild Rose Reader, I have an original poem that I wrote about Grace's wedding.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Teaching Books.