Ramadan Mubarek

I had to begin this post with a picture of the food. Tandoor Bakery and Restaurant in Portland, Maine, kindly and deliciously provided an amazing meal for all of us who "broke the fast" for Ramadan together this past Friday night. The line was out the door at the Rines Auditorium, the conversation was great and even though I thought I knew about Ramadan I discovered I had more to learn.

This was all part of the I'm Your Neighbor multicultural community read which is going on in Portland throughout the year, and Friday's event focused on Ramadan and featured my book, Out of Nowhere, and Moon Watchers, by Reza Jalali, illustrated by Anne Sibley O'Brien.

The evening began with Reza sharing memories of Ramadan from his childhood, explaining what the month-long fast is all about, and telling us how his family practices today.  Even though this is a "childrens" book, readers of all ages would love the story and gorgeous illustrations.

Throughout the evening there were prayer rugs on display, books from the I'm Your Neighbor collection for sale and to check out from the library, and henna hand painting demonstrations.

Following Reza's presentation, Pious Ali, of Maine Interfaith Youth Alliance, led a panel discussion which included me, my friend (and great resource for Out of Nowhere) Shobow Saban, Reza and Anne.

From left: Reza Jalali, Anne Sibley O'Brien

Shobow, left, and me.

After that, it was time to FEAST.  We broke the fast with a prayer, and those who hadn't eaten all day were first in line.  Great food and fun conversation followed.

Anne Sibley O'Brien serves up dessert!

Pious Ali (center) shares dinner with friends.

From left: Shobow Saban, Reza Jalali, USM students

Shobow was eager to get to his meal (you can't see it but he's holding a plate) but conversation came first.

I was thrilled to be part of this amazing evening.  Next up on the I'm Your Neighbor schedule: A Path of Stars, a celebration of Cambodians in Maine, Thursday, August 8th.

From left: Shobow Saban, Reza Jalali, me

Books in Boothbay

The Maine author fair formerly known as Books and Blooms (that was back in the day when it was held at the Botanical Gardens), now known as Books in Boothbay (and held at the Boothbay Railway Village) is a rite of summer and I was so happy to attend this past Saturday.  Sponsored by Sherman's Bookstore and the Boothbay Public Library, it's a great day to connect with readers and author friends.  And pick up books!  So many great books.

Katie Quirk and Ellen Booraem

I bought a copy of Katie Quirk's A Girl Called Problem, a young adult novel about a teen from Tanzania who is determined to overcome tremendous adversity in her life and go to school.  I've been an Ellen Booraem fan since I read her book Small Persons With Wings, bought a copy of The Unnameables, and can't wait to read Texting the Underworld, which is coming out this August.

Lisa Jahn-Clough (left) and Jennifer Gooch Hummer

Novelist Lisa Jahn-Clough signed a copy of her new book, Nothing But Blue, for me.  And I got Girl Unmoored, by Jennifer Gooch Hummer, which recently won a 2013 Maine Literary Award.  

Paul Doiron

Of course, the biggest score of the afternoon was a signed copy of Paul Doiron's latest thriller, Massacre Pond.  His publisher provided copies even though the book doesn't officially "launch" for another couple of days so I've been feeling smugly ahead of the curve, curled up with my latest Mike Bowditch installment!

One of the biggest draws of the day was Farmer Minor and his Pot Belly Pig, Daisy, who apparently loves being read to.  I was a little concerned about the pig, frankly.  As you know from my earlier post about cute animals (Never Compete With a Blind Raccoon, 3/11/13), it's a real hazard for authors.  However, Daisy conducted her business in a nearby barn, kids and authors alike were happy, and a great day was had by all. 

And in Daisy's case, a great nap was had!  For a complete list of all the authors who attended Books in Boothbay this year, with links to their websites and descriptions of their books, please click here.

Extreme Randomness

Driving along the interstate in Maine right now this is what you see:  lupines!  They are such contrarian, persnickety plants.  Dig one up by its roots and transplant it in a carefully tended garden filled with rich, composty loam, and they'll perish.  But toss a few seeds along the side of the road, or among rocks on a steep slope (I'm thinking Saddleback Mountain, for example, where the lupines grow thick) and they take over.

I have a few in my front, full-sun beds, and I try not to over-love them.  As soon as they sense you hovering they twist in the opposite direction.  Wilt just a bit. A detached, almost indifferent gardener, does well for lupines, which are remarkably like teenagers.

It's amazing to observe when teenagers open up and when they shut down.  You know that glazed over look?  As if you've become a Human Power Point Presentation.  Dullness incarnate.  I try to avoid it at all costs professionally.

As a visiting author meeting students at schools, one of the strategies that's worked for me is to get the kids talking about slang.  Specifically, their slang.

Now, I'll warn you:  be prepared for the explosion.  It's very hard to control the conversation once the kids get going.  I've seen teachers become visibly nervous as the responses become increasingly animated, everyone starts talking at once, and the decorum which usually accompanies a visiting author visit breaks down.  But oh my goodness, this is fun.  And if you write for kids, it's like mining and striking gold.

Two new words I picked up at my last school visit:  swag and dime.

"Oh, I know swag," I said, when the kids told me about it.  "That's like if you go to the Vanity Fair after party at the Academy Awards, and there are all these gift bags at your seat at the table filled with expensive chocolates or cosmetics.  That's swag."  The kids burst out laughing.

"Uh, no.  Swag is like, game.  As in swagger.  A really hot, cool guy has swag."  Their teacher, my contemporary, spoke up.

"So you'd say, 'He's so swag," she said.  The kids laughed again.

"It's a noun," they explained patiently.  (I know: how could we be so dumb?)  "He's GOT swag."

But of course.

"Swagalicious," one boy commented.

"Oh my god, don't tell her that!" another said.  "That's so wrong!"

Note:  be aware that there are always a few jokers out there who want to steer you in the wrong direction.  Always kid-test your slang with trusted kid readers before inserting into your kid novel.

"But you know, you could have a character that says swagalicious, which is how we see that he's a total nerd trying to sound cool but getting it completely wrong," one student suggested.

Note:  I may very well use that.  Brilliant suggestion.

Then, there was dime.  I had no clue.  After swag, I certainly wasn't going to suggest that they were referring to currency.

"Dime means great.  Ten out of ten.  She's a dime," the kids told us.

"He's so dime?" the teacher suggested.  This did not even draw laughter.  More like sad shakes of the head.

Before I fire up the computer and plug my newly learned slang into whatever story I'm writing, I usually run it by my own kids.  However, my kids are no longer ... kids.  They are college-age young adults. The marketing target of the genre most recently dubbed "new adult."

And not only have they never heard this middle and high school patter ... they have their own.

Which brings me to Woo Girls and biddies.

Now, Woo Girls, while they are often intoxicated and loud, are actually girl-power-gal-pals.  The Urban Dictionary definition is "A woman usually between the ages of 18-24 who shows her excitement and fun that she is having with her friends by exalting with a "WOOO" usually in unison with 4/5 other woo girls."  An entire episode of the comedy series How I Met Your Mother was devoted to this phenomenon:

Woo Girls Wooing

Biddies, I have learned, while they might "woo," are not Woo Girls.  Biddies are the counterparts to bros, (who are commonly male pals, buds, good friends, but the term can also apply to alpha male idiots who are posers) and they are NOT about girl power:  they are about the guys.  Their compass on a Saturday night points "guys."  They make plans based on where the guys will be.  A biddy will ditch her girlfriends in an instant in pursuit of a guy.

Strong women disdain biddies, I am told.

This was not the definition of a biddy as I knew it.  I thought it was an old lady.  And it is, in Webster's.  I was also informed that a biddy will usually dress provocatively, and might be spotted in Lulu's.  Which, for those who care, are very expensive leggings which one wears to supposedly work out, but that true athletes scoff at.

Anyway.  The research continues ....

I'm Your Neighbor

I spent a sunny afternoon playing tourist in Portland, Maine yesterday.  I poked into Miccuci's to load up on Italian ingredients and wines, then walked the length of Commercial Street all the way to the Bam Bam Bakery (gluten-free!)  This is the route you take for glimpses of Casco Bay and cruise ships unloading day trippers, a taste of chowdah or lobstah, and Maine-ish gifts ranging from blueberry jam to deep sea diving helmets.

This is the Person From Away view of Portland, but as the folks who actually live there know, there's way more going on in the "port city." Stroll a few blocks off Commercial Street, and check out the halal store.  Stand outside the public schools and listen to kids converse in languages you can't easily identify.  Visit the Catholic cathedral and watch women and girls in body-masking hijab stroll by. Immigrants and refugees from Asia, Africa, Latin America, Eastern Europe and the Middle East have been making Portland their home during the last three decades, and influencing the culture of the city.

This shift is the impetus and focus behind a year-long, city-wide "read" of books focusing on the new arrivals community.  I'm Your Neighbor is primarily composed of children's books, but  also includes non-fiction collections of essays as well as novels for older readers.  Saturday, May 25th, marked the official kickoff to the community read, which includes Out of Nowhere.

The University of Southern Maine bookstore carries the entire collection, and was on hand with plenty of books.  The Portland Public Library also has multiple copies, as well as other area bookstores.

Dr. Krista Aronson, Professor of Psychology at Bates College, is the I'm Your Neighbor Project Scholar and spoke to students who attended the kickoff event.

Students from Casco and Deering High Schools with copies of Out of Nowhere.

Kirsten Cappy (left) of The Curious City, along with author/illustrator Anne Sibley O'Brien is the driving force behind I'm Your Neighbor. Here's Kirsten with author Frederick Lipp, whose book, Bread Story, is part of the community read.

Here I am with author Terry Farish (left) whose book The Good Braider, about a Sudanese refugee girl, is part of the community read.

For a complete schedule of I'm Your Neighbor events, visit their website.  Next up is on July 11th at Rines Auditorium at the Portland Public Library, when Terry Farish will be joined by hip hop artist O.D. Bonny and A Company of Girls.

Not an Ordinary Day

On an ordinary day I'm usually alone for hours with imaginary people, tapping away at the computer.  This is fine, but it definitely gets a little lonely, and sometimes you wonder:  is anyone out there actually reading these stories?

Then, there are the Not Ordinary Days, when I visit schools and libraries and meet breathing-talking-laughing readers, and it's AMAZING.

Yesterday was one of those.

It started off at Devaney, Doak and Garrett Booksellers in Farmington, Maine. This is where I found the wonderful Kenny Brechner, who put this day together.  Kenny had read my new book, Out of Nowhere, and thought it would be a good fit for high school readers.

Devaney, Doak and Garrett Booksellers

Kenny's also pretty savvy about the realities of school library budgets, and is keenly aware that rural schools can't afford to purchase scores of hardcover books for readers or fork out big fees to visiting authors.  So, he found a sponsor, Franklin Savings Bank, to pay for the books, and when I agreed to donate my time, we were off.  Kenny was my fearless driver for the day, and took me everywhere I needed to be, on time!

We began at Mt. Blue High School in Farmington, where they put together a whole day of activities surrounding diversity and immigration issues.  Mt. Blue is currently under construction, so it was a bit dicey finding the entrance, but once we made our way in we were amazed at the beautiful space created for the students.  The cafeteria, usually not a high point for any public school, is more like an airy college student center, with lofty ceilings and bright, natural light pouring in.

We were led to this room I can only describe as an amphitheater.  It was filled with kids who had read, or were reading, Out of Nowhere, and I had a full hour with them, reading from the book and answering questions.  In the audience were four young women, now in college, who had graduated from Lewiston High School (Lewiston was the inspiration for much that transpires in Out of Nowhere) two years ago, and it was a real privilege to hear from them and get their insights into their community.

From left: Allie Butler, Lindsay Profunno, Veronica Beaudoin
and Sydnie Racine, all LHS grads.

Following my book talk, there was a panel discussion that included the Lewiston High grads, a rep from the Maine Civil Liberties Union, a rep from Maine Civil Rights Workshops, and folks from Hope Acts, a group in Portland providing support to newly arrived immigrants and refugees.  Several of the panelists were asylum seekers from Burundi who have recently come to Maine.  I think for most of the students, it was the first time they'd met anyone who have had the type of life experiences these men have had.

Mt. Blue panel discussion.

There was a lot more going on after that ... including some Somali cooking demonstrations, which I was very sorry to miss ... but Kenny and I were off to our next appointment at Mt. Abram High School, in Strong, Maine.

You can't make that up:  Strong, Maine.  It's really the name of a town.  Love it.

Mt. Abram High School, with only 254 students, encompasses a huge, rural district that borders Canada in places.  Some students live so far from the school, that during the week they live with host families, and only return home to their parents on weekends.  Some students travel close to 50 miles, one way, on the bus to school each morning.  When Kenny and I arrived, we were greeted by librarian Lori Littlefield, who told me I was the first author who had ever visited Mt. Abram.  

Me with Lori Littlefield

When you visit a school where the kids have already read your book, the discussion literally vaults to a whole new level.  You can really "get into it," and they can tell you what they liked and didn't like, what they thought of particular characters, and ask probing questions about choices you made as an author.  Why did you tell the story from that point of view?  What was the inspiration for that character?

It's not very often that a school district can afford to put multiple copies of a hardcover book into the hands of every kid who wants to read it ... but every student in that room had read Out of Nowhere.  They came prepared with terrific questions, and I can't say enough about how much I enjoyed them.  And how deeply I appreciate all the effort that went into making those books available to those kids.

I also coaxed some great info out of them.  One of my favorite questions to ask kids is about slang, and see if they can teach me some new "kid speak" I haven't heard before.  My favorite from yesterday was "mint."  As in "mint condition."  For example, you might say to a friend, "How're you doing?"  And he'll reply, "I'm mint."  Or just, "Mint."  Which translates to:  "I'm doing great.  Top of the world.  Couldn't be better."

If you'd asked me how I was feeling as Kenny and I wrapped up our day of school visits yesterday, I'd have to say:  "Mint."

At Mt. Abram High in Strong, Maine

The Best Thing Ever

To say I love to read is such an understatement. Books, stories, literature, have been my way into the world.  I honestly don't know who I would have become without the books in my life.  Possibly something not so good, because the written word has been such an outlet for me.  There's a great passage in Maria Semple's latest novel, Where'd You Go, Bernadette?" where the protagonist is advised to continue with her creative pursuits, because if she doesn't she's likely to become a menace to society.

Yup.

My love/passion/need for books informed my parenting. I held picture books before my newborn's still-unfocused eyes, before he had the strength to hold his own head upright.  It was a big, big moment in our home when we were reading Chicka Chicka Boom Boom to him for the millionth time and asked him to point to the picture of the moon and he actually raised his chubby infant finger and planted it on the round, gold orb on the page. (His sister insists this was merely a coincidence and we have been over-praising his minor achievements for far too long, but that's a blog post for another day ... )  The best moments of my life have been spent with my childrens' warm bodies tucked in close to me while we read together.

So the notion of a child without a book pains me, literally.  The idea that a child might never know the joy of owning his or her personal book is so sad.  The excitement I see on childrens' faces when they hold their own books is deeply moving.

This week, two special authors have brought my attention to efforts to bring books and children together.  This is great work, this is life-changing, and I share it with you here.  Pass it on, support them if you can:

Middle-grade author, Donna Gephart (her most recent book is Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen) recently participated in the "Kids in Need - Books in Deed" program, which purchases books for children and brings writers into their schools. What a gift: not only to have one of Donna's laugh-out-loud books in hand, but to actually meet her!

Another middle-grade author, Lynda Mullaly Hunt (author of One for the Murphys) identified, while she was researching her novel, that foster kids often never own their own books.  She's created a website which brings new books and social workers together, so that the social workers can choose books for their clients and give them out ... free to the kids. It's called the Book Train, and is just "leaving the station," so to speak.

In future posts here, I'll share with you the books I'm donating to Book Train.  This week, I'm mailing off a new copy of the Newbery winner, The One and Only Ivan, by Katherine Applegate.  In case you haven't read it yet, it's a beautiful story.

I like to imagine some child snuggling into bed with it ...

Spying on Writers

For a month, I’ve retreated to a slower rhythm.

We’ve rented a place on an island in Florida, and while we’re still working (thanks to the Internet/personal computers/WiFi) we look up from our screens to watch low-flying squadrons of pelicans, or take “study breaks” to bicycle to the grocery store for the very necessary limes and avocados.

I confess: I’m not getting as much done as I would have at home, where the latest snowstorm would have definitely kept me more securely fastened to the desk near the lovely woodstove in my office.  I’m learning that cold is a better inducement to work than palm trees.  But I have been getting a little help from some good old fashioned peer pressure:  namely, the writer across the lake.

Every morning, when I get up at what I perceive is the “crack of dawn,” his light already shines brightly from his kitchen and casts an arrowed reflection across the lake at our house.  Ringed by cottages and trees that don’t grow in Maine, it’s a little lake, and you can easily see your neighbors.  That’s how I know he’s a “he,” and a writer.  I can see him sitting at a long table as he holds a pen/pencil and occasionally turns pages.  Plus, this island is infested with writers.  I only just learned that RandyWayne White, of the “Doc Ford” series, lives in this neighborhood (although this guy isn’t him.)

Granted, maybe the guy across the lake is reading the Miami Herald and doing the crossword, but I live by imagination so bear with me.  And if you’re wondering just how close these houses are and how a woman who can’t make out the directions on the pasta box without her reading glasses can see into her neighbor’s kitchen I’ll just confess again:  I took out the binoculars one morning.  I mean, if it’s okay to zoom in close to the herons and osprey and cormorants that populate the lake, why not the humans?  And yes, I would get more done on these new chapters I promised my agent if I spent more time writing and less time spying.  But I want to know:  who IS this person up before the light every single day?

My advisor in college, a poet, once revealed to our class that in order to get any writing done he was always at his desk at home by five a.m.  This guaranteed him a solid couple of hours of uninterrupted, quiet creativity before the maelstrom of young children and breakfast and packed lunches and heading out the door to begin his “workday” as a professor.

When you’re a 21 year old student, the idea of being at your desk, ready to work by 5:00 a.m., seems nightmarish.  Isn’t that still “night?”  It must be, since you only just went to bed two hours earlier ….  Why would anyone inflict that on themselves?

This image … of my advisor, padding about his silent, dark house in stocking feet so as not to wake anyone, brewing coffee, filling pages at a desk illuminated by a single lamp … stayed with me.  Possibly more than the advice on crafting sentences.  It spoke to commitment.  To a strange, near-obsessive need to fill pages, tell stories, make things up.  Willing to sacrifice sleep and salary (because except for the handful of bestselling authors, this DOESN’T make us rich) and endure criticism from strangers.

Sometimes, in the dark before first light, as I wait for the coffee to finish brewing and then for the caffeine to kick in, I don’t, I really don’t, want to open the file for wherever I left off the previous day.  Sometimes the words I labored over for hours clang upon rereading and I’m deeply, seriously discouraged and not at all confident that I can pull off another paragraph, let alone another book.

But then I look up and see someone’s else’s lamp burn, and it reminds me that doing this requires simply doing it.  String a few words together, fill one page, then another.  Return to the desk tomorrow.

Like the guy across the lake.

Okay.  Back to work.