Just a little illustration to tease you

I'm working on a novel geared toward middle-gradish kids (like The Graveyard Book or The Book Thief are considered), and I'll also be illustrating it. I've never written anything of these proportions, and sometimes so many words can be overwhelming to a picture person. A couple of times I felt the need to get away from Word and get back into Photoshop just to keep my sanity and my focus and my love of the story.

I wanted to post one of the illustrations I did for the book, just to tease you a little. If I have my way, the illustration above will cover a two-page spread at the start of the book. The text "Part One: Fliers" will be laid over the image on the right hand page about halfway down, under the bird.

How do people do it?

I'll just say it: I'm tired.

I have a job. I mean, a regular, pack my lunch, get in the car and drive to work kind of job. When the day's over, I'm beat. I didn't used to be that way, but I didn't used to have this many revolutions around the sun under my belt.

I've got ideas. Book ideas. Illustration ideas. Painting ideas. Stuffed animal ideas. Resin figurine ideas. I just don't have the time or the energy to get all these ideas out there.

I'm totally slacking.

I've been spending tons and tons of time writing my novel, and I haven't spent enough time finishing my mailing list, and my postcard mailing is months behind. I have a long list of promo stuff I need to be doing with my Twisted book, but the list is collecting dust in the pile of all the other things I've started lists for.

My office space is a mess. I haven't cleaned in forever because, well, I've been writing a novel which, apparently, consumes a vast majority of one's life.

I've started a list of things I absolutely have to get working on tomorrow. Unfortunately, none of them involve creating anything. My mom used to write to-do lists for herself all the time. She died with a list sitting on her kitchen table.

I have a feeling I'll never get finished either.

Thanks for listening.

Photos while bike riding

Yeah. It probably isn't a good idea to take photos while you're actually moving on the bike, but I couldn't resist.

Great Allegheny Passage from Confluence to Fort Hill. Cleared the cobwebs. Got me focused.

A few days ago I had written about 12 important pages for the end of my latest novel, and they felt like I just wanted to get it done. I thought about them on the trail, about what the problems were, about what questions really needed to be solved better (or solved period) and about what needed more explanation. When I sat down after I got home, I started handwriting ideas out that I didn't want to forget on scrap paper. After the third sheet and I still wasn't finished, I decided to finish up on the computer.

Two pages single-spaced later, I've got problems solved that I didn't even realize I had.

Tomorrow, we write.

A Little Like Shaun Tan

A few weeks ago I finally made my way to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I wasn't there to visit the place, although we have plans of returning next year for actual Gettysburg reasons. So much history. I feel so attracted to something there.

But this post isn't supposed to be about Gettysburg.

I hauled my butt across half the state for an SCBWI conference, and yeah, I came home with lots of thoughts to think loudly about. But I'll attempt to narrow those thoughts down to just one: Jordan Brown.

I had a manuscript critique with Jordan, a Senior Editor at Walden Pond Press and Balzer + Bray, imprints of HarperCollins Children's Books. The story I had written was a short story I had finished for a fiction writing class I took about eight years ago (has it been that long?). My professor at the time loved it, and in his comments at the end wrote, "Get it published."

And yet.

The story wasn't long enough. I knew it wouldn't make a complete book. But, being an illustrator—and pictures are easier for me than words—I had the brilliant idea (I thought, at the time) to pad the short story with pictures to make it long enough. Maybe even convert it into a graphic novel (Mr. Punch-style). Yeah. A graphic novel. Then the words would be at a minimum, and I could tell a lot of the story just using images.

Yeah. Images.

But Jordan didn't really agree.

He was thinking more along the lines of, say, a novel.

"You mean those things with all the words?"

"Those things with all the words."

But there was something in the story he had latched onto. Something he didn't want me to lose as I was writing more. Something he likened to...

Shaun Tan.

Shaun Tan? Really? How could he know?

What he liked about what I had written was all the stuff I hadn't written. How you didn't know when or where the story was taking place. Was it in the past? Or the future? Or was it even on this planet?

He totally got it.

He said it seemed like I was working in the sort of space that Shaun Tan occupies (not bad company to be in), but a very difficult one to break into (not what I wanted to hear).

It wasn't until I read this article in the Guardian today (and written by Neil Gaiman, no less) that I realized how right Jordan was. The paring things down. The fictional landscape. The far future, the distant past.

I had decided before I left the conference to take Jordan's advice and write the whole thing as a novel. He even suggested I take a look at A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, not just for the loss of the protagonist's mother, but also (as I figured out when I got the book) for the illustrations. They're beautiful. I thought, yeah, writing all those words is going to take a while, but I can supplement all those words with some really cool pictures.

Pictures. My comfort food.

But as soon as I finished the book that little doubt devil started spewing into my brain again, and I started growing doubt shoots. Doubts about all those words. A Monster Calls was good. It was really, really good. And heavy (in a deep sense, not in a weight one). Can I really write something as relevant as that? Why am I doubting my writing? Why am I dragging my feet with this story?

What am I afraid of?

I won't be able to start writing for a few days anyway, so in the small spurts of time I have until then, I've decided to absorb a little Shaun Tan. The Rabbits. Tales from Outer Suburbia. The Lost Thing. I'm hoping in the time we spend together Shaun will help me find the confidence I'm thinking must be lurking around here somewhere.

And then after that, if I've been good, I can get back to the pictures.

Surviving a weekend

So I managed to survive the SCBWI conference in Gettysburg over the weekend. Gettysburg is such a fantastic place. I'd never been there, and can't wait to go back. The history is heart-wrenching. I went on a ghost tour. I bought a bullet. I found a picture book in the same shop as the bullet only to see that it had been illustrated by someone I've admired for years. And then I met that very illustrator at the conference (more on him in another post). I cried during E.B. Lewis' keynote speech. An agent saw my portfolio and asked to meet me. What a whirlwind. So many new people, so many new friends, so much to think about.

And so much more to do.

As you can probably tell, I survived my manuscript critique with Jordan Brown (see my misgivings here in an earlier post). He was, despite my fears, terribly helpful and encouraging. I only wish I could have had a recording of everything he said because, of course, I didn't take notes. He was excited and hopeful about my book idea, which made me excited and hopeful about my book idea.

Now the uphill climb begins.

Turns out I tend to make friends easier with editors at these conferences than I do art directors and agents. Not sure why that is. The problem with that is that editors want me to write stuff (ugh!). Pictures aren't good enough; they aren't happy until they've pushed me over that ugly, word-laden hill.

So I guess I'm heading toward the next step in my children's book career. Thanks to Jordan Brown, my next move will be at my computer keyboard writing a novel.

Yes, a novel.

Apparently short stories don't have enough words. Now I have even more of those steep, torturous word-hills to climb.

Did I mention "ugh!"?

I can do this. Nobody's ever croaked from writing a novel, have they?

Someone please tell me I can do this.