Side Swipes and Collateral Damage

If an an attempted ban doesn't succeed, can it really hurt the book/author?

YES.

To talk about why a challenge can be detrimental, I'm taking a page from Jennifer Hubbard, who has an amazing post on this topic.

Neil Gaiman, my hero (swoon), also weighed in on the same topic yesterday.

Mainly it's about fear and the market. Books are a risky business in the first place and the people in charge of acquiring them (particularly librarians) have ever dwindling resources with which to buy books. If a book seems like it might cause a big kerfuffle then it might run the risk of not being acquired, shelved, or sold in the first place. The question thus becomes not "should I pull this book," but "do I dare even acquire this book in the first place?"

Also hooray for Yvonne at The Organic Writer for another great Banned Books Week post and challenge! How many banned books have you read?

Go, Go Graphic Novel!

In further tales of ALA, BEA buzz, the belle of the ball seems to be David Small's graphic novel, Stitches.
I wasn't a comic book kid, though I do have fond memories of perusing my piano teacher's children's cast-off stacks of X-Men while I was waiting for my mom to pick me up. So when it comes to comics and graphic novels I feel like a newbie trying to sneak into a venerated and esoteric society.
I stumbled into the land of graphic novels by way of loyalty to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When Joss Whedon announced the series would continue in Season 8 with Dark Horse Comics, I'd signed up months before the first issue was out.

And I loved the new format instantly. Graphic novels are an incredible medium of communication. The monumental devotion that fans of Neil Gaiman's Sandman display are enough of a testimony to the depth and strength of writing and worlds built by creators of the graphic medium.

With the growing interest in graphic novels, publishers and marketers alike are bringing more and more of the medium to an ever-growing audience.

There's even a Twilight graphic novel in the works.

My question then becomes how does one go from writer to writer of graphic novels/manga? One of my favorite YA authors, Melissa Marr, has manga in the works that complement her novels.

My only brush with this medium is the comic I made for my husband's birthday last year. And while I'm still blushingly proud of the creation, it hardly makes me a graphic novelist.

Who is the keeper of the bridge between novelists and graphic novelists? How does one cross over, or preferably, live a writing life on both sides?

Second Summer

I usually post on the major days of the Wheel of the Year, but given that the Solstice fell on Father's Day this year I was busy taking my dad out to lunch and then making the long drive back to Minneapolis.

So my Solstice thoughts arrive a day late.

There was no way to miss summer's arrival. Stepping out of the door this morning was akin to slipping into a warm bath. Steamy, languid summer air has arrived, that heavy air you could drown in. Not having spent time in the south I don't know if the stereotype of life moving slowly there is true, but on days like this one I can imagine everything slow down as a matter of necessity. The thick, wet air forces you to wade from one activity into another. Speed becomes impossible. Even deadly.

I don't enjoy extreme heat, but I respect its insistence and in light of the Solstice, it feels appropriate.

The other harbinger of summer received my delighted yip at the market.

Heirloom tomatoes. I love earth-fresh tomatoes, and particularly heirlooms. I love their bizarre, asymmetrical shapes and their sharp, leafy scent. And their deliciousness is marked by how briefly they are available.

At the end of Neil Gaiman's latest blog post, he declares that out of season strawberries should be illegal. Now I'm already a loyal Gaiman subject, but he couldn't be more justified in this opinion.

Those of us in the northern climes face a barren winter of vegetables and fruit. Strawberries in winter are a mockery of the real thing. The closest I can come to describing their taste is "nothing with an edge of tart." I'll confess that I still break down and buy them when I'm mired in January or February - the dream of a real strawberry and luscious summer proves too hard to resist. But always, always it's a horrible disappointment that makes winter that much more painful.

When I was a little girl I would crawl through the grass on hot summer days, face low to the ground seeking the wild strawberry plants that would vine out on the lawn. These tiny treasures, no larger than a thimble, are still the sweetest red berries I've tasted.

Welcome summer, I've been waiting. Here's an anthem for you.

Research Tactics

One of the things I've discovered through writing are the myriad ways in which my interests in history tie into the novels I create. In the many blogs I read, writers bemoan the frequency with which their creative efforts aren't recognized as "work" by non-writers, but are instead dismissed as a "hobby."

I empathize with this frustration, though I'm fortunate to have family and friends who understand the blood, sweat, and tears that go into writing. Part of the heavy lifting that happens as I write is the research involved in constructing a living, breathing world. To have a well-crafted tale requires significant investment of time and detective work well beyond one's own writing. Each writer creates his or her own methods to get from blank page to finished manuscript.

I began to mull over this process when I read Neil Gaiman's blog entry yesterday. When queried about his research for The Graveyard Book, he mentioned Carlo Ginzburg's The Night Battles. Upon reading this citation I hooted in triumph - I teach this text in my upper level history courses when discussing the intersection of religion and the occult in early modern societies. But I also began to wonder about the whys and wherefores of research for novels - and even more than the whys, the whens.

When and how do you research?

My novels evolve from characters and scenes that seize me, and when I say "seize" I'm not exaggerating. I spend a lot of time daydreaming and often a new character will appear in my mind, demanding all of my attention, with whatever thought, feeling, or problem he or she is facing and the threads of a book begin to weave a pattern in my mind. The novel is the finished tapestry woven from those first threads.

In my writing research adds fine detail to the tapestry and assists my characters in their movement through the plot. My characters hand me research questions to answer, I have yet to encounter a writing project where the birth of a novel was predicated on research. In my current project, the protagonist struggles with her rigidly-structured life, which sent me hunting for philosophies of governance and the natural world. At the end of the day Thomas Hobbes became a major figure in my writing, but he wasn't there at the beginning of the story.

Research gives flesh to the bones, but the essence of the story existed first.

Music Lit Convergence

Happiness is learning that there will be a musical version of Coraline composed by none other than Stephen Merritt (Magnetic Fields). Sigh, smile, giggle....when wonderful worlds collide.

My Big Fat Geek Movie Weekend

One of the nice things about having a Ph.D. and a job is that I no longer feel compelled to construct an exterior persona that depicts my own self as anything other than the exuberant nerd that I am. (I wish I could have claimed this level of self-awareness and rejection of normative consumption earlier in life, but alas, I was insecure.)

In my younger days I kept my passions close to the chest, reticent except for my vehement defense of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I could no sooner supress than a geyser eruption. But now I frolic through fields of comic books, graphic novels, their web sites, television, and film adaptations. In fits of ecstasy I plot my pilgrimages to children's book conferences, Comic-Con, and Worldcon. And sometimes the convergence of events makes for a particularly exciting circumstance.

Case in point: This weekend features the release of two movies I am dying to see. Coraline is the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman's fantastically scary children's book, and Fan Boys is a road-trip homage to Star Wars fiends like myself.

If you're looking for me this weekend, I will be worshiping the silver screen with much abandon.

Neil Gaiman at the Grocery Story

Since my last post celebrated Neil Gaiman's Newberry, I thought I'd trot out my too-frequent thoughts about a real life encounter with he-who-I-wish-was-my-mentor. These day-time musings emerged to haunt my thoughts when I learned that Gaiman lives near the Twin Cities (which automatically made me feel cooler by association, since I live in the same place that he does).

So here is the scenario of what would happen should Andrea run into Neil Gaiman at the grocery store, or Spyhouse, or the Electric Fetus, MIA, my office at Macalester (these are places that I go, I have no idea where Neil Gaiman spends his time in the Minneapolis/St. Paul region. He certainly has not shown up at my office):

I am in the produce section holding a pomegranate and thinking about Persephone. A person next to me picks up another pomegranate and turns it over in his hand. I look up and my jaw drops. Neil Gaiman, being a polite person, smiles in a civil way and takes another pomegranate. Because pomegranates are wonderful and of course having more than one is a nice idea.

I stare and wait for the floor to open up so that Neil Gaiman and I are swallowed by Twin Cities Below (is there a Twin Cities Below Mr. Gaiman?). Whenever this happens we wander through the underworld and I save Neil Gaiman from the giant mosquito or rabid loon that guards the labyrinth, which I'm certain is located beneath the Walker Art Center's sculpture garden. Mr. Gaiman returns happily to his family and, grateful for my heroics, offers to critique my writing and introduce me and my novel to his agent.

But the floor doesn't open up and I am still gaping at Neil Gaiman.
"Oh my god, you're Neil Gaiman," I say.
His smile becomes gracious. "Yes."
I am still staring. Neil Gaiman shuffles his feet.
"Oh my god, you're Neil Gaiman." I say again. I am unable to blink.
Neil Gaiman grips the pomegranate more tightly and looks at the bananas like they are an escape hatch.
The flood gates open. "My name is Andrea and Neverwhere changed my life. I write and I really want to get published, and did I mention that American Gods changed my life. I write YA urban fantasy and did I mention that the Graveyard Book changed my life. And I hope your dog feels better soon, my dog's had a hard time lately too. He's a pug so his sinuses completely freeze in the winter and he can't breathe. And did I mention how much I love Sandman and that what you write about writing helps me to write. Did I mention that I'm trying to be a writer? Congratulations on your Newberry."
I take a breath and notice that Neil Gaiman isn't standing in front of me any more, but there is a pomegranate rolling along the floor. I am devastated because Twin Cities Below must have taken him but not me.

I sigh and wander into the tea/coffee aisle. I convince myself that the conversation went very well. The next day I am served a restraining order.

Alas, alas I should not meet Neil Gaiman, lest I end up a mirror-image of that crazy fangirl from Flight of the Conchords. My writing career would surely be over before it began.

Gaiman's Newberry

I just read Neil Gaiman's post that his Graveyard Book won the Newberry. I almost started jumping up and down and shrieking, but I'm in my office so no dice. But I'm shrieking on the inside, more than thrilled as he is my #1 writing role model. Grats, Neil Gaiman I'm laughing and swearing too!