Author: Peg Kehret

Yesterday one of my highschool classmates forwarded an obituary of Cecily Spaulding. Miss Spaulding was my speech teacher at Austin High School in Austin, Minnesota, in 1953-54. She taught me to never say “uh” between thoughts, to speak clearly and concisely, and to be well prepared for my audience. Even more important than how to deliver a speech, she taught me to value solid content. I learned to appreciate speeches with depth, speeches that made me think and question.  At the time, I never dreamed how useful her instruction would be in my future career.

I remember giving one speech based on the quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.” Miss Spaulding encouraged me to explore my dawning realization that it’s okay to be different. Teens in general want desperately to be accepted by their peers. Miss Spaulding taught me to be true to myself, regardless of what others were doing.

Miss Spaulding also directed the high school plays, and I tried out for all of them. Sometimes I got a part; sometimes I didn’t. If I wasn’t cast, I worked backstage. I learned to love the theater and the feeling of community that develops between those who stage a production.

I was astonished to learn from the obituary that my former teacher was only ten years older than I am. When I was in high school, the age difference seemed far greater.

Cecily Spaulding is the only person on whom I completely based one of my characters. She was the model for Miss Fenton, the teacher in Cages. When Cages was published, in 1991, I found an address for Miss Spaulding and sent her a copy of the book, along with a letter explaining that she was the inspiration for my character. I also told her how much I valued what she had taught me and how useful that knowledge had been.

I saw her once a few years later when I returned to Austin High School to speak to the Language Arts students. Miss Spaulding came to hear my talk and we had a lovely chat afterward.

I’m writing about Miss Spaulding today to honor her memory and also because many teachers read this blog. Teachers, I want you to know that your efforts do bear fruit. Your words and actions matter in the future lives of your students. Decades from now, some will remember you vividly and give you credit for being a positive influence in their lives.

Thank you, teachers.  Thank you, Miss Spaulding.

Gus has a new, permanent home. As soon as the road was passable, the potential adopter, Jackie, came to see him and he went home with her that same day. I’ve heard from her twice since then. Gus has made friends with her dog. He naps in front of the wood stove but sleeps at night with Jackie and her husband. He follows them around and gets lots of petting. In other words, Gus found the perfect home for him which makes me very happy.

Caring for foster animals is one of the most satisfying things I do.  It is sometimes stressful as I worry that they won’t ever be adopted, and it gets expensive as I pay for vaccines, worming, flea treatment and spay/neuter surgeries. It’s also time consuming as I play with them, hold them, pet them, and help them learn to be trusting and friendly. But every time one of the cats is adopted into a loving family I feel such joy. It is happiness for the animal, for the people who will now love and care for this special creature, and for myself. I know that it would not have happened if I hadn’t taken them in, and given them a chance.  As with most volunteer work, I get back more than I give.

Western Washington has gone from heavy snow to torrential rains and the result is flooding everywhere. I live in the foothills of Mt. Rainier, on high ground where flooding is not a problem. However, I am currently unable to get off the hill because the only road is flooded. There is a small (usually) creek at the bottom of my hill. I drive across a narrow bridge to get to Wilkeson and from there to the rest of the Puget Sound area. Now the creek has overflowed, the intersection is under water, and some homes are flooded. The Carbon River, which feeds my creek, crested last night so I hope the water will recede soon. It is an odd feeling to know that the only road connecting me to the rest of the world is closed. There are now notes about this in my Ideas Box.

Soggy ground is a concern for me because it gets so saturated with water that tree roots can’t hang on in high winds and the trees topple. Yes, I’ve also had high winds. It’s only Jan. 8 but already this year I’ve had record snowfall, high winds, and flooding. My son-in-law says locusts will be next. So far I’ve lost only one tree. It came down across my front fence.

On Tuesday afternoon as the rain pounded my skylights, I heard from someone who might be interested in adopting Gus, my foster cat. She saw a flyer about Gus that I had posted at my veterinarian’s office and when she asked about him, the staff told her what a fine cat he is. She emailed me, and I called her as soon as I got her message. After talking to her on the phone, I was certain she would give Gus a wonderful home and we arranged for her to come to meet him the next morning. That night the road flooded, so I had to tell her she couldn’t come. I was so disappointed.  We are still waiting for the road to open.

It will be hard for me to let Gus go. He’s been here since September and I’ve grown very fond of him. But my purpose in doing animal rescue work is to find a loving, permanent home for each animal that I help. If I tried to keep them, I’d have to quit doing rescues.

My foster cat room is a large room that’s attached to my house. When my husband was living, it was his workshop where he restored player pianos and other antique musical instruments. After Carl died, I wanted to use that room in some special way. Doing foster care for rescued animals seemed perfect. So far I’ve fostered three cats there and each one has brought activity and happiness back into the space.

I still hear from the woman who adopted Edgar, my first foster cat who was here for six months. Charlie, the second one, was adopted by my friend, Mark, so I get regular reports on him. Charlie even came back to visit for two weeks last summer while Mark was on vacation. Gus is the third occupant and if his adoption happens as I hope it will, I think I’ll be able to keep in touch with his new family, too, because his adopter seems like someone I’d enjoy knowing better. She even has a granddaughter who is a fan of my books.

If the creek goes down and the road reopens, Gus might have a visitor tomorrow. I have my fingers crossed.

I feel as if I am living in a Christmas card. All the trees have snow on their branches; there are mounds of new snow on my driveway; the birds eagerly await their daily suet cake. Usually when it snows here, it lasts 2-3 days. Then the rain returns and everything melts. This time, I’ve had snow for three weeks. Many days – once for five consecutive days – it was so deep that I could not get out of my driveway.  Before the snow from one storm melted, another snow storm arrived, so it kept piling up. In all, I’ve had about two feet of snow.

One morning there were four deer on the brick path that leads to my front door. They were munching on the shrubs that line my path. Usually I have to prune those shrubs; this year the deer are doing it for me. As I write this, I can see a four-point buck out my window, licking sunflower seeds out of one of my bird feeders. My yard is criss-crossed with animal tracks. One morning I followed a raccoon’s paw prints from my front porch all the way down my driveway, through the gate, and on into the road. There are small, medium, and large deer tracks and tracks from Mr. Stray and Lucy.  

 Because of the deep snow and icy roads, I did not drive to my daughter’s home on Christmas Eve, as planned. But they came here! They put chains on their car, loaded up all the gifts and the dog, and made it up my hill. They stayed overnight and we had a lovely Christmas together.

My writer friend, Linda Joy Singleton, mentioned on Facebook that she had read 138 books in 2008. That, of course, made me wonder how many I’d read. I keep a book list so it was easy to count the titles. I read 115 books in 2008 (and one so far in 2009.) I order many titles from my public library but if I read a book that I like a lot, I buy a copy. I want to be able to lend it to friends and to reread it in the future. 

As always, I have made a few New Year’s resolutions. They are not resolutions so much as goals. I try to focus on a few areas where I can improve my life, always keeping with what I can control. I find that if I write these goals on paper, I am more likely to accomplish them. Happy new year to all! 

  

I’ve started writing a new book. As always, I begin with two main feelings: excitement over the possibility of creating a good story, and acknowledgement of how much hard work it will take. I don’t outline my books in advance.  I don’t “pre-write” or create character sketches or do any of the other exercises that are often assigned by creative writing instructors. I don’t mean to imply that such methods aren’t valid; it’s just not how I work. Every writer must find her/his own path.

I usually begin with an incident. In this case, the incident comes from a letter to the editor which appeared in my small local newspaper about two years ago. As soon as I read it, I saw it as book material so I clipped it out and put it in my Ideas Box. Every so often, I read it again and each time, possible scenes occurred to me. A character began to emerge.  My head is a muddle of such future scenes and people, often for more than one book. It’s small wonder that I forget to put out my garbage on collection day.

I’ve seen a draft of the cover for Runaway Twin, and I like it a lot. My only request to the illustrator was to please make the dog on the cover look like the dog I describe in the book. I’m not just being picky. When Pasado’s Safe Haven had a fund raising auction, I donated the opportunity for someone to have their pet in one of my books. The winning bidder asked me to use her dog, Snickers. This dog is in Runaway Twin. I had sent pictures of the real Snickers to my editor, who sent them to the artist.

My fun surprise of the week was that I won a door prize when I attended a benefit lunch for Seattle Children’s Hospital. This is the hospital where my grandson, Mark, had his brain tumor removed. Every year I attend their holiday lunch and donate books for their silent auction. This time I won an ice-cream cake from Baskins Robbins.

I try to answer all mail from readers within a week of when I receive it.  (I answer e-mail within two days.) My efforts to be prompt are sometimes hindered because instead of sending a letter to me, someone mails it to one of my publishers. Those letters are often not forwarded to me for many months.

Yesterday I received a letter that had been forwarded by one of my publishers. It was from two students at an intermediate school in Iowa, and the letter was dated Feb. 5, 2007! That is more than twenty-one months ago! I can’t imagine where it has been all of this time.  Unfortunately, the kids were doing an author report and had sent me their questions.

 I am sorry that these students never got an answer from me. There’s no use replying now. It’s far too late to help them with their report and they are probably not even students there any longer. I’ve learned not to answer mail that’s more than about three months old because too much of it is returned.

My mailing address is on my Web site, as is my e-mail address. If you want to contact me, please use one of those, rather than sending mail in care of the publisher. 

I spent most of today reading the copy-edited manuscript of my next book.  While I was writing it and for months after I sent it in, I referred to it as HOW I WONDER.  Then one day my editor emailed me to say that the publisher didn’t think this title was as strong as my other titles. She wondered if I would consider changing it.

Anyone who has read the story would probably agree that HOW I WONDER is a perfect title but I had to admit it was not a title that would be likely to make kids grab the book and want to read it.  The book is now called RUNAWAY TWIN, and I think it’s a better title than my original.

Between when I submitted my original manuscript and when it came back to me, it had been scrutinized by a copy editor, who made pencil corrections directly on the pages and added several Post-it notes with questions,  comments and concerns.

I am always amazed by what the copy editor finds. For example, I started reading this morning and found that the word windbreaker had been capitalized. It was now Windbreaker. This sent me to my Dictionary where I learned that Windbreaker is a trademark and therefore must be capitalized. Like Kleenex, it has been used so much that we have come to accept it as a generic term, but that is not correct.

There were more capitalization problems. I had capitalized the French in French fries; the copy editor put it in lower case. This sent me back to the Dictionary where I learned that we eat French toast, French dressing, French chops and French pastries. But when we serve potatoes they are french fries. No capital F.

I had also mentioned Vitamin A which, it turns out, is not correct. It should be vitamin A.

I was even wrong when it came to dog breeds. There is a marvelous dog in this book who is part basset hound and part black lab. Or so I thought. It turns out that Snickers is really part basset hound and part black Lab. Capital L.  

 Who would have thought I could learn so much in one day by reading a book that I wrote myself? 

I’ve been laughing ever since I picked up my mail today. There was an orange envelope addressed to Lucy Kehret  (Lucy is my dog) with the return address of “Molly.” Molly, of course, is my cat.  The card inside shows a scowling cat wearing a witch’s hat and a black cape. Inside, the copy reads: “I was going to be a dog for Halloween, but it seemed like too much trouble to have my brain removed.”  The card is unsigned.

I have several friends who could be responsible for this silliness. Eventually, one of them will confess. In the meantime, I’m chuckling. And, since I believe authors and publishers should always get credit for their work, I’ll mention that it is an American Greetings card, with credit to Fun Pix.

My oldest grandchild, Brett, was born on Halloween. She is a freshman this year at Whitman College so I won’t be with her on her special day, but we celebrated together last weekend, and I baked her favorite birthday cake for her. I wrote Horror at the Haunted House because I wanted a Halloween book to dedicate to Brett. 

Because my house is set far back in the woods, with a long, winding driveway, children never come for “trick or treat.” I always buy some candy, just in case.

I will spend part of Halloween trying to solve The Mystery of the Disappearing Cat Toys.  Gus, the foster cat, disposes of his toys as fast as I give them to him. My foster cat room has a concrete floor, so toys move nicely when they are batted. There are several cupboards that have just enough room for a small toy to roll under. The problem is that if I get down on the floor to fish out the toys, I have a hard time getting back up. That’s fine with Gus, who takes advantage of my position to rub against my head and purr. At the moment, I need to look for two fur mice, two stuffed catnip mice, one crinkle ball and one pingpong ball, all of which he has hidden in the last two days.

A few months ago, I bought a new printer. Molly has decided it is really a cat perch, the perfect spot from which to look at the back yard bird feeder. I put a towel on top of the printer, in an attempt to keep it free of cat fur, but that only served to make the perch more comfortable.

I completed my absentee ballot yesterday, and put it in the mail. I began voting absentee when I was doing so much RV travel to talk at schools and libraries, and I much prefer voting that way because I can take my time and research any minor issues that I didn’t know would be on the ballot.

Like most people, I’m tired of the political ads and ready for the whole thing to be over but I’m also encouraged by the excitement that this election has generated. When I was a child, my parents impressed on me that it was the duty and privilege of every citizen to vote in every election.  They took me with them to the polling place at our local school just as I took my children with me when they were small.  Since I became old enough to cast a ballot, I have voted in every election, even those where the only issues were minor local ones, and I still feel a sense of electricity in the air on election day. 

  

Last Friday I was in Portland, Oregon, at a conference of the Washington Library Media Association, to receive the Sasquatch Award for The Ghost’s Grave.  What a wonderful afternoon!  I spent two hours signing books, chatting with librarians, and posing for pictures. The best part was being told how much their students like my books.

Next came the award presentation followed by more great conversation with enthusiastic librarians. What a fine partnership we have!  I write the books to the best of my ability, and they put those books in the hands of the kids who read them. 

I met more great librarians last night at a special event at Children’s Bookshop in Puyallup, WA. I also had a chance to visit with other local authors, which is always a pleasure.

One highlight was a high school senior who arrived carrying a well worn copy of Terror at the Zoo. “This was my favorite book in fourth grade,” she told me, “and when I saw in the newspaper that you were going to be here, I decided to come and have you sign it.”

Tomorrow is the official publication day for Stolen Children. My hope is that it, too, will become some young reader’s favorite book.