"Good Enough", by Paula Yoo

One of the features of the SCBWI conference in Los Angeles (and maybe elsewhere, but I wouldn't know it) is the Autograph Party, at the end. We get cupcakes (disgustingly creamy, in my opinion) and can get our copies signed by the authors. Two years ago, I contemplated having the books I'd bought signed, but in the end decided against it. I never feel comfortable in crowds, and this was a BIG crowd, with long lines. This year, I came down with only two copies (the books I wanted to buy had disappeared from the bookstore by the time I got around to buying them) but once I arrived in the ballroom, I almost turned around again. Did I mention I don't like crowds? Or standing in line? That's a French thing, I think. Anyway, I almost left, but then I thought, "Nope, you're going back there and you're going to have these two copies signed, and that's it." I'm getting quite good at this "kicking my own butt thing," aren't I? And I'm so very really glad I did. I got Christopher Cheng to sign his book "Melting Pot" for my daughter. It's the story of a boy who is part Australian, part Chinese, like Chris Cheng himself, set in Sydney, at the beginning of the 20th Century, and written as a diary. I have not finished reading it, yet, but the protagonist, Chek Chee, has a strong voice, and the setting, in the early days of the White Australia policy, is fascinating. Chris Cheng, by the way, gave an informative and very lively presentation about doing research for historical novels.

With my first book signed, I then went to see the lovely Paula Yoo, author of the Young Adult novel "Good Enough." Paula noticed my button with the cover of Amadi's Snowman, and she offered to take my picture to post it on her blog, which she has done. Thanks, Paula.

I started reading "Good Enough" at the conference but was so tired by the time I went to bed that I just couldn't keep my eyes open after a few pages. I then read it during the long flight to New York and really enjoyed it. "Good Enough" is the story of Patti Yoon, a Korean-American whose parents have very high and specific expectations : she must be the best at everything, and particularly the violin in order to get into HARVARDYALEPRINCETON, and of course, dating boys is strictly out of the question. Patti struggles to find her place, understand what SHE really wants - as opposed to what her parents want for her - and make the decisions that may well affect the rest of her life. I totally related to Patti's struggle : music was really big in our family, too. I played the piano, my sister played the violin, and my brother the cello. And when we were not practicing, I would accompany my father as he sang the whole tenor opera repertoire. The pressure to achieve was also high, what with my mother who'd never been to school, and my father who'd had to drop out when he was 15 years old to go and make a living, both of them wanted their children to have what they had not had. Paula Yoo touches these issues - as well as the issue of prejudice - with honesty and an obvious understanding that comes from experience. She also writes with a great deal of humor. Her story is universal and very satisfying to read.

And now, I have two signed copies. Can't wait for next time. I'm hooked.

My belated notes on the SCBWI national conference in Los Angeles

It was fun, fun, fun, fun, fun !
What else?

Well, I got to see old friends, to meet new ones, including one of my critique partners Linda Lodding, an expat like me who lives in Holland. I heard moving, inspiring authors (Bruce Coville comes way up on the list, and Susan Patron, at the end, brought tears to my eyes ), funny editors (Oh, how I envy anyone working with Arthur Levine. Lin Oliver kept saying he's adorable, and she's right, that man is irresistible), and I danced the night away in a red sari.
This was my second time at the conference. I knew my way around, and some people, and so I didn't feel as overwhelmed as the first time. And I managed to sleep at night, so all was well.

Oh, by the way, this year's theme, embedded on the now traditional red band that we received, was : READING IS POWER. How is that for being current?

Here is a personal selection of pictures with a few sporadic and very disorganized notes (some of the pics are dark, but I was never close enough for my little flash.)

Lin Oliver (below) opened the festivities with her usual wit and a few statistics: there were 915 attendants from 44 US states, and 14 countries; 746 were women, 135 were men, and she pointed out that the numbers don't even out to make a total of 915 attendants because there were 96 people whose names did not permit to identify them as belonging to a gender or the other. That drew quite a few laughs, of course. Out of the 915, 402 were published authors. I can't remember whether this was preceded or followed by the traditional parade of the faculty, each person saying a chose word at the mike. 

Bruce Coville gave the first talk titled "The Art of the Heart. Writing True for the Child." He mentioned that kids need heroes, role models provided by children's books. He then listed the Seven Deadly Sins of Bruce Coville (Dullness, Repetition, Cliche "dead and lead on the page, but so easy," Sloth or the necessity to exceed expectations, Inattention, Perfectionism "the enemy of achievement," and Clumsiness.) Then came his personal catalogue of Virtues (Passion, Sensuousness, Wisdom, Guile or the art of distracting your reader to better surprise him or her, Humor, Courage, and Joy.)

He also gave a workshop on "Plotting : The Architecture of Story" during which he climbed and lied down on chairs and all. It was fun as well as instructive. Here he is:

Arthur Levine (above) set out to prove that "Picture Books Live", with a little story and a number of graphs that he obviously enjoyed showing to all these literary people. His talk was really funny and as far as I'm concerned, he gave the conference its "jingle" with his series of "Oh Nooooooo" cried in a high-pitched voice. My friends and I repeated that "Oh Nooooooo" every chance we got even after the conference had closed, to the obvious perplexity of friends and family who wondered what was so funny about crying "Oh Noooooo", and then laughing and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. I now do that in my mind from time to time, because it's just not as funny when your friends are no longer around to share the laugh, but I still like to remember the good time we had being so silly. Thank you, Arthur Levine, for maintaining that "there is still a large audience for Picture Books." A number of editors didn't share your point of view, but I like yours, so that's what I choose to remember.

The Pro Talk allowed published authors (still can't believe I belong to that distinguished club) to display and sell one book published during the year. I got there quite early, but as I approached the table and kind of hovered around for a few minutes, I panicked when I realized that people were not climbing over one another in order to get to my book, and... I ran away. It was sheer torture to be there. I came back much later, and the first person I saw when I entered the room was carrying my book. Boy, oh boy, I literally jumped at him and would have kissed him if I hadn't been loaded with notebooks, books, AND my Macbook (I had spent my hiding-away time using the free wireless internet connexion in the lobby to check emails). Still, I thanked him profusely.

Saturday night was Party time! This year, the theme was "Paint the Town Red, and we certainly did, as you can see below.

And here I am in my red sari, with my dear friend Rilla, acting silly - something we like to do immensely.

One of the beauties of going to a SCBWI conference is that you get to meet lots of like-minded people, read women and men obsessed with writing and/or illustrating books for children. I'm so glad I met Lea Lyon (below), who has illustrated two books for Tilbury House. Her work with watercolors is truly lovely. 


But good things always have an end, and SCBWI conference are not exception. Here is the last picture with my favorite conference pals: Rilla Jaggia seating next to me, who's been my dear friend ever since we met, oh, so serendipitously, at that same conference, two years ago, the very, very talented illustrator, Stephanie Roth Sisson, who was Picture Book page winner of the portfolio showcase (if you were at the luncheon and heard a lot of shouting when her name was mentioned, it was us, at the back of the ballroom) and Stephanie Jefferson, my new friend and super roommate.

These notes are anything but exhaustive. I didn't mention the extraordinary Leonard Marcus, who regaled us with quotes from Ursula Nordstrom (made me want to reread Dear Genius, have to get it out), Rachel Cohn, who talked about "Embracing (and Resisting the Urge to Throttle) Your Inner Teen, and reminded us how self-absorbed teenagers are. "Think how an adult would think or act and do the total opposite", she advised. She was funny, and very touching. Etc, etc...

It was all over too soon. Must now follow the number one rule for all writers : Butt In Chair. And write, write, write... Until next time.

Fate? Coincidence? And who are you climbing trees with this week?

Last summer, I attended my very first SCBWI conference in Los Angeles. It was exciting, fun, inspiring, and totally exhausting. By the time I crashed into bed, I was so full of all that had happened during the day that my mind continued to buzz all night long and I barely got any sleep. I met people who came from all over the world. I heard many different languages being spoken among conference attendees. Thanks to that, and to the genuinely friendly atmosphere, I felt totally at ease, and that's rare enough to be mentioned, as I'm at my most awkward in big groups and crowds.

Where is this going, you ask? Well, on the second evening of the peer critique group session, I arrived a few minutes late and was shown two tables where I could sit. I hesitated a fraction of a second and chose the second one. I sat as discreetly as I could and took out my manuscript. After a few seconds, I noticed that the woman sitting next to me was staring at the address at the top of my first page. I looked at her and found her eyeing me with an air that was part unbelieving part suspicious.

She: "You live in Hyderabad?"
Me: "Yes."
She: "Hyderabad, India?"
Me: "Yes." (starting to think : so what's wrong with that?)
She: "That's my hometown!"
Me, eyes now wide open: "Really ?"
You can imagine the rest.

Coincidence? Fate? Just another proof that our world is so much smaller than we imagine it to be? I'm not a religious person, but I believe in signs, in life sending us signals and even tests. And I don't believe in coincidence, not this type of coincidence anyway. What where the odds that I, currently living in a south Indian city, would sit next to THE person (out of the 600 + attendees) who grew up in that same city, at a children's writers' conference in Los Angeles, California, half a world away? And that it would be precisely at a peer critique group where she was bound to see my address on the first page of the manuscript ? I mean, I sat next to a lot of people at that conference, and we sometimes exchanged a few words, but my situation is so complicated - French and Spanish, writes in English, lives in India, currently vacationing in Florida in order to see my husband's family as the situation in Haiti no longer permits that we travel there with our small children... stop to catch my breath - that I usually chose to give a short cut or it would have taken too long to explain it all within the few seconds or minutes we had between talks or riding the elevator. The way I see it? Life, destiny, wanted me to meet this new friend.

Anyway, Rilla came to Hyderabad to visit family over Christmas, and we saw each other. We ended up climbing the very old Golconda fortification walls at sunrise AND a very tricky, slippery 500-year-old African Baobab tree that I had been unsuccessfully trying to locate for some time. We had an absolute ball, and here we are, in the early Hyderabad morning light, talking, talking, talking :

And my point? Well, I just love that story so much that I can't resist telling it over and over again. And because I just LOVE it when life sends me surprises like that. I consider them an invaluable gift. Because even though Rilla is part American part Indian living now in California, and I'm part French part Spanish living now in India, even though our backgrounds differ quite a lot - our childhoods couldn't have been more different, even if she also read in the dark at night - we share a common passion for writing. We both have an interest in multicultural themes and issues. And I think that we all need to meet, talk and laugh with people who come from different backgrounds - social, religious, racial, etc - and chances are we'd better understand how we can all get along.

At that same conference, one of the authors who really stood out for me was Jacqueline Woodson. The world needs more authors like her, who actively seek not only to denounce, but also to bridge the gap between people. She gave a great presentation, and read her last picture book SHOW WAY. It was so beautiful I had tears in my eyes. Someone asked her a question : "Do you think there are still fences in America today?" She was referring to JW's picture book THE OTHER SIDE, where two girls living in a segregated town strike a friendship in spite of the fences that separate their worlds.

Jacqueline Woodson's answer (I quote from memory, so if anyone who was there reads this and thinks that some words are not exactly the ones she used, please, don't sue me :) : "If you haven't had dinner with a black person or a mixed race person at least once in the past week, then, I'd say there are still fences in America today."

How simple, and yet, how very powerful ! Can the whole world do that ? Make sure that we have dinner - or climb trees - with people from a different race and/or religion, and/or sexual inclination... at least once a week ?