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A young reader told me that she loves my books and wants to read all of them, but currently she is not allowed to read anything else of mine because her teacher thinks she needs variety and therefore must read other authors. This made me sad and angry. I would be just as upset if the teacher had told this child she could not read any more books by Andrew Clements or Lois Lowry or any other author, but had to branch out and read Peg Kehret.

This child is reading for pleasure. We should rejoice and encourage her, not limit her choices. I can assure this teacher that I can not write books as fast as a child can read them. Very soon, this girl would run out of my titles and at that point she would choose a different author. Maybe she’d find another one that she likes. Perhaps then she would be bingeing on Richard Peck or David Patneaude. It doesn’t matter! In the long run, if this student is allowed to choose her own reading material, she will get variety. She would actually get a variety of topics and themes even if she read only one of the authors I’ve mentioned, including me.

I keep a list of all the books I read, jotting the title and author in a spiral notebook. After reading this child’s letter, I looked back through my list to see how often I’d gone on a book binge of reading one author. I found several examples. In Dec., 1993, I read G is for Gumshoe by Sue Grafton. In the next two months, I read Grafton’s A, B, C, D, E and F titles. Does that mean I didn’t read anything but Sue Grafton mysteries from then on? Of course not. All it did was bring me up to date so that when the H title came out, I was ready to fully enjoy it. There were similar binges when I first discovered Anne Tyler and Alexander McCall Smith.

I don’t think devouring everything by a particular author makes me a less discerning reader. The first time I read one of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels, I laughed out loud. I immediately got the first book in the series and began reading them in order. By the time I reached #10, I was bored with the same old plot devices. I wanted some character growth. I wanted Stephanie to learn from her mistakes. When it didn’t happen, I quit reading the series.

Much as I enjoy bingeing on a favorite author, the books that have stars beside them in my notebook are all, with the exception of Julia Spencer-Fleming’s wonderful series, stand-alone titles. I’m stingy with my stars, giving them only to books that I truly loved. I’ve given two stars in the last six months, to Lottery by Patricia Wood and to The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery.

I have no problem with assigning specific books that every student in the class is supposed to read, but telling a child she can not read any more books by a particular author is a censorship that I believe is wrong.

Yesterday I did an on-air telephone interview with a TV station in Tallahassee, Florida. The program is Kids Read and yesterday their topic was The Ghost’s Grave.  It sounds exciting and glamorous to be interviewed on live TV, but here is the reality:  In the middle of the interview, while I was answering questions, I heard my cat, Molly, throwing up in the kitchen. Retch, retch, urp, urp. Every cat owner recognizes that awful sound. Lucy, my dog, heard it, too. Yip! Bark! Toenails skittered on the floor as she rushed to the scene. Lucy had been sitting next to me so her barking got broadcast.  I tried not to think about what was going on in the kitchen as I continued the interview.

All authors hope that their books will last. I like to think that some of mine will be in print decades from now. Maybe my great-grandchildren will be able to browse in a book store and find my titles – still available, still selling, still worth reading. The reality, of course, is that most books go out of print fairly quickly.

Some of my books have had staying power; others have not. My first book, Vows of Love and Marriage, was published in 1979. Ten years later it was revised and updated, and published as Wedding Vows. New brides and grooms come along every year, planning their weddings, so there is a steady market. My second book had a print run of only 1500 copies and was never reprinted. Apparently there is more interest in getting married than there is in Refinishing and Restoring Your Piano.

My first book for young people, Winning Monologs for Young Actors, remains in print and continues to have steady sales. It was first published in 1985. Other books have not fared as well. Some, such as my Frightmares series, got caught in publisher mergers beyond my control. Others simply did not generate enough sales. I’ve never been able to predict which titles will be popular and which won’t. One book that I especially like, The Richest Kids in Town, went out of print after only a few years, while my least favorite of my own books (which I won’t name) is still going strong.

I began thinking about this topic because I’ve been using my rhyming dictionary a lot this week. The title is actually The Complete Rhyming Dictionary, published by Doubleday and edited by Clement Wood. I’ve had my copy for over thirty years. Today I looked to see when it had been published. 1936!  The year I was born.

I hope some of my books are still being read seventy-two years after I write them.

My valentine collection is displayed all around my house this week. The big Raggedy Andy doll who sits on a red chair by my front door is holding a much-decorated pink heart made of construction paper and lettered in crayon, “To Papa from Brett. Happy Valentine’s Day 1997.” Brett is my oldest granddaughter; she was seven when she made that valentine for my husband. Other handmade valentines from grandchildren are also treasured, including a terrific poem that Eric wrote for me two years ago.

My oldest valentines are two that my husband’s mother made for her parents when she was fourteen, in 1928. They are decorated with paper doilies. Each contains a poem that she wrote. Today’s teens would find her words syrupy and sentimental, which only adds to their charm.

Other valentines were bought one at a time at various antique shops or thrift stores. Some are dated on the back with the year and place they were purchased. Most have either animal or musical themes and the illustrations are definitely old-fashioned. A dog with a bass drum says, “I want your heart to go Boom! Boom!” Three kittens play instruments (one is an accordian) on a card that says simply, “A Valentine Song.”

One favorite has a small carrot-shaped button attached. It says, “I don’t ‘carrot’ all for the rest of the bunch, but I’m growing fond of you.”  Given my last name, that one is perfect for me!

Valentine’s Day is about love. Carl, the love of my life, is no longer here but the wonderful feelings remain, as do the happy memories.  Yesterday I had lunch with my good friend, Marilyn. After we ate we browsed in an antique mall, and I spent fifty cents for a sweet old valentine.  I’m being treated to dinner tonight by Anne and Kevin, my daughter and son-in-law.  This week my mail box contained many valentines, mostly funny, and I had two e-cards in my Inbox today. I am surrounded by love.  I hope you are, too.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’m often asked what I do when I’m not writing. It’s a hard question to answer because what I did this week isn’t the same as what I did last week, and next week will be different again. Oh, some things are consistent. I read. I walk my dog and take care of my cats. I spend a lot of time answering mail.

Here are a few things that I’ve done in the last seven days:

1. I bought a new digital camera. That was the easy part. The hard part, for me, was figuring out how to transfer the photos to my computer and how to e-mail them.  My first photo was of Flat Stanley, who is visiting me and reporting his adventures to a school in Lincoln, Nebraska. After sending Flat Stanley’s picture, I spent an hour on line looking for a way to recycle my old digital camera, which no longer works.

2. I went to the dentist and then met my grandson and my son-in-law at our favorite pie place. It didn’t seem quite right to go straight from getting my teeth cleaned to eating pie but Eric and Kevin happened to be in Enumclaw, where my dentist is, at the same time I was and I can’t pass up a chance to see them – or a chance to eat pie. I had blueberry almond crunch, and it was delicious.

3. I had a chimney sweep come to clean my chimney. There was much barking by Lucy when the chimney man walked around on the roof.

4.  I was interviewed by two high school students who are making a video about Jonas Salk to enter in a National History Day competition. We met at the Issaquah WA library and did the filming in a conference room. The students had watched the PBS special on polio this week. I saw it, too, although it was extremely difficult for me to watch the segments that showed children receiving the Sister Kenny treatments. Even after all these years, such images fill me with dread. The memories of polio remain strong.

5. Today I baked brownies and made a broccoli salad to serve tomorrow when friends come to dinner. I cut the thick broccoli stalks into chunks and threw them in the grass off my back porch. Withint ten minutes, a Blacktail deer came to eat them.

6. Lucy and I did a litter walk in my neighborhood to pick up trash, mostly beer cans, that had been tossed from car windows. I live in a beautiful wooded area and can never understand why people are willing to spoil that.

7. I listened to the Audio Bookshelf recording of “Escaping the Giant Wave” and I have to admit I enjoyed it.

As you can see, my life isn’t much different than the lives of other people except that during my working hours, I write. I also think about my writing even when I’m doing other things. As I drove to the video interview, for example, I thought of a new plot twist for the book I’m working on, and I had to pause in the middle of chopping broccoli to jot down an idea for a possible future book. 

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.