An Invitation to Comment: Gathering Nonfiction E-Book Data/Opinions from YOU!

Saving OP books, giving new life to in-print but barely moving books, or adding a layered, multi-dimensional platform to a healthy title—these are just three of the common reasons publishers, editors, and authors are discussing the world of electronic books as it applies to nonfiction. Most of us have e-book clauses in our contracts, but as the e-world is rapidly changing, so our rights, which has authors and publishers clamoring to figure out the best ways to proceed.

At least for right now, there doesn’t seem to be a clear answer and it can be very book-specific when it comes to nonfiction. In contrast, I have plenty of fiction writer friends who are successfully getting their e-book rights back (generally from OP or almost-OP books) and publishing in this format on their own—for 100% of the profits, minus expenses. But when photo rights and book designs factor so heavily into the final product of a nonfiction book, things are much trickier. If the e-rights for photos have not already been secured for an older NF book, it is not necessarily feasible from a time or money standpoint to track them down again. I certainly make sure I have e-rights for photos now, but that wasn’t the case a few years back.

Read this recent INK post from Jim Murphy for his perspective on one aspect of this issue. And Marc Aronson has tackled this topic in his SLJ blog, Nonfiction Matters, here and here. I think it would be worthwhile as well as illuminating to have NF writers and publishers, as well as readers, teachers, and librarians share some of their thoughts and insights, to see what some of the varied experiences are. I am also quite interested in hearing from people about what they think the future will hold.

Please weigh in with your comments!

Fewer words, more pictures? An infographic

Greetings, I.N.K. readers! Please help me with a little experiment…do you prefer version 1 or 2?

Version 1

We often use words, words, words, (and only words) to express what’s on our mind (or should that be minds?) Words are fab BUT words plus pictures combined are a great way to share ideas!

TIPS:

Doodle your ideas

Use maps + timelines

Write on a photo

Make a diagram

Create a comic

Add clip art

Etcetera…!

Resources:

Blah Blah Blah: What to Do When Words Don’t Work by Dan Roam
100 Things Every Designer Needs to Know About People by Susan Weinschenk, Ph.D.

I just finished the above two books which is why I’m thinking about this topic (a recurring interest). Also, I’ve really enjoyed looking at Karen Romano Young’s Humanimal Doodles. Anyway, here is the other contender (click to enlarge):

Version 2

Brain clip art is from Clipart ETC, courtesy of FCIT at the University of South Florida.
More on infographics from Kathy Schrock’s site.
Written and drawn in Adobe Illustrator

So…? If you’re anything like me, Version 2 is much more fun but more importantly is more memorable. Not everyone will agree (which is fine, too). One of the insights of the Blah Blah/100 Things books is that humans evolved over millions of years to take in information visually to a large degree, and we limit ourselves unnecessarily if we communicate with words alone. If we bury people in too many words, we may confuse and/or bore them. Many other research-based conclusions about how people perceive, learn, and recall information are mentioned in these books.

I’ve been wanting to make an infographic for a long time; please feel free to repost it, print it out, or otherwise share it (without changing it please.) Enjoy!

@Loreen Leedy

my web site

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

If it were up to me, you'd listen to this song while reading this post.

So. It's been a very, very long time since I broke up with a sweetheart, given that I've been married for almost 30 years. (In  my culture, you get married at 11.) And I don't intend to ever break up with him. But there comes a time in every writer's life when she has to break up with a topic. Actually, many times. Usually the break-up comes early on in the project. At least for me. I work on something for a short time and realize that there's just no there there, or that it's not for me. Or someone or something else pulls at me, grabs my attention. ("Oh you over there, come hither...")

But sometimes, it seems, you go out with someone for a very long time before you realize he or she was not your bashert. This has just happened to me. It was a long relationship, but it was going nowhere. It just took me a very long time to realize that because I thought... I was sure...though I had niggling doubts...that I was in love.

But breaking up really IS hard to do.

(By the way, I also like this version of the song. My friend Judy Blundell votes for the slow version, which I also like. Ok, maybe I'm spending too much time listening to Neil Sedaka.)

I mean, look at her. An early NYC policewoman. A detective.  And we had spent so many, many months together.

The more time, energy, money, time, time, time, you invest in a topic, the more reluctant you are to let it go. I bought and read very many books.

I spent many hours looking for people who knew the person I had fallen in love with. After much detective work, I found her descendants. That was a great day! And then her great granddaughter became an enthusiastic helper, inviting me to come to her house, where I combed through boxes of clippings, notes, photos, memorabilia, and even recordings, hoping for the big break in the case. 

I dug deep into the web, into online newspapers, books, footnotes of journal articles. I reached out to authors, researchers, professors, librarians... But I just couldn't get enough primary source information. There was no great case, no story arc, and much of the information was that kind of early 20th century, questionable, surfacey--maybe even fictionalized--storytelling that made this researcher queasy. I could write a great novel about her, sure. And I always wanted to try writing historical fiction, but I was determined to write about her as nonfiction. She was such a character, such an important person, I was convinced that I wanted to write about her for real. If you find a great real person, a trailblazer, you want to write about her as nonfiction. At least that is my predilection. I spent hours in archives, looking at microfilm and microfiche, begging archivists for help. (I even wrote about my research problems in an article in The Horn Book, vowing to bribe the gatekeepers with chocolate. I almost resorted to that.) I told everyone I knew in NYC what I was working on. I told strangers at dinner parties. I buttonholed the state archivist and begged her for help. She gave me a great lead to another archivist. Who tried to help.... I pleaded my case to a group of librarians in PA, and that plea led to another great lead--which ended up going nowhere. I had so many leads that went nowhere I felt like a dog-walker walking invisible dogs. But I kept going. And going. And going. I revised and finished a novel during this time. I wrote a picture book. But I kept coming back to my sweetheart. 

Probably the moment I should have known that it was not meant to be was way back in February of 2010. I finally heard back from a man I'd written to months before. I'd asked for his help in getting into Harlem jail records from the 1920's.  He wrote back a very lovely email: 

I  have an interesting angle you might use in connection with the lack of Harlem Jail records. There's a secret room in the jail holding records from the era that includes MS's undercover work there. It was accessible only by pigeons or by persons who climb a ladder from a room below. The ladder is not a permanent fixture but must be moved into position and held in place by one person while another climbs up, pushes open a panel in the ceiling and climbs into the secret store. It is secret in the sense that unless you knew the room was there, you wouldn't encounter it touring the building on your own.  The story goes a caretaker for the abandoned city jail discovered it one day by accident when cleaning the ceiling of the room below. Of course, the pigeons discovered the secret room long before that, flying in through a broken window, and making use of the place as their private toilet. Thus the bundled up records are covered with their dried droppings. The city uses the health hazards presented as the reason for not retrieving the records. In other words, much of Harlem Jail history is held being held hostage by pigeons.

See http://www.correctionhistory.org/html/chronicl/nycdoc/harlemjail/html/550harlemprison21a.html

and

 http://www.correctionhistory.org/html/chronicl/nycdoc/harlemjail/html/300harlemprison21.html

But no, this did not stop me. I would not be daunted or deterred by pigeon poop! My husband and I joked about buying Hazmat suits. A friend said she's go with me, too. I actually considered it.

I reached out to more and more people, which eventually led to: having dinner with a roomful of retired policewomen; interviewing a 92-year-old policewoman as she lay on her sofa recovering from back surgery (she argued with her friend who brought me there that, no, she would NOT take the clips out of her guns); and, finally, hanging out with a really bright and interesting drug-enforcement officer who, after a dinner in a strange restaurant a few months ago, left me alone in a deserted parking garage late at night while I waited for her to make a phone call inside an unmarked building. When she got back into the car I calmly explained to her how a writer's mind worked, and how she owed me big for the 20 minutes of scenarios that ran through my head during the time she was gone...(all the while texting my husband, saying, "I dont know where I am...!").... It turned out the detective's call was about a fish. A tropical fish. A pufferfish, to be exact. 

It seemed after almost two years the relationship had no future. There was no there there. But I so very much wanted there to be! I felt a strong duty to my subject, to her family, to the policewomen I talked to--but mostly, to myself. I had spent so much time on this project. It was to be my long narrative nonfiction book after Charles and Emma (which is out in paperback next week!)  and I just hated to admit it wasn't working. During this whole time I talked to both my agent and my editor about my progress (or lack of it), and they were encouraging, sweet, supportive, and knew, I'm sure, long before I did, that it was time to say goodbye. I asked the great granddaughter to put in a Freedom Of Information Act request, which she did, willingly. We waited. And waited. We are still waiting. (So it's not truly over yet.) 

Finally, one day last month, I moved the books from my desk to the shelves you see above.  I took down the timeline from my bulletin board. I filed my notes, clippings, print-outs. I archived my interviews. I talked to my agent and my editor again.They both said, Move On. They both said, you might come back to it. As fiction, or maybe someday even as nonfiction. But it is time to move on. You can still be friends, but.... 

It was very painful, folks. It took me weeks to get over it. Really, it felt like a break-up. I walked around dazed, confused, humiliated, disappointed, angry... but mostly sad.

But finally I knew it was time. To find someone new. I might come back. I hope to come back, but for now... I'm moving on. 

Fortunately, fortunately, while I was travelling last summer, I met someone else. He stood in the corner waiting while I realized my relationship was over. He was respectful. He didn't pounce. He whispered, "Come hither, come hither..." 

And now, friends, I have committed. And I am in love. And this one is going to work. This one is Mr. Right. 

Picture Book Month

There’s a new holiday in town. November is now Picture Book Month. Several picture book authors got together to create this event—and, good for them. As they said on their web site, Picture Book Month: A Celebration!, “We are doing this because in this digital age where people are predicting the coming death of print books, picture books (the print kind) need love. And the world needs picture books. There’s nothing like the physical page turn of a beautifully crafted picture book.”

I have written on this subject myself, a rebuttal to the attitude reported in The New York Times, of parents wanting children to leap past picture books to read chapter books in the quest to get them on the road to...what?

Each day on this site, another picture book author writes an entry titled, “Why Picture Books are Important.” Here are some excerpts from the entries so far:

I believe our first stories become part of our DNA forever. -Samantha Berger

Picture books are important because they are with us for life…No matter how many books we’ve read since, they will always have a place in our hearts…and a relationship that, whether we realize it or not, has shaped our lives. -Dan Yaccarino

When my now 11 year old girl, Eliana, was a preschooler, we bought the book, In My World, by Lois Ehlert. The illustrations are simple. The text is sparse. And yet, there is a magic about this book that completely captured her. It could have been the exquisite die cuts or the bright colors… It could have been. But it wasn't. It was the wondrous way the words and the pictures were married. One could not work without the other. Every night, Eliana read that book to me, putting her little hand, which fit perfectly, inside the die cut hand of the book. And every night I would tear up knowing that I was experiencing a magical moment in my daughter's life… -Diane de las Casas

Picture books have a special kind of magic in the hands of children. They open windows of opportunity — glimpses of new worlds — in the safest of places: in the library, in the classroom, or in their very own rooms. Kids can sound out one word at a time, breeze through full sentences or skip the words altogether to build stories of their own based on warm, vivid illustrations. Anything is possible… -Kelly Milner Halls

I have a sixteen-year-old niece, Sarah. A year ago my sister-in-law, her mom, died suddenly. A friend of the family gave my brother a picture book called Tear Soup to help with Sarah’s mourning.
One night, he walked into her room with the book under his arm. She took one look at him, rolled her eyes, and said, “Yeah, right. You’re going to read THAT to ME?”
“Yes,” he said. “Move over.”
She argued – what teen girl wouldn’t? – but grudgingly made room. They cuddled up and read the book. A couple of days later, Sarah asked, “Dad, whatever happened to all my picture books from when I was little?” My brother pulled a box out of storage and the next night came in with Caps for Sale.
A new tradition was born. For months, every night, he’d read a picture book to her from her childhood.
Picture books heal. No matter your age. -Katie Davis

I have looked up some of the other created holidays for November—International Drum Month, Peanut Butter Lovers Month, Aviation History Month. In my book, this one beats them hands down.

Spread the word.


In celebration of picture books, I would like to recommend one. I’m cheating, though. This one is not nonfiction, but still, “pure genius” according to its Kirkus starred review.

Furthermore it was written by Lita Judge, an author whose books are mostly nonfiction including the lauded One Thousand Tracings and Born to be Giants.

Red Sled by Lita Judge is a whimsical dream of fun and magic. And that is a fact!

Could It Be My Favorite Book?

I'm delighted to introduce author Ann Bausum, our second guest blogger of the week. As someone who was born in Memphis and still has strong family ties to the city, I'm especially fascinated by the topic she tackles in her latest book.

Ann writes:

Each year I visit frequently with middle school and high school students to talk about my work as a nonfiction author, and I don’t think a session has ever passed without someone asking: “What’s the favorite book you’ve written?”

Although I’ve explained numerous times that being asked to pick my favorite book is like being asked to pick my favorite child—in other words impossible—my newest publication may make me a liar. From start to finish I’ve felt absolutely captivated by the research, writing, and production of Marching to the Mountaintop: How Poverty, Labor Fights, and Civil Rights Set the Stage for Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Final Hours. (National Geographic Children’s Books will release the title on January 10.)

The biggest reason I may start calling this my favorite book is the history itself. I literally found myself exclaiming out loud as I worked with facts that leant themselves so well to the dramatic potential of narrative nonfiction. The historical characters, the setting, the chronology, the thickening “plot” would be the envy of any novelist. “Do the history proud,” became my goal.

I wanted to give readers the context for the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. Plenty of children (and even adults) don’t know that he died in Memphis. Few people of any age can tell you that he had gone there to advocate for the labor rights of the city’s sanitation workers.

Death not only concludes this history; it starts it, too. On February 1, 1968, two sanitation workers were crushed to death while riding inside the barrel of a garbage truck. Within days more than a thousand sanitation and street repair workers decided to strike for the cause of safer working conditions, better compensation, and union recognition. Their demands quickly led to a stalemate between the all-black workforce and the almost entirely white leadership of Memphis.

After police attacked peaceful strikers with clubs and tear gas on February 23, the workers rallied behind an expanded campaign for social justice. “I AM A MAN,” became their persistent assertion. The cause of the striking workers overlapped perfectly with King’s own spring objective: to highlight the burden of poverty by mounting a national Poor People’s Campaign.

Many of the men on strike in Memphis worked full time and yet still qualified for welfare. King visited them three times between March 18 and early April to support their cause. During his final trip, on what would become the eve of his death, he gave one of the best speeches of his life—an extemporaneous oration colloquially known as the “Mountaintop Speech.”

During two research trips to Memphis I studied documents and photos in the archives of the University of Memphis, spoke with eyewitnesses to history, and walked the same routes marched by protestors in 1968. I lingered outside Clayborn Temple, now shuttered but formerly the meeting spot for countless marches. I stood on the stage of Mason Temple, the place where King told audience members how he had gone “to the mountaintop” and “seen the promised land.” I visited the site of his death at the Lorraine Motel, now incorporated into the National Civil Rights Museum, and I observed the perch from which his assassin fired the shot that killed King on April 4, 1968.

The spotlight on Memphis became so intense following King’s death that the city’s anti-union stance wavered and collapsed. Workers gained their collective bargaining rights, wage increases, and improved worker safety in a strike settlement on April 16.

When it came time to start writing, current events created a backdrop that rivaled the power of the Memphis history. I wrote Marching to the Mountaintop from my home in southern Wisconsin at the same time that public employees began demonstrating in nearby Madison. The juxtaposition of the two campaigns for collective bargaining rights became surreal. Immersed in writing about labor rights all day, I emerged to hear each night of fresh labor history in the making.

The book’s subsequent production process became equally riveting. Marty Ittner, a guest blogger on I.N.K, designed Marching to the Mountaintop using the same creative talents that she employed with my 2006 title Freedom Riders and every title I’ve published since—not to mention books by I.N.K. writers Sue Macy and Marfé Ferguson Delano. She transformed dog-eared black and white photos by employing dramatic silhouettes, bold color washes, and retro photo essays. She exploited every possible design element, even the quotation marks.

I dedicated Marching to the Mountaintop to my fourth-grade schoolteacher, Mrs. Christine Warren. I had entered her classroom the year integration reached my childhood home in Lexington, Virginia. Although many white parents quietly opted out of having their children placed in classrooms led by African Americans, my parents did not. Thus I became one of the few white students in Mrs. Warren’s class and spent the year celebrating her love of books. King died the next year while I was in fifth grade.

A storm raged in Memphis the evening of King’s final speech. (Consider this element one of the many facts which prompted my thanks to history.) He spoke that night of the promised land, a place he could visualize of equality and justice and respect. Where no one would have to declare “I AM A MAN” to be treated like a human being. Where students of all colors learned from teachers of every color. “I may not get there with you,” King said that stormy evening. “But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."

“Many people leaped to their feet, shouted, and clapped their hands. Others sat sobbing, consumed with emotion,” I wrote in my book. “As people drifted away from Mason Temple, they walked under unexpectedly calm skies”—(I did not make this up)—“and their excitement from the remarkable speech mellowed into a satisfying confidence about what lay ahead.”

Could Marching to the Mountaintop become my favorite book? I think it already has. (Don't tell!)

Will the Real Maria Anna Mozart Please Stand Up?

It's my pleasure today to share a guest blog post by friend and fellow critique-group member, Elizabeth Rusch.

Elizabeth writes:

Will the Real Maria Anna Mozart Please Stand Up?

A critique of the French film Mozart’s Sister

Soon after my newest nonfiction title for young readers, For the Love of Music: The Remarkable Story of Maria Anna Mozart (Tricycle Press/Random House, 2011) was released, I began getting emails from friends telling me about a French film on the same subject called Mozart’s Sister. The film finally came to Portland, and I was invited to do a Q&A after the show on opening weekend. Thank goodness, because whether I was invited to or not, I would have wanted to stand up in front of the audience and set the record straight.

What Is Accurate: The Mozart family did indeed tour Europe for three years, traveling by carriage for more than 3,000 miles, giving concerts in 88 cities. Maria Anna, older sister of Wolfgang by five years, was a child prodigy, a gifted virtuosic pianist. She composed music, and indeed, her music has been lost.

What I Loved: The depiction of the Mozart family relationships, their affection, dedication to music, and the silliness that bordered on bawdiness (especially when Leopold and the two children stand at the bathroom door while the mother tries out the bidet) captured visually what I read in the Mozart family letters. There were other gorgeous moments in the movie that probably came from primary source material. Maria Anna writes in her journal from the European trip about watching the waves come in and out at Calais. And there it was, the beautiful Marie Féret, hair fluttering in the wind, staring dreamily at the ocean. Wolfgang loved canaries, and there he was poking one with a violin bow.

What Is Inaccurate, Misleading, and Troubling: Soon after establishing the Mozart family on their journey, a carriage wheel breaks outside Paris. Broken carriage parts are mentioned frequently in the family letters, but here the movie jumps off a solid foundation based in fact to a completely fictional account that is not only inaccurate, but also blatantly contradicts what we know about the Mozart family and their daughter.

In the movie, Maria Anna develops close friendships with a daughter of Louis XV and the crown prince. The second relationship is struck while Maria Anna cross-dresses to deliver a letter, and plays violin and sings for the prince. Maria Anna begs to stay in Paris while her family continues on the musical tour. When they leave, she continues her relationship with the prince, studies composition at a Paris academy dressed as a boy, and writes a violin concerto.

The critique: Oh, where to start! Maria Anna was closely chaperoned by her parents at all times, did not stay in Paris alone as a young, single 15 year old, developed no relationship or romance with French royalty, didn’t cross dress, or even play violin! While there are references in letters to Maria Anna singing, they usually entail Wolfgang teasing her about her singing voice. Maria Anna’s singing was not her genius, her harpsichord playing was.

The movie depicts Maria Anna burning her violin concerto and claims that she never composed again, had only one child, and that she died blind and poor. Yet later letters from Wolfgang praise Maria Anna for her compositions, she eventually married a baron enabling her a comfortable living, and she had three children, only one of whom died in childhood.

The Story the Movie Missed: In the end, Mozart’s Sister seems more obsessed by the weird court of Louis XV than in its title subject matter. So much rich, dramatic material about Maria Anna Mozart’s life was distorted, misrepresented or ignored.

Here’s what I find amazing about Maria Anna’s story: She was a child prodigy, thought to be a better pianist than Wolfgang – and all the other pianists in Europe. She was Wolfgang Mozart’s closest musical collaborator, and, as I explore in a recent Smithsonian magazine article, was probably an important musical influence. There’s an incredible scene from Maria’s life that the movie skips completely. While in London, Leopold falls ill and the children have to be very quiet – they can’t even play their instruments. So together, Wolfgang and Maria Anna write what is known as Wolfgang’s first symphony. But it is in Maria Anna’s handwriting.

After the three-year musical tour, the family returns to Salzburg. But when Wolfgang sets off to tour Europe with his father and later with his mother, Maria is left home. While he learns composition and is exposed to the stimulating musical life of Italy, Maria oversees the cook, gathers herbs, and mends clothes. But she also continues to practice for hours each day, teaching herself harmony, modulation, interpretation -- and composition.

She falls in love, and she and Wolfgang share a dream of the family reuniting in Vienna, where she would be married to her love, teaching music and giving concerts. Sixteen months later, Maria Anna is married off to a baron who is twice widowed and already has five children. But she continues to play three to four hours every day – even when her instrument goes horribly out of tune and can’t be fixed for more than two years. When her husband dies, Maria Anna returns to Salzburg where she teaches music and gives private concerts.

At the age of seventy-eight, Maria died. Two weeks before she died, though she was blind and has lost the use of one hand, she asked to be carried to the piano that she and Wolfgang play on together as children. Found on the piano were scores from her brother’s operas Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute, probably the last music she ever played. On their childhood tour, Wolfgang often played blind to astonish audiences. At the end of her life, his sister Maria Anna also played blind, and with only one hand, for the sheer love of the music.

What bothers me most about Mozart’s Sister is that the film used Maria Anna to get to the Louis XV court and then ignored her and who she really was.

Maria Anna Mozart’s story is one of not only musical genius, but also of undying musical passion and commitment. There is a beautiful film to made, but Mozart’s Sister is not it. Maybe I should write it ☺

Elizabeth Rusch

Thinking About Habitats

I’ve been thinking a lot about habitats lately. One of my favorite hiking spots features two very different habitats—a woodland and a pond—and each one has provided a special experience that eventually led to a book.

So today I’m going to share a video about that very special place and a list of some of my favorite children’s book about habitats.

I See a Kookaburra: Discovering Animal Habitats Around the World—Steve Jenkins and Robin Page

Like all of Jenkins’s books, this one offers a combination of glorious cut paper collages and clear, concise text. It also has a fun, interactive game-like quality that invites participation. I See a Kookaburra introduces children to six of the world’s habitats and some of the animals that live in them. As an added challenge, and to make the point that ants live all over the world, one of these insects is hidden in each scene. Rich backmatter with maps rounds out the presentation. School Library Journal calls the book “A first-rate foray into ecology that will encourage readers to explore the world around them,” and I couldn’t agree more.

One Small Place in a Tree—Barbara Brenner

Some habitats are huge—a savanna, a forest, an ocean, but this book celebrates the wonders of a hidden microhabitat—a hole in a tree. As a bear sharpens her claws on a tree trunk, she unknowingly begins a chain of natural events that, over time, form a tree hole home for a menagerie of forest creatures, from salamanders and tree frogs to a family of white-footed mice. Lyrical prose and highly detailed, realistic illustrations bring the world beneath the bark to life for young readers.

The Salamander Room—Anne Mazer (illus Steve Johnson and Lou Fancher)

The Salamander Room is a gentle tale with an important message. A boy finds a salamander in the woods and asks his mom if he can keep it. Instead of saying “no,” she asks him questions that encourage him to think about what the salamander needs to survive and, ultimately, to realize on his own that he cannot create an adequate home for the salamander in his bedroom. Lush, shadowy paintings perfectly capture the mood of the boy’s increasingly elaborate plans for transforming his room into a suitable habitat for the little amphibian.

Redwoods—Jason Chin

Clear, straightforward text provides wonderfully detailed information about redwoods and the microhabitats they support. But the art offers more—pure magic. It gives readers a peek into the imagination of a boy reading a book about towering redwood trees. The journey begins in a New York City subway car, but transports the boy—and the readers—into a redwood forest where climbing gear appears at just the right moment, allowing readers to scale a giant tree and take a look around. It’s not often that a picture book shares fascinating science content and simultaneously promotes curiosity and fosters imagination, but this book does it all.

The Great Kapok Tree: A Tale of the Amazon Rain Forest—Lynne Cherry

In this breathtakingly beautiful picture book, a man falls asleep while chopping down a kapok tree in a Brazilian rainforest. As he naps, a variety of forest creatures and finally a child whisper in his ear, explaining why the trees and the forest is so important. When the man awakens, he gets up and goes home without completing his task. Thus, the book shows readers the lushness and beauty of the forest habitat and explains its importance in a way that will resonate strongly with children. Rich, vivid endpapers include a map of the world's tropical forests and the amazing array of Amazon wildlife.

Song of the Waterboatman and Other Pond Poems—Joyce Sidman (illus Beckie Prange)

This collection, illustrated with striking woodcuts, features science facts combine with vivid poems about pond life through the seasons. Focusing on one pond creature or plant per spread, Sidman employs a variety of age-appropriate poetic forms to bring the habitat and its inhabitants to life for readers. The poems will certainly engage children, and the rich prose sidebars are chockful of background information sprinkled with fascinating tidbits. After reading this elegant, inspiring title, children will be begging for a field trip to the nearest pond, so they can see nature’s wonders for themselves.

Frog in a Bog—John HimmelannThis cleverly conceived circular story begins with a frog jumping off a fern and ends with a frog (presumably the same little critter) jumping back onto a fern. In between, readers follow a chain of events that introduces young readers to wetland inhabitants and clearly explains their interdependence. Accurate, detailed watercolors show the bog and its residents in their true glory, and field guide-like backmater will encourage young explorers to observe and identify at the animals living in nearby wetlands.

Hotel Deep: Light Verse from Dark Water—Kurt Cyrus

Engaging poetic text and lavish, detailed paintings plunge readers into the amazing world below the ocean’s wavy surface. As we follow a lost sardine searching for its companions, we are treated to one glorious underwater scene after another. Some creatures hide and others hunt, simultaneously introducing readers to predator-prey relationships and adding a sense of drama to the book. A thumbnail picture-glossary identifies about two-dozen ocean creatures. This is a great read-aloud title and a perfect choice for introducing a unit on the ocean.

One Night in the Coral Sea—Sneed B. Collard (illus Robin Brickman)

Coral reefs are one of the ocean’s most critical habitats, so it’s great to see a book that gets down to the bottom of it all, describing the lifecycle and behaviors of coral animals in detail. Brickman’s colorful three-dimensional artwork add wonderful textured layers to the coral-reef scenes. Try pairing this book with Colorful Captivating Coral Reefs by Dorothy Hinshaw Patent for even more amazing information about the cast of characters that call coral reefs home.

On Meadowview Street—Henry Cole

In this wonderful story, author-illustrator Henry Cole introduces us to curious, clever Caroline, a young girl who’s destined to become a scientist. Caroline wonders why her new home is on Meadowview Street, when there isn’t a meadow in sight. So when she spots a lone wildflower in her lawn, she asks her dad to mow around it and he does. Soon, her one-flower nature preserve has expanded to include the entire back yard. Then following Caroline’s lead, neighbors transform their yards too. Cole’s spare text and tender, acrylic paintings team up to tell the lovely story blooming with simplicity and energy.

Do you have your own favorite habitat book?

The Real Future

Disoriented and a little confused. That's what I felt as the pre-Halloween snowstorm hit, accompanied by thunder, falling tree branches (hundreds of them in our tree happy little town) and the pop-pop-pop of exploding transformers. Oddly enough, I was feeling much the same way in the days leading up to the storm, though it had nothing to do with the treatening weather.
*
Two publishers had sent me contracts to turn seven of my published books into e-books. It felt nice that the books were going to be given a new life, but that pleasant feeling was undercut by the actual terms of the contracts. Each publisher had its own idea of what a fair share of the sales was and my agent made it clear that she thought neither was being particularly generous. And neither publisher would budge an inch from their position. It was a take it or leave it sort of deal. What to do? I could just turn them down and see what happened next, though that seemed like a drastic step. And I'm not the sort of person who does drastic things. So I put the contracts aside to think on them.
*
Then the storm hit and the branches rained down and confusion reined (I couldn't resist, sorry). On Monday I was looking through the Times at the numerous storm damage pieces when I came across an article about The Dover Bookstore on Earlham Street in London's Covent Garden. Now here was a story about a real bookstore with real books on the shelves with an owner named Mark Oddie (love that name!) and a regular stream of customers (enough to generate $1.25 million in sales in 2006). Okay, this bookstore sells "clip art" books put out by Dover Publications and not regular trade books. But they are books and The Dover Bookstore was still in business after twenty-five years. All was right in the world, I told myself. There was a center to the planet after all, something to hold onto during uncertain times. Until I neared the end of the article, that is.
*
That was when Mr. Oddie described his store as a "charitable operation" that made enough money to pay the bills, but little beyond that. My spirits drooped even more when I read that Mr. Oddie's lease will be up early next year and that Dover Publications is about to introduce direct downloads of images within a year. It seems that another bookstore will soon go the way of those exploding transformers. Pop!
*
I had hoped to read an article that would reasssure me, but instead came away even more disoriented. Which is when I turned back to those e-book contracts. My agent and I may not like the terms of the contracts, but they do represent the publishers' belief that the books have a future life. No one can define what that future will be, of course, but where there is a future there is hope. That's the sort of profession we're in. Every time we begin a new book we put our emotions on the line. We have no idea how the book will turn out (at least I don't) or whether our words will be well-received or even be in print after six months. But we do it anyway; we risk our happiness and piece of mind again and again, because we need to see where our ideas will lead, what might emerge from a simple idea.
*
So I signed all of the contracts, sent them off, and promptly banished thinking about them for now. No reason to occupy brain cells with needless, troublesome worry when a new project with new challenges is demanding immediate and focused attention. I will always love real books -- holding them, smelling them, hearing the binding crack as I turn the pages. And I'll always surround myself with books. Lots of them. But the real future, after all, isn't confined by form; the real future is in the words on the screen right in front of me.

Announcing: A Contest Where Kids Contemplate History

Of all the subjects I talk about when I do school visits, the exploits of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL) seem to resonate most with students of all ages. Those kids who play ball are hungry for details of the games and life in the league. Those who value the players’ role as sports pioneers want to know what motivated them to leave home to forge careers in one of the first professional opportunities for female athletes.

My relationship with the players in this league, about which I wrote my first book, A Whole New Ball Game, has progressed from professional to personal, and I now serve on the AAGPBL Players Association Vision Committee, a group charged with considering how best to preserve the league’s legacy. As such, we have just announced BATTER UP!, a contest that challenges students in grades 6, 7, and 8 (in the United States and Canada) to write short essays answering one of three questions about the impact of the league and its players. The Grand Prize Winner, and a parent or guardian, will get an all-expenses-paid trip to the 2012 AAGPBL players reunion, to be held next September in Syracuse and Cooperstown, New York. Each of the four Runners-Up will win AAGPBL prize packs, including autographed bats and balls and other memorabilia. The winning essay will be published in the AAGPBL newsletter, and it, along with the runner-up essays, will be featured on the organization’s Web site.

“We want to encourage young people to reflect upon the legacy of our league,” explains Players Association president Lois Youngen, a four-year AAGPBL veteran and a professor emeritus at the University of Oregon. “Many of our members became teachers after our playing days,” she added, “so we know how curious and creative young people can be. We’re inviting them to do a little research about our league and to consider its impact.” Some of those players-turned-teachers will serve as first-round contest judges, along with others from a variety of walks of life. If you’re a teacher, librarian, author, or editor who’s interested in joining the panel of final judges, e-mail me at mail@suemacy.com. Contest entries are due via the entry form on the contest Web site by March 18, 2012, and the winners will be chosen by the end of May.

We understand that not every kid will jump at the chance to enter this contest. When I told a friend who works with middle schoolers about it, she suggested sexier prizes, such as iPods or iPads. Add to that the fact that entering requires work and we know that narrows the pool even more. We're hoping some teachers will use the contest as an opportunity to get their kids thinking and writing about history, and have included a small prize for the sponsoring teacher of the winner and runners-up. We're also banking on the hope that for some kids, the prospect of meeting Terry Donahue or Sophie Kurys or any of the other 150 or so surviving players is even more exciting than winning one of Mr. Jobs' miraculous devices.

So spread the word. And if you're interested in reading about some of the highlights of this year's AAGPBL reunion, see Sue's Views on my Web site.

[Note: The statue of the AAGPBL player above is on display at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown.]

A Bridge to the Classroom

As most of you know, the questions I’ve been asking for many years, the questions behind the database of our books aligned to national education standards on the Ink Think Tank website and the questions behind the formation of Ink Think Tank itself are: Why aren’t our books used as primary reading sources in classrooms? Why are our books usually considered “enrichment” not to be read as part of the daily fare? Why are teachers so intent on “covering” curriculum material that has a good chance of showing up on assessment tests rather than on engaging students in a true learning process? One possible answer is that “covering the material” is entrenched tradition shored up by lesson plans, questions for discussion, and tests provided by textbook companies. Teachers fear that in straying from this path they’ll miss something crucial for the tests. (Never mind that the tests are made up of reading selections excerpted from our books.) Is one of reasons that our books are not used as widely as they should be this the lack of support materials? Do teachers need help in understanding how to use nonfiction literature in the classroom? Is the prospect of creating one’s own support materials, figuring out how to use nonfiction literature in the classroom, overwhelming for the overworked teacher?

According to Dr. Myra Zarnowski, who teaches nonfiction literature to prospective teachers, both graduate and undergraduate students at Queens College, CUNY, the resounding answer is: Yes! They do need a bridge to know how to effectively use our books. And Myra is just that. She is our “not-so-secret-weapon” at bridging the divide between authors/teachers/students. In recent days I have come to appreciate what she brings to the mix. We didn't do so well on our own. Let me explain.

Last school year, Ink did an experiment. We tried out a couple of “Computerside Chats” where authors talked online about using our books in the classroom. Myra listened and felt that our chats were not as focused as they could be. So we asked for her help.This year Myra is hosting a series of CILC “Spotlight” webinars where she is interviewing us with real strategies and guidelines for teachers. It has been an eye-opener for me! While there is some overlap between authors and teachers,the skill set needed by teachers is not the same as those used by authors. Myra suggests using our books in three different ways.

1. The author as co-teacher. How does the book help illuminate the content you have to teach?
2. The author as exemplary writer. How does the author bring the “magic mix’ of being funny, friendly and factual to connect with the reader?
3. The author as inquirer: How does s/he know what they know?

How do I know Myra’s approach so well? We’ve been working together. I’m in the first of four free “Spotlight” webinars produced by CILC along with Alexandra Siy. Science Writing that Makes You Question What You Know will be live on November 30, 2011 from 4 to 5 pm EDT. It will be recorded and archived.

The other upcoming Spotlight events (all from 4-5 pm Eastern Time) where Myra interviews INK authors are:

Person-Centered Views of the Past: Penny Colman, Jim Murphy, Andrea Warren 2/1/12
Innovative Picture Book History and Social Studies: Trish Marx, Roz Schanzer 4/25/12
Math and Science for Young Thinkers: Dorothy Hinshaw Patent, David Schwartz 5/16/12

For more information and to register for Science Writing that Makes You Question What You Know go here. Hope to see you there.

FINE ART FOR KIDS IS STILL LOOKIN’ FINE TO ME

I up and saw something pretty amazing last Thursday night. It was The Original Art Exhibition in New York City at the Society of Illustrators, featuring genuine artwork from lots of the very best children’s book illustrators in the business. Trust me. As every artist on the planet will tell you, no matter how beautifully the artwork in a book is reproduced, the original art is soooo much better and richer and juicier. So blog readers, if you’re anywhere even vaguely near the vicinity of 128 East 63rd Street, you are hereby invited to take a gander….this show will be hanging out on the walls over there until December 29th and then the whole thing will disappear.


Bad news:

In this digital age, free or almost free access to (mostly bad or boring) art is becoming the way of the world. Who wants to pay actual money when you can get pix for next to nothing, even if they’re full of, um, pap? And who knows how long we’ll be able to hold real books made out of real paper in our hot little hands?


Good news:

There are still brilliant illustrators out there who are passionate about using their brains, honing their skills, and inventing something unique, long-lasting, luminous, and memorable with their own two hands. And this show proves it.


Better news:

If you’re one of the lucky ones, illustrating books is among the most interesting jobs you can ever imagine. Why settle for an ordinary livelihood if you can do work you love in the arts? Oh. Did I say “work?” My bad. Despite the long hours and labor-intensive requirements, illustrating books somehow feels a lot more like play to me. (And besides that, you don’t have to drive in rush hour traffic to get to, um, work…)


Preaching-to-the-choir, get-on-your-high-horse type of news:

We dumb down our culture in the worst possible way when we ignore the arts. We put ourselves at risk of losing the very same kinds of creativity that can make us shine. We lose our ability to enrich our day-to-day lives in substantive ways and even—or especially—to have some fun.

Let’s take a quick trip backwards to the days when boatloads of people from around the world began to wander onto these shores. To make a better life for themselves and their families, the rules used to be as follows:


The first generation to come to America had to do hard manual labor to make sure that their children got a good education.


The second generation got the good education so they could become business owners or doctors or lawyers or scientists or engineers.


That way, the third generation could afford to reach the True Summit of Civilization by going into the arts if they were so inclined. I have absolutely nothing against hard manual labor. I have absolutely nothing against becoming a professional. But Choir, let’s make sure the arts survive and grow, OK?

Design History - Interesting Nonfiction for Kids

Think I have told the story several times. Freshmen year of college. Art History class. Nine a.m., dark auditorium, most comfortable chairs in the world. Let's just say, I have no idea how I got an A in that class. Somehow I managed to memorize the names and dates from Janson's History of Art for a few hours. Fifteen or so years later, I'm researching an Art Appreciation lesson for my daughter's first grade class.  I remember thinking, "Wow, I know what a Matisse is. Finally, I understand the artwork and the artist. It all makes sense."  Light bulb moment.

The same light bulb moment occurred for me with Design History. Sophomore year of college, we all took History of Industrial Design. I don't remember one thing about that class. Well, I remember one thing - I did a fantastic presentation and slide show on the history of the umbrella. The book "The History of the Umbrella" was a great find. My light bulb Design History moment happened my senior year at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design in Pat Allred's six-credit hour History of Design class. Three hours, three times a week, Professor Allred had our attention for the entire class time weaving together all the design principles while relating the design style with the timeline. Complementing the information was three hours worth of slides showing the manufacturing/ technology, social and economic history and the parallel designs. It all made sense. Light bulb moment.

The reason for this trip down memory lane is that today I finally have in my hands the New Second Edition of A History of Design from the Victorian Era to the Present by Ann Ferebee, this second edition co-authored by Jeff Byles. The first edition paperback version was just published when we read it in class, 30 years ago. The subtitle is A Survey of the Modern Style in Architecture, Interior Design, Industrial Design, Graphic Design, and Photography.

A History of Design from the Victorian Era to the Present 
by Ann Ferebee with Jeff Byles
W. W. Norton  2011   Second Edition








The book not only is a must have for students with an interest in any design field, but can also be used in history classes. The history of our culture, our technologies, our materials can be illustrated by the history of our places and things. The material becomes relatable, and, well, makes sense. 

While having just received the book, I've only had a chance to flip through the pages and check out the great examples of design used to illustrate the book. My poor son and husband were with me in the room when I read the section of the book about the Brooklyn Bridge.  The information is correct that John Roebling did die just as the bridge started construction, but I think we need more information than "Washington Roebling, his son and disciple, completed it". In fact, Washington Roebling became bedridden with caissons disease/ the bends and overlooked the construction while his wife, Emily Warren Roebling, supervised the building of the bridge for the remaining 14 years. Had to sent that one straight.

Hope that the second edition of A History of Design from the Victorian Era to the Present becomes a staple in Design History classes like the first edition.