My article “Hitting the Ground of Joy” (Horn Book May/June 2012) (1) takes a look at what Robert Louis Stevenson in his essay “The Lantern Bearers” (2)called “recondite joys,” which are singularly beloved by a few but obscure and even ridiculous to others. Because the Horn Bookeditors know their jobs, they trimmed a little bit off the end of the essay to give it a little more strength, but I thought it might be fun (instructive? not sure) to post the last two paragraphs here:

Not just a recondite joy

“The trouble with trying to find lanterns in these books is that writers have the bad habit of trying to make things fit together in a consistent and meaningful narrative. Blame Chekhov. Just because you have a gun hanging above the mantle, do you really have to use it? Things that we might at first be tempted to consider lanterns reveal themselves, by the end of the story, as symbolic of something, or foreshadowing something else. Even Harriet’s notebook is useful for something, which a smoldering and pungent fire hazard certainly is not. I wouldn’t argue for complete narrative chaos, but to say that one might do his homework by the glow of his bulls-eye lantern seems to be beside the point.

So perhaps we have to look for our lanterns in picture books, where joy is accepted at its face value and there just aren’t enough pages to tempt the writer to assign secret or transcendent meanings to things. Why does Jan Thomas’s Fat Cat absolutely have to sit on something (or someone)? Why does the narrator of I Must Have Bobo! want Bobo, anyway, and why is the cat so determined to have Bobo, too? Because sitting on your friends is fun, and Bobo equals joy, simple as that, as any self-respecting lantern bearer will tell you.” (3)

This essay is also where I reveal my very favorite book from childhood, although I don’t say it explicitly: Two P’s in a Pod, by Susan Terris (Greenwillow, 1977). Long and sadly out of print, even at the time I first read it, it’s one of the first books I remember that allowed me to get right inside the main character’s mind. It also introduced me to Anna Karenina (although I didn’t read that one at age ten). I’m working up a longer post on Two P’s because I think it deserves not to be forgotten.

1. See what’s in the May/June issue here. The full essay isn’t available to read online, but you can read Uma Krishnaswami’s essay on humor and multicultural literature. (My interview with Uma is here.)

2.  Stevenson’s essay “The Lantern Bearers.” I first read about it in William’s James’s essay “On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings,” from his Talks to Students on Some of Life’s Ideals.

3. My own interview with Jan Thomas. Look for a post soon about her visit to my library for El dia de los ninos/El dia de los libros, along with Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw.


Carolee Dean (Take Me There; Simon Pulse 2010) and Caroline Starr Rose (May B., Schwartz & Wade, 2012) gave a talk on writing novels in verse at Alamosa Books in Albuquerque on April14. May B. is a middle-grade historical novel in verse (1); Carolee’s newest book, Forget Me Not, is a YA paranormal verse novel and  comes out in October from Simon Pulse (2).

This event was part of the monthlong celebration of National Poetry Month, and it very fittingly began with the winners of Alamosa Books’ kids’ poetry contest. I won’t reveal any kids’ names here, but two of the winning poems were read by their authors: “The Way of the World” and “Daisy in the Wind,” and if you were hoping to see a bunch of adults tear up on a Saturday afternoon, it was the place to be. Winners were awarded books and class visits from Caroline and Carolee.

Some thoughts from Caroline on why a writer might use verse to tell a story (in extreme paraphrase):

Poetry speaks to our emotions, which makes it an ideal way to tell an

"As spare as the life it reflects"

emotional story. Caroline was reading the writings of prairie women and realized that their spare, plain language was a reflection of their spare, plain lives; it was also a perfect way to tell May’s story.

Because every word comes at a high cost, it forces a writer to cut to the marrow of a story. Poetry asks a lot of the writer in terms of rhyme schemes, effective imagery, and general ruthlessness towards one’s words. It’s not for every writer, and it’s not for every story. A good writing day might produce 300 words.

Narration of a verse novel is very close, which is why it conveys emotion so well. Verse captures images well, as if the narrator were a still camera; think of prose as a video camera. A verse novel is a series of single poems that work together to form a coherent and meaningful whole.

If you want to write a verse novel, consider the following:

Can each poem stand alone? Does each poem also contribute to the story?

Think of a quilt: each square adds to the whole. As you add squares, a picture or pattern emerges.

Vary the length of lines & poems. Match your words to your scene (good advice for all kinds of writing). For example: when May is running, the lines are short and fast.

Consider the white space: form is as important in poetry as meaning.

A high school full of ghosts

Carolee talked about the history of verse stories (not as new as you’d think!) and techniques for writing in verse.

Early stories were often told in verse: think of Homer, Virgil, Ovid, and the Beowulf poet. Groundbreaking verse novels in our own time include Virginia Euwer Wolff’s Make Lemonade trilogy and Karen Hesse’s Newbery winner, Out of the Dust.

What does a verse novelist need? Some of the same things a prose novelist needs. A good story is essential. (John Gardner would agree with that one–no hiding behind pretty words (3)).

A verse novelist might use a traditional form like terza rima but arrange the lines in such a way that the rhyme scheme isn’t obvious; this changes the way a poem appears and sounds.

Alliteration and assonace: these are some of the basic tools of verse, and prose writers can make use of them, too. Alliteration: words that start with the same letter sounds. Assonance: words with the same vowel sounds.

Thanks, Carolee and Caroline, for an informative and fun afternoon!

Other novels in verse, for research purposes and plain enjoyment:

Home of the Brave by Katherine Applegate

Exposed by Kimberley Marcus

Love That Dog by Sharon Creech

Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai

Wicked Girls: A Novel of the Salem Witch Trials by Stephanie Hemphill

All the Broken Pieces by Ann Burg

T4 by Ann Clare LeZotte

Other authors:

Ellen Hopkins

Jen Bryant

Sonya Sones

Ron Koertge

Carol Lynch Williams

1. Caroline’s web site.

2. Carolee’s web site.

3. That John Gardner quote again.

Cynthia Leitich Smith (1) visited Alamosa Books in Albuquerque in early March on her tour for Diabolical (Candlewick, 2012). Cynthia is the author of the YA Tantalize series (Tantalize, Eternal, Blessed, and Diabolical),  the Tantalize graphic novels, and several books for younger readers. She also has a story (co-authored with Joseph Bruchac) in the recent collection Girl Meets Boy: Because There Are Two Sides to Every Story (Chronicle, 2012), edited by Kelly Milner Halls.

If you’re an aspiring children’s writer and you haven’t visited Cynthia’s website or Cynsations, the blog that one might refer to as kindness itself for writers, well, you have a lot to look forward to.

I had seen Cynthia speak before, but this event was an opportunity to be part of a conversation on books and writing with a group of writers, many of whom have been part of my NM Centennial interview series (2). Here’s some of what came out of that discussion:

Early performance is not necessarily a predictor of eventual success: Cynthia mentioned getting a lot of ribbons for participation in poetry as a child.

Playing to trends is a crapshoot: she received rejection letters for early fantasy works that said children weren’t interested in reading fantasy anymore. And they still aren’t, right? What, who’s Harry Potter?

Don’t let others define you: when Cynthia wanted to write something other than contemporary fiction with Native American characters (Cynthia is a tribal member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation), she was told by an industry professional that her new fantasy writing “is not who Cynthia Leitich Smith is.” 

The Kill Draft: Cynthia has seen a lot of people cringe, gasp, and possibly burst into tears when she tells them that she throws away her first drafts and writes the entire manuscript over. No one else seems to want to do this! Cynthia says that  you can do “bigger, riskier things” if you get rid of that first draft, and you can begin again writing “in a looser way.”

We are always learning our craft: Cynthia mentioned Paula Danziger as a writer who showed improvement in every book throughout her career. Through the process of writing and learning, we can “earn courage.”

You will achieve everything you want in life if you watch Star Wars 384 times in the theatre.* Sadly, this option is not available for those of us who can’t travel backward through time.

*This may not be an exact quote. I can’t promise you everything. But this is the number of times Cynthia saw Star Wars in the theatre, and things have worked out very well for her.

Thanks to Cynthia for a thought-provoking afternoon, and to the staff at Alamosa Books for being wonderful hosts!

1. Visit Cyn’s website and blog.

2. To read the series so far, go here.

I recently acquired five new books (by which I mean, five old books) and they have inspired me to be lazy. Not a contradiction in terms! Here are five quotes, one from each of these books on–what else?–books and reading. They represent several different viewpoints: reader, writer, philosopher, critic; and differing temperaments, from the Great Books approach to the love of reading for its own sake. But they are all nifty in their way, and one of them mentions sandwiches.

 In response to the question What makes a book great?

“Great books are those which contain the best materials on which the human mind can work in order to gain insight, understanding, and wisdom. Each in its own way raises the recurrent basic questions which men must face. Because these questions are never completely solved, these books are the sources and monuments of continuing intellectual tradition.

“Carl Van Doren once referred to great books as ‘the books that never have to be written again.'”

Adler, Mortimer. Great Ideas from the Great Books. Washington Square Press, 1961.

“The ways in which reading fulfills its aims beyond the immediate verbal encounter are necessarily mysterious. In exploring them we explore, though unscientifically, some of the operations of consciousness itself, especially those having to do with perception and memory. We have to ask not only how we translate a symbolic code, but also what is the effect upon us of the translation process and the translated content? How do we make use of our own experience when we engage a novel? To what extent are we present in the content of what we read? How do we store what we’ve read, and how do we draw upon our reading memory over time? For it is one book we close the covers on today, and quite another after some months or years have passed. The words on the page don’t change, but we do, and our ‘reading’–the experience we had over the duration of our encounter with the book–has the plasticity of any memory.”

Birkerts, Sven.The Gutenberg Elegies: The Fate of Reading in an Electronic Age. Fawcett Columbine, 1994.

“A public that tries to do without criticism, and asserts that it knows what it wants or likes, brutalizes the arts and loses its cultural memory. Art for art’s sake is a retreat from criticism which ends in an impoverishment of civilized life itself.”

Frye, Northrup. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. Princeton UP, 1957.




“Fiction seeks out truth. Granted, it seeks a poetic kind of truth, universals not easily translatable into moral codes. But part of our interest as we read is in learning how the world works; how the conflicts we share with the writer and all other human beings can be resolved, if at all; what values we can affirm and, in general, what the moral risks are. The writer who can’t distinguish truth from a peanut-butter sandwich can never write good fiction.”

Gardner, John. The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers. Vintage, 1985.

“If once in a while the beginning writer does something interesting with language–shows that he’s actually listening to himself and looking closely at words, spying out their secrets–that is sign enough of the writer’s promise. Only a talent that doesn’t exist at all can’t be improved. Usually. On the other hand, if as readers we begin to suspect that the writer cares about nothing but language, we begin to worry that he may be in for trouble. Normal people, people who haven’t been misled by a faulty college education, do not read novels for words alone. They open a novel with the expectation of finding a story, hopefully with interesting characters in it, possibly an interesting landscape here and there, and, with any luck at all, an idea or two–with real luck a large and interesting cargo of ideas. Though there are exceptions, as a rule the good novelist does not worry primarily about linguistic brilliance–at least not brilliance of the showy, immediately obvious kind–but instead worries about telling his story in a moving way, making the reader laugh or cry or endure suspense, whatever it is that this particular story, told at its best, will incline the reader to do.”

Gardner, John. On Becoming a Novelist. Harper & Row, 1983.

This is part of a series of interviews with New Mexico children’s writers in honor of the 2012 centennial.

kersten hamiltonKersten Hamilton writes picture books, middle grade, and YA. Her most recent book is In the Forests of the Night (Clarion, 2011), number two in her series, The Goblin Wars. A brief encapsulation: Irish mythology lands smack in the middle of the present day, and Teagan Wylltson is one of YA fantasy’s smartest heroines.

Welcome, Kersten! You can put your wings over there in the corner.

Your book Police Officers on Patrol is a great example of a picture book with rhythm, a nice balance of variation and repetition, and an economy of wording that gets the story across and gives plenty of room to let the illustrations do their work. What are your thoughts on picture book creation, and do you secretly long for the days of yore when you could write a 3000-word picture book and your friends at SCBWI meetings wouldn’t laugh?

I’m so glad you like Police Officers on Patrol! I loved writing that book. I pitched it to my publisher as “nitty-gritty for the itty bitty”, a cop show format of three storylines all resolved in 138 words.

Writing picture books is like blazing a path through the wilderness that stretches between oral tradition and the written word. Your audience is comprised of sophisticated thinkers and story connoisseurs who lack only reading skills. Learning to track those letters across the page is one of the most difficult things they will ever do. Picture book writers have the ability to make that work worthwhile.

Whenever I sell a picture book, my novelist self sends my picture book self a box of truffles and congratulations. Hurray! (I tell myself) This book will capture wild toddlers and transform them into civilized readers!

I’ll answer the 3000 word picture book issue with your next question…

How do you whittle down the text of a picture book, knowing that it has to be a certain length? Or is it less a whittling process than a building process?

I’m a whittle–upper. When I am writing for the very young, I use repetition, rhythm and meter and that naturally limits the length of the book.

But when I picture storybooks, they sometimes bulge beyond their bounds. I had a lovely 2000 word picture book that was simply too long to sell. When I sat down to make it publishable I accidentally added 70,000 words. Since I am a whittle-upper, I couldn’t take them out again. I had to sell it as a YA novel. (So that’s the secret…)

Who are some of your favorite writers, both in the fantasy genre and in other genres?

I indulge in time travel. It says so right on the front of my business card: Kersten Hamilton, Author–Adventurer. Time Travel, Goblin Hunting and Paranormal Investigations. I can only travel into the future at one second per second, but the past is an open book. I’ve met people like Shakespeare, George MacDonald, Charles Williams…there is always someone new and exciting to discover in the past.

If you answered Tolkien or Lewis as part of your answer to the last question, you anticipated this one: Tolkien and Lewis loom over the landscape of quest fantasy, as well as that of certain domains of literary and historical scholarship. What it is about their work that still holds sway over readers today?

Well, I didn’t list them but I love them both.(Half-credit for The Chained Library. Darn.)What still holds sway over readers? They baptized imaginations. On purpose. What does that mean? Kerry L. Dearborn writes of C.S. Lewis’ own experience of having his imagination baptized by a book: “Rather than leading him into an escape from reality, it washed away blinding scales and gave him a new vision of reality. Rather than providing mere ornamentation for a life which for him held no lasting significance, it led him to sense the enduring goodness at the heart of all things. Instead of feeding his sense of being alone in the vastness of the universe, Phantastes began to draw him out of himself to feel a fundamental connection with all of creation.”

I love George MacDonald more than I love Lewis and Tolkien put together.

Lewis’s wrote: “I know nothing that gives me such a feeling of spiritual healing of being washed as to read MacDonald.”

Yeah. Me, too.

Suddenly I want to rush out and read The Princess and the Goblin. Wait a second…goblins…

When you let out your inner Inkie and attend MythCon, are you there as a reader and a writer? That may sound a little dumb, but I mean, do you go specifically thinking that you’ll get some nuggets or research for a project?

Both! I went to mingle and marvel at professors and other folk who love the same things I love—and are much, much smarter than I am. As I wandered the hotel halls, I had a certain project in mind that I am not nearly smart enough and certainly not educated enough to write. I’m going to write it anyway.

Your teen novels are based on Irish mythology. Why Irish?

Because it suits my pseudo Celtic worldview: I do not separate the natural from the supernatural.

What do you think of the myth craze in YA fiction these days?

I enjoy it…when the books are well thought out and executed. And hate it when they are tripe.

Do you wonder if readers go and read the original myths after reading a fictionalized version? How can I say this without sounding like, well, a librarian: Do you think that readers should read the originals as well?

I know that some of my readers do, and it thrills me. I am working to connect them with the flow of literature through time. I want them thinking, hmmm. Why did she choose this instead of that? Why did she change this little piece?

My end goal to inspire future writers to who go on to write wonderful books…that I then get to read.

The professor’s question (in honor of Vaunda Nelson’s bookselling great-uncle): If you had to start a bookstore with 5 books, what would they be? These aren’t necessarily your 5 favorite desert-island-style books, but the 5 books you’d most like the world to read.

Considering my answer to the last question, I think I’d better choose books that have spawned many, many stories in the past—because they would have to seed a whole bookstore of books for me to read!

1. The Bible. The single most influential book in Western literature. You won’t understand Chaucer or Spencer or Tolkien without it.

2. A collection of Fairy Tales from every tribe and nation. We gather our cultural wisdom and preserve it in fairy tales.

3. A collection Myths and Legends from every people and place. We explore our beliefs about ourselves and our environment in myth and legend.

4. The Jungle Book by Kipling. I just like Kipling. Have you ever tried it?

5. Where the Wild Things Are – what other picture book would be so at home on an imaginary island?

Since this is part of a series on NM writers, what are some of your favorite books set in NM? Favorite NM writers, children’s or adult?

I’m going to stick to dead people because we have many wonderful writers living in and writing about NM today. I don’t want to be embarrassed by forgetting anyone.

The top of my list would be Tony Hillerman. Tony was one of the greatest gentlemen I have ever had the honor to know. I want to be him when I grow up.

Jack Williamson. The Dean of Science Fiction. He came to NM on a covered wagon, and took his readers on spaceships to the stars!

Lew Wallace. Okay, Ben Hur wasn’t that great, but how many states can claim that their Governor neglected his duties in order to write a best selling novel while in office? Yep. We are the only one.

You are known for saying incredibly intelligent things in interviews. Say something incredibly intelligent about, I don’t know, Aristotle.

Gah! You are tweaking me because I accused Aristotle of dabbling his skeletal fingers in our YA literature on Uma’s blog, aren’t you? (Important note: I do not tweak my guests, virtual or otherwise.)

Plus, I have never heard anyone claim that I say intelligent things in interviews. Mostly I hear them say, “Er…you promised me that interview by 5 p.m. today. It’s 4:45. Have you started on it yet?”

Thank you for having me on your blog today, Rebecca!

Thanks for being here! Read Uma Krishnaswami’s interview with Kersten here, and another interview with Kersten at The Enchanted Inkpot (where you will see more incredibly intelligent responses).

Image of Kersten Hamilton courtesy of Rio Rancho Public Library and ALA Graphics (and, of course, Kersten Hamilton).

This is part of a series of interviews with New Mexico children’s writers–and now illustrators–in celebration of the 2012 state centennial.

Lesson for the day, and possibly for all time: you never know what you’ll get unless you ask. In that spirit, I’m very happy to present an interview with an artist I like to call the Queen of Toddler Time, Jan Thomas. Jan ThomasJan’s books are hardly ever on the shelf at my library, and when they do come back, you can tell they’ve been read within an inch of their lives. With bright colors and simple layouts, foolish yet earnest characters, and interactive fun, these are the books that will bring 2022’s teens furtively into the picture book section and send them giggling into a corner, the way they do today with The Stinky Cheese Man. Welcome, Jan!

I know next to nothing about visual art (forgive me). Can you describe your style and media to me, so that I don’t make some embarrasing gaffe?

I start off by doing lots and lots of sketches.  (I have stacks of sketchbooks piled high in my studio..)  Then I take the sketches that look like they might have potential and redraw them several times (ten times seems to be the magic number). Next I scan them into my computer and do more finished drawings using a drawing program (Adobe Illustrator).  I send the files off to my editor and she makes comments and we go though many revisions that way.  

I do love the saturated colors that you can get with digital art. It makes every so super-cartoony.

Like Mo Willems’s Elephant and Piggie, your characters have a sort of green-screen existence: they might be anywhere, with those solid color backgrounds. Is it a purposeful choice, to allow readers to imagine their own settings, or to concentrate on the characters more?

Let's count goatsI have a real ‘less is more’ approach to my books.  My goal is to create books that are light and fun and not at all intimidating.  I’m striving for a toy-like quality that hopefully will make kids think reading=fun. I also like the idea of using my books for story time and the green-screen look works well for that.  I really emphasize facial expressions and I think much of that emphasis would be lost if I had too much detail.  I do appreciate children’s books that have great amounts of detail, but that’s not what I’m after.

It wasn’t done in a laboratory or anything, but I have evidence that your observation about storytime books is absolutely true. It really draws kids into the action.

It’s easy to recognize a Jan Thomas book at a hundred paces, but I bet it’s not easy to come up with such a distinctive style. How did you develop the JT look?what will fat cat sit on

I’m not exactly sure how I developed it, but I can’t seem to undevelop it.  I think I’ve been drawing this way since I was 3 years old.
If it ain’t broke…

What’s your background or training?

I studied graphic arts at Oregon State University.  I worked as an illustrator at the NM Natural History Museum and as a cartographer and graphic artist at NM Tech.  I also did a syndicated comic strip with my husband for a while. I think doing the comic strip made me focus on simplifying things and stripping things down to the most essential parts.

can you make a scary faceThe choreographer Twyla Tharp called art “a vast democracy of habit.” I love this because it points out the side of art that people
(non-artists, let’s say) tend to overlook: at some point, you have to sit down and actually do the thing. What are some important features of your creative process?

I like going on long walks or runs or bike rides when I’m in the idea stage of a book.  It may seen like I’m goofing off, but the ideas flow much more effortlessly than when I’m sitting at my desk. When I’m in the drawing stage, I listen to music.  I tend to stay in my seat much longer if there are great songs that I want to hear.   

Working in picture books is truly interdisciplinary, since a picture
book has to be a perfect match of text and image. What are your thoughts on picture book creation? Favorite picture books & creators?let's sing a lullaby with the brave cowboy

I guess I’m drawn to books that are very simple but have great (often interactive) concepts.  Some of my favorite picture books are: THE MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK, PRESS HERE, TICKLE THE DUCK, I WANT MY HAT BACK,  CAPS FOR SALE and BARK GEORGE.  

Since this is part of a series on New Mexico children’s writers (and now illustrators), do you have any  favorite books set in New Mexico?

I think Tony Hillerman books made me move to New Mexico (I LOVED them.).  Neecy Twinem’s picture book E IS FOR ENCHANTMENT is wonderful too.     

here comes the big mean dust bunnyThe professor’s question (in honor of Vaunda Nelson’s great-uncle): If you were to start a bookstore with 5 books, which would you choose? They aren’t necessarily going to be your five favorite, desert-island-style books, but the 5 books that you would most want to spread to the world.

It would have to be 5 Pippi Longstocking books.  I read Pippi books over and over as a child.  She is my hero.

Suddenly I want nothing more than to see a Jan Thomas Pippi. I liked Lauren Child’s, but I have the feeling that yours would show the appropriate amount of insanity.

You’re a SCBWI-NM success story. Do you have words of hope, inspiration, or warning for the rest of us?

I guess . . . keep plugging away . . . and cross your fingers!  (It was pure luck that I submitted my first book to the right editor at the right time.)a birthday for cow

When is the new Jan Thomas book “Daisy the Librarian Cow” coming out? Will it come out any faster if I give you some Pringles?

Pringles??!!!  I’ll get get cracking on the book right away!

They’re in the mail.

Thank you so much, Jan!

Visit Jan’s website here. Read her books anywhere.

For a wonderful in-depth interview, read 7-Imp’s interview with Jan.

You may have seen some of the most recent work by illustrators Leo and Diane Dillon:

never forgotten The author, Patricia C. McKissack, won a Coretta Scott King author honor for Never Forgotten (Schwartz and Wade, 2011).

 The Dillons’ reimagining of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ The Secret River (Atheneum, 2011) is sheer beauty. The story was published originally in 1955, but I bet it wasn’t this good-looking.secret river

But have you seen any of their early illustrations, predating their historic 2-year Caldecott shut-out in 1976 & 1977? (1)

Here’s their crewel-work cover for Carson McCullers’ The Member of the Wedding (orginally published 1948; this snazzy edition was put out in 1965 by Time Incorporated) (2).

member of the wedding

The detailed stitching pretty much begs for the large file size.

Interestingly enough, in this, the year of A Wrinkle in Time’s 50th anniversary, I should point out that the Dillons also illustrated a cover for that book in 1979, as did Ellen Raskin, who created the first iconic cover for the 1962 hardback, which I mention in my first post on these cover-designers-turned-children’s-book-illustrators-and-sometimes-authors (3).

Thanks again to the free cart at my library for offering up this little jewel.

1. Check out a range of the Dillons’ covers here.

2. Why, I wonder, is the cover design copyrighted by Time Incorporated? The Dillons’ stitched their names on the back cover, and are given credit on the verso, but not the copyright. Was that simply a feature of doing cover work for large companies like Time that made a business of reprinting earlier works?

3. You can find that post here.

This is the fourth in a series of interviews with children’s writers in New Mexico for the state centennial.

What's for Dinner?

Katherine B. Hauth is the author, most recently, of What’s for Dinner? Quirky, Squirmy Poems from the Animal World (Charlesbridge, 2011, illustrated by David Clark). If you’ve always suspected that nature isn’t all lions lying down with lambs, this is the volume of poetry for you. Its 29 poems, with titles like “Four Ways to Catch a Seal,” cover the range of animal eating habits, and let’s just say that it’s not all vegetarian. Katherine has included a section in the back explaining some of the terminology in the poems, as well as a brief note about the subjects of each poem for young zoologists. What’s for Dinner? was a Junior Library Guild selection, a 2011 NM Book Award for juvenile literature,  an Outstanding Science Trade Book selection by the National Science Teachers Council and is on the master list for the Lee Bennett Hopkins Penn State Poetry Award. Welcome, Katherine. On to the questions.

One of the questions I have about poetry is this: what, exactly, is it? This isn’t the hopeless or meanspirited question that it seems to be. I’m always interested in what poets have to say about their forms, because poetry is such a rich area of literature, and I think it’s often misunderstood (maybe just by me). When you’re not writing in the kind of strict forms that we study in school, how do you know that what you’re writing is poetry? What separates poetry from short snatches of prose?

 I’ve been thinking about this lately as prose poems and books in verse growKatherine Hauth more dominant, and the lines between them become less distinct. With today’s more flexible boundaries, I’m afraid it’s easier for a poet to lose the carefulness, the edge, and for a would-be poet to never achieve it.

When I write poetry, I’m especially attentive to word meanings and sounds, the rhythm of the lines relative to the subject, and to form on the   page. One tends to these things in prose too, but in poetry, more so. In poetry I also get to play with form, upper and lower cases, punctuation, and spacing to complement meaning.
When I read words that are not in stanza form and don’t rely on rhyme, alliteration, and other poetic devices, I recognize the work as poetry by succinct, well-crafted words and their effect. I may come to see a common object or action in fresh light; connect with a life, circumstance, or place I have never known; think about something differently, or just delight in the fresh play of words. If I experience that within a piece of prose, I count it as a “found poem.”
One can argue that some prose produces the same effects. I think it’s how the words are distilled that generally separates poetry from prose.

Quoting a friend, “Poetry is a lot like pornography. I can’t describe it, but I know it when I see it.

Classic! I’ll bet you don’t say that to kids.

I found a quote from Neil Philip the other day that makes a lot of sense to me. He says, “Some would argue that the very notion of poetry for children is a nonsense. Yet there is a recognisable tradition of children’s verse. It is, most crucially, a tradition of immediate apprehension. There is in the best children’s poetry a sense of the world being seen as for the first time, and of language being plucked from the air to describe it. This does not necessarily mean that children’s poems are ‘simple’ in any reductive sense. I would argue that no poem can be called a poem that does not have at its heart some unknowable mystery.” I’ve added italics to those phrases that help to answer that question, not just about children’s poetry, but poetry in general.

You write about the natural world in a fun and, dare I say, quirky way that kids respond to. What subjects do you want to explore in poetry in your future work?

Most of what I write springs from natural history experiences or facts that won’t leave me until I do something with them. I’ve barely begun to             explore animal behavior. I think there also may be geologic forces to be reckoned with.

New Mexico’s a good place for that!

The poems in What’s for Dinner? vary in length, style, & form. There’s haiku, concrete poetry, rhyme, and free verse. How do you match form to content?

Form and poem length seem to follow rather naturally from the subject. Four Ways to Catch a Seal wanted to be four distinct stanzas. Since    that’s traditional form, it follows that I’d use uppercase to start each line and I’d have a regular rhyming pattern. If a poem is quite short, I’ll often see if it can be a haiku. A more complex subject demands more length.

Since a picture is said to be “worth a thousand words,” I enjoy using shape (concrete poetry) to enhance a poem’s action as in Fast Food when a snake is free falling through the air between two hawks. In Not a Banana, I use an offset line for the banana slugs’ escape onto a separate page. Especially for children’s poems, I like to play with shape.

 As I start thinking about a subject and how to describe it, rhyming and alliterative words usually present themselves. I consider appropriate  similes, metaphors, repetition, and patterns. For Cowgirl Spider, I fairly quickly had the words and shape that became the last four lines (two split lines): Fancy twirler, // tricky spinner, // spider cowgirl // catches dinner. //  I knew there would be a poem, but the first portion took quite a  while to get just right. 

It may be poetry, but it’s also science. How much research goes into one of your poems?

Since I’m not an expert in anything, but am fond of exploring things I  don’t know, I often need to do quite a bit of research. I may have a poem rip-roaring along only to find that my assumption is wrong. When I saw hawks passing a snake between them mid-air I was sure it was a  parent and a well-grown youngster. I wrote it that way. Before presenting the poem for publication, however, I needed professional confirmation. I didn’t get it. I needed to change the players in the poem. Usually an error can’t be changed simply by word replacement because rhythm or rhyme becomes adversely affected.

 Fashioning a scientific subject in poetic form can be tricky. One of the first editorial comments on poems for my What’s for Dinner? . . . collection was, “The science pushes too hard upon the poetry.” I’m so grateful for that feedback and have been grappling with the dichotomy between poetic and scientific language ever since. In a separate work, every time I was satisfied with the poetry, my technical resource would advise me where and how it misrepresented science—within my subject’s focus or beyond. When I’d get the science absolutely right, the poetic feeling was gone. I was like a pendulum going back and forth between my technical expert and my critique group to achieve the right balance.

What’s one of the best stories from your visits to places like Africa ?

The most interesting/ unexpected experience turned out to be an August 1991 trip down theDanube. I was looking forward to a beautiful and idyllic cruise betweenVienna and Istanbul—with no idea that there would be a coup in Russia while we were on Russian ships. But that was after the flood.

The river was running too high for us to clear the Tito Bridge so we couldn’t leave Budapest as planned. The next day looked possible for the bridge, but all Danube traffic was stopped due to security for the pope’s arrival in Budapest. Jolted awake by a PA announcement in the middle of the night, we were told there would be an “immediate passenger inspection” and strongly advised to “look as much like our passport photos as possible.” The next day, other than a police patrol boat, ours was the only vessel on the river—a rather eerie feeling.

At the Tito Bridge only five inches separated our ship from the grating sound of miscalculation.  The rest should have been clear sailing, but complacency was soon shattered by the whispers, “Gorbachev resigned.” Word spread  among passengers with the feeling that he had been killed. Due to mountainous terrain, CNN International was not reaching the ship. Only Russian radio. What would be true, what false, of anything we heard? We had passed bombings in Vukovar and attack dogs being trained in Bratislava. Would war break out? What would the Russians do with us?

The professionals on the boat kept things running smoothly with most of our scheduled historical and cultural side trips. For a few hours, we  enjoyed Romanian food, lively music, and dance on an upper floor of a hotel. But the program ended, the elevator descended to a drab lobby, and reality. A desk clerk who spoke English told us that the KGB, the army, and the Vice President had been involved in the coup. Gorbachev was under house arrest at his Crimean vacation house—as far as he knew. The papers were a day old. We traveled uneasily between history and an uncertain present.

When we transferred to a second Russian ship to transit the Black Sea to Istanbul, we didn’t set foot in Russia, the usual  procedure, but boarded directly onto the second ship. Questions like Who has control of nuclear weapons? kept coming to mind.

In Istanbul we were able to sandwich CNN International News between tours of mosques and the Grand Bazaar. Shortly before we departed, Gorbachev spoke on TV about his ordeal. He looked older, but was free, and our minds were free of worst-case-scenario fears as we returned home.

I’ve had the pleasure of helping you find books at the library. (I’m telling you, folks, this place is crawling with talented writers.) What kind of books do you read a) for enjoyment, b) for research into current children’s books and c) for research on your own projects?

You generally help me with children’s books—resources for a potential project as well as titles or author names I’ve forgotten. For juvenile and adult reading and writing projects, I tend toward science, especially natural history, and poetry. I also enjoy fiction involving other cultures or subcultures such as Snow Flower and the Secret  Fan, The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, Jhumpa Lahiri’s short stories, A Texas Trilogy of plays by Preston Jones, and I go through art and photography phases.

I got this question from my interview with Vaunda Micheaux Nelson, whose great-uncle started a bookstore with 5 books, so I’m going to call it the Professor’s question: if you were going to start a store (or a library) with 5 books, which 5 would you choose?

The Complete Works of Shakespeare and an OED are certain. Perhaps Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath and Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. I’d consider Zen Shorts by Jon Muth or Aesop’s Fables that would be accessible to children and adults. This is an interesting exercise, but with e-readers now one might have to answer, Which 250 books would you include?

What are some of your favorite New Mexico books, for children or adults?

When I first moved to New Mexico’s ranch country I went to the monthly bookmobile to learn about my new home. My favorite books still are   from that time. Almost anything by Frank Waters, Bless Me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, We Fed Them Cactus by Fabiola Cabeza de Baca, No Life for a Lady by Agnes M. Cleaveland, The Sea of Grass by Conrad Richter, Wind Leaves No Shadow by Ruth Laughlin, Zuni Breadstuff by Frank Hamilton Cushing, The Blessing Way and Listening Woman by Tony Hillerman. For children—In My Mother’s House by Ann Nolan Clark and Byrd Baylor’s books, especially when her words are paired with Peter Parnall’s art. Even though all of the latter aren’t strictly of New Mexico, they epitomize my feelings for this state.

 Thank you, Katherine!

Read Kirkus’s review of What’s for Dinner? here. Hint: star!

the grand plan to fix everything

This is part 3 of a series of interviews with New Mexico children’s writers for the state centennial in 2012.

Uma Krishnaswami’s The Grand Plan to Fix Everything (Atheneum, 2011) was one of my favorite books of 2011, and if I were compiling a list of children’s books that read as master classes in setting, characterization, plot, and all-around niftiness, it would be on that one, too.

When Dini’s family moves from Maryland to India, she has to leave her best friend behind, but there’s one bright spot: maybe, with a little detective work and some Bollywood-style luck, she can discover what in the world is going on with her favorite movie star, Dolly Singh.

First question: I loved The Grand Plan to Fix Everything! Okay,uma krishnaswami that’s not really a question. First real question: There are so many threads in TGPTFE; what came to you first? How do you work out a plot structure like that without driving yourself to distraction?

Dini and her family came first. Then Dolly, and finally the details of the place. My deep, dark secret is that I do in fact drive (write) myself to distraction, adding more and more until I can practically feel the kitchen sink in my hands, ready to fling onto the heap. At that point, I set the sink down, calm myself, and force myself to look at what I have on the page. That helps me decide what really belongs and what was just a distraction. Distractions can often be lovely and alluring. Oh, look! A diamond ring! A cell phone! I should put them in.

 Hmm. Then I have to decide which one needs to play a central role, and which one can be an aside, part of an event that is part of the story but need not be onstage.

 I had a few other elements in earlier versions—bags of noodle soups, a garden statue, a brother. Oh, yes, some of the scraps in that kitchen sink needed to go right into a compost pile.

 If all that sounds messy, it is. Writing is not a tidy task. If a story falls into place too easily, I know that I simply haven’t worked hard enough at it.

I’m always interested in what writers have to say about creating voice. I’ve heard you talk about the voice in TGPTFE, which is, to my mind, one of the most memorable voices in a work for middle grade fiction this year, and one of my favorite elements of the book. Can you say something about how that voice manifested itself to you (or however you might like to put it!)

It sounds cliched, but that voice, and most of chapter 4, came to me in my sleep. (C.L.–Does that mean I should spend more time sleeping?) I’d gone to bed with a rather tangled storyline emerging in my mind and no idea how I was going to bring it to any kind of conclusion. Dini and her parents, Maddie and Dolly, were all part of this tangle. I woke up early in the morning—definitely past midnight—with that very brief chapter resonating in my mind. I wrote it down at once, as fast as I could. A few words changed, but all that text remained pretty much as it showed up. That does not happen very often to me, so I knew it was a gift from the universe of story, and I needed to accept it without question.

Some of the most memorable characters are adults—I’m thinking of Lal, poor Chickoo Dev, Dad with the nifty sayings, and of course Dolly herself. How do you approach writing adult characters for a young audience?

I didn’t even think of that in early drafts. I just wrote them as they showed up. In revision, I knew I’d need to pull Dini’s story to the foreground. As she inched slowly into a central role in the story of her own life, the adult characters assumed their own roles. Some of them were absurd, some were eccentric in a loving kind of way. There are no villains in this book, something else I was conscious of as I wrote. It wasn’t intentional—it just happened that way.

Now that you say that, I think it’s pretty refreshing to have a compelling story, one that feels like it has high stakes, without having a villain. After all, we don’t encounter villains every day, but we all have plotlines we want to see through.

In part 2 of your conversation with Joanne Rocklin (1), you say that when you get stuck with writing, you read and absorb the voices of characters and the narrative choices of the writer. What are some books that you’ve absorbed in this way? Who are some of your favorite writers to read when you’re looking for that kind of inspiration?

In general when I get stuck I try to read work that is different from anything I’m writing. I read poetry, or essays, or any kind of writing in which the words matter. A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman, for example, is a book that can stir my words back to life when they feel sluggish. For The Grand Plan to Fix Everything I found myself wanting to go back to the books that made me first want to write, years and years ago. I revisited P.G.Wodehouse’s marvelously crafted escapades in the idealized England of his books, and R.K. Narayan’s utterly brilliant Malgudi Days, in which the writer turns a sort of fiercely loving eye onto a tiny, idiosyncratic fictional rural community in India. These are not of course written for children, but they gave me ways to position myself as I wrote my book. They gave me the confidence to create the kind of closed world I was after for my story. They helped me to get a running start again, at times when I felt myself flagging.

One of the delights of this book is the way you present India, from its speedy India Post to its Dreamycakes Bakery and, of course, monkeys in the water tank. Much of this is based on the Bollywood conception of India. How do you go about creating such a vibrant setting for a primarily American audience?

Let me be very clear. The town of Swapnagiri does not exist.  But the Nilgiris (Blue Mountains) do, and so do the flowers for which they’re named. The monkeys, the hill roads, the mists, the tea gardens are all drawn from places I know in India with a sort of cinematic shimmer added to them. The shimmer comes from Bollywood of course, but the places, including Sunny Villa, are straight from my very early childhood.

Can I ask the same question you asked a group of writers: Who was your audience when you wrote this book?

I suppose my first audience in early drafts was my younger self, the 10- or 11-year-old self who still exists in my mind. Then  my wonderful writing group was my audience. They interrogated the work fairly thoroughly. (Vaunda Nelson and Katherine Hauth are both members—I imagine you might talk to them as well about their new books (2).) Much later in the process, I became more aware of a kind of hypothetical young reader. I’d test iffy passages against the perceptions of this imaginary person, who was fairly critical and wouldn’t put up with any self-indulgence. I trust my reader, however, to stick with me even when I’m not connecting all the dots. That way lies tedium. And in the end, I think that worked, judging from letters I’ve received so far from real young readers who have read and enjoyed the book.

The writing life: that phrase conjures images not just of writing, but of talking about writing, teaching writing, writing about writing. You do all of those! It seems to me like there must be a kind of feedback loop going on. How do all of these different activities influence one another in your experience?

 They keep the writing conversation alive for me. Talking to students, to my writing group, to colleagues, and writing about writing all allow me to consider my own work even when I’m taking a break from it. They keep the work in my mind but in an indirect way. When you look at something directly for too long, you can’t always see the patterns in it. Looking away and talking about the craft in a conceptual, even theoretical way, allows me to see my own work anew when I return to it.

 Here’s something that’s funny and humbling all at once. I’ve often had the experience of writing  a critique letter to a student and feeling satisfied. Feeling as if I’ve given the manuscript my best and closest attention. I’ve found the strengths. I’ve identified work that needs to be done. Then I go back to my own work in progress, and wham! Every single point I made about that student’s work is right there, staring me in the face, only I couldn’t see it before. I am convinced that the act of teaching makes me a better writer.

On your website, you list “20 writing tips I wish I’d heard 20 years ago.” If it’s not too much to ask, is there a 21st?

 Yes. Here it is:

 You don’t have to put everything on the page. Leave room for the reader to create meaning.

That’s a whole conversation in itself–how readers create meaning. It’s especially interesting when the readers are children. I remember hearing Catherynne Valente say, in response to criticisms that The Girl who Circumnavigated Fairyland was too complicated for children, that kids are used to living in a world in which so much of what the encounter is slightly beyond them, and they’re very adept at putting together what they do understand into a personal comprehensible whole.

This is part of a series on New Mexico children’s writers to celebrate the centennial. Have you ever thought about writing a book set in New Mexico? What are some of your favorite NM books, children’s or adult?

 I’m growing a story set in New Mexico, but I can’t say much more than that. It’s a novel, and it’s half-written at this time. Talking about it may make the poor thing evaporate, so I won’t, other than to say it takes me a long time to work a setting into my system sufficiently that I feel I can write it with any confidence. If I live long enough I hope someday I can do a New Mexican setting justice.

 Favorite NM books—oh there are so many. Of course Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, but also Willa Cather’s work, and N. Scott Momaday’s House Made of Dawn, just for starters. Among children’s books, I love Luci Tapahanso’s deceptively simple Songs of Shiprock Fair with its wonderful illustrations by Anthony Chee Emerson. More recently, I’ve enjoyed reading Diane Stanley’s middle grade novel, Saving Sky.

 That’s two votes for Willa Cather, not that it’s a contest. But I’ll add mine to that, as well as to Songs of Shiprock Fair. Thank you, Uma!

1. You can read Part One and Part Two on Uma’s blog.

2. I did indeed interview Vaunda! And here it is. Watch for an interview with Katherine Hauth in the near future.

This is part of a series of interviews with New Mexico writers for the 2012 centennial.

In Caroline Starr Rose’s debut, May B., May Betterly is sent  to help reluctant prairie wife Mrs. Oblinger with the housework in a Kansas soddy and earn a little money for her family. She’s not happy about it, and she’s even less happy when she discovers she’s been abandoned and left to fend for herself in the cold Midwestern winter with a bit of sourdough, some apples, and herself for company. Here, Caroline talks about bearing the mantle of Poet, her love for Laura Ingalls Wilder, and writing about conflict.

May B

  1. To begin with the obvious: May B. is a historical novel in verse, specifically in 151 numbered poems. I remember hearing you talk about language in both rhyming picture books and verse novels, and your love of language comes through on every page. What draws you to write in verse, and in historical fiction, and why do you think they work well together?

 Thank you, Rebecca! I’ve always been nervous of the weightiness the words poetry and poet carry. A few years ago at one of Darcy Pattison’s revision retreats, we participants were asked to talk about what we’d published and/or written. When I shared I’d sold a few poems and was querying a historical verse novel I’d just finished, Darcy said, “Sounds like you’re a poet.” I can’t tell you how hearing that terrified me!Caroline Starr Rose

 Verse is something that found me. When I started working with May B., I was frustrated at the distance I felt between what I wanted to convey and what was actually on the page. I spent some time looking back over first-hand accounts of pioneer women and noticed in their writing the spare word choice and the matter-of-fact presentation of events (some mundane, some heartbreaking). With this in mind, I immediately wrote what is now poem 2 in May B., choosing to let the words and May’s bleak situation speak for themselves. The experience was magical; I’d felt like I’d found some hidden formula to finally tell the story in the most honest way possible.

 As for historical fiction, using verse can certainly speak to the setting and character’s circumstance. After my ah-ha moment, I understood why Karen Hesse chose to use verse for Out of the Dust: spare language suited the bare Dust Bowl landscape and paralleled Billie Jo’s whittled-down life.

 I’m guessing that many reviews will draw comparisons with a) Little House on the Prairie and b) Out of the Dust. Maybe even a little bit of c) Sarah, Plain and Tall for good measure. But every work needs the chance to stand on its own merits, and May B. does that beautifully. What is it about May’s story that made you want to tell it?

 I have to confess I asked my editor countless times if May B. was coming across as a Little House knock off. I lived in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books as a girl, and I worried her stories would seep too much into mine. It’s been wonderful to see reviewers point out the parallels — Kirkus called it Laura Ingalls inspired; Horn Book described it as Little House without the coziness (yes, I’ve memorized these words like a love-sick teen) — but still present the book on its own merits.

 There are a couple of reasons I wanted to write this book. Again, with a nod to Laura (we’re on a first-name basis, the two of us), I wanted to create my own strong pioneer girl. I was also fascinated by the challenge solitude would present in telling a story. Ultimately, though, I wanted to examine the concept of worth — how so often who we are becomes based on what others tell us about ourselves or on what we’re able to do. Like May, I think all of us in some way feel we don’t measure up. I hope many readers will be able to relate to — and find confidence and courage in — her story.

 The contrast between limits and open spaces strikes me as a potent theme here. Physically, you’ve got poor May stuck in a leaky soddy in the middle of the vast prairie, and psychologically, she’s got vast stretches of empty time, but her dyslexia keeps her from using that time to practice the one thing she seems to want to do most. Can you talk a little about setting up conflict, and especially how that plays out in verse?

 May’s name came to me before her story did. I liked the way May Betterly could become May B. and how “maybe” could speak to her perception of herself (maybe is such a wishy-washy word. It makes me think of mediocre or so-so). From this, I decided the most direct way to challenge her would be to have her long for something that would have been virtually impossible for a dyslexic child in her era: becoming a teacher.

 Then there’s the external struggle for May just to stay alive. In telling a story with essentially one character, it would be very easy to just live in her head (especially with the way verse allows such close observation of a character’s mind). But I couldn’t do that. I had to keep the internal and external wound together to keep the story moving, to help May grow, and to hold onto the interest of my readers.

 For me, as a reader, I love finding things that parallel and things that contrast. It was fun to examine these things in writing May B.: feeling trapped on the vast prairie, longing for the very thing most out of reach and how that shapes a person (one of Emily Dickinson’s recurring themes and has always fascinated me),  light and dark, freedom and limitation…I’m not really answering your question, am I? (C.L.- I like your answer anyway!) I found verse a clear way to juxtapose these sorts of things. It leaves the reader to mull over and draw conclusions outside of what’s presented in the text.

 Just one more question about verse novels: you posted on your own blog about people’s reactions to novels in verse, and I was thinking as I read May B. a second time that it has a lot to do with expectations, sort of like in visual art. People expect “verse” to rhyme, or at least to have a distinguishable meter, just as they expect a picture to represent something they can easily identify. Some of the very brief poems in May B. remind me of a piece of flash fiction by Lydia Davis–I’ve never read it, but I heard it, and it stuck in my head: “Samuel Johnson is indignant/that Scotland has so few trees.” I think that’s the whole thing. Where’s the line between verse and other forms like flash fiction?

 Wow. I’ve never thought along those lines. I completely understand why someone might not see some of May B.’s short poems as verse — My ankle’s purple / those stupid boots. comes to mind. Still, that poem captures an exact moment I felt needed to stand alone. As to the line between flash fiction and verse, I’m not sure where it is! I’m curious; what do you think?

Since you asked: I think they both rely heavily on the power of images to convey multiple meanings,  and to distill ideas to something very potent, almost something you can hold in your hand. I’d guess that the form is really the distinction, so maybe it’s a visual genre separation when you’re talking about that very, very brief flash fiction. But enough from me.

Okay, a little bit more from me. A lot of middle grade books center on family themes, but you’ve put May in a situation where she’s completely alone. Was that intentional, and can I therefore add it to my bibliography of books about survival?

 Utterly intentional. There were days I cursed myself for trying this solitude experiment in words, as it wasn’t easy. Remember that Tom Hanks movie, Castaway? (C.L.-Wiiilson!) It fascinated me that with very little dialogue (apart from conversations that took place with Wilson the volley ball — this was brilliant, I might add) we could still come to know and care about this character and his circumstance. I’m also a huge Gary Paulsen fan and love it when readers see parallels with May B. and Hatchet. So, yes, please add to your survival bibliography!

 You have a lot of resources on your blog for classroom teachers. What other books would you recommend for a teacher who wanted to do a unit on a) frontier living and b) children with dyslexia?

 Prairie Song – Pam Conrad

Pioneer Girl: A True Story of Growing up on the Prairie – Andrea Warren

Dear America: Across the Wide and Lonesome Prairie – Kristiana Gregory

 The only books that deal with a dyslexic child that I can think of is the Percy Jackson series. Enlighten me if you know of more!

 The Hank Zipzer series; My Name is Brain Brian; Stravaganza: City of Secrets. I’m sure there are more.

What are some of your favorite recent books? Favorites of all time?

 Last year I ate up Lives Like Loaded Guns: Emily Dickinson and her Family’s Feuds. A few books from this year that come to mind are Mockingbird, Stupid Fast, Between Shades of Gray, A Northern Light, and the forth-coming The Wicked and the Just. My favorite books of all time are The Count of Monte Cristo, Possession by AS Byatt, Katherine by Anya Seton, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, House of the Spirits, and The Phantom Tollbooth.

 Because this is part of a centennial series on New Mexico children’s writers, let’s have a couple of New Mexico questions. (No, not “red or green?”) Have you thought about writing a book set in New Mexico? What piece of NM history (I guess I’m just assuming it would be historical) might you write about?

 Wait! I must answer red or green! I’m not allowed to live here if I don’t. I vote for Christmas; if I go with only the red or green chile, I always feel like I’ve missed out.

 I’d love to write a New Mexico book someday, and it would be historical. Acoma Pueblo has always fascinated me, but Kimberley Griffiths Little beat me to it with Snakerunner. Hmm…maybe the Pueblo Revolt?

Do you have any favorite books set in NM, either children’s or adult?

 I’d have to say Death Comes for the Archbishop, Rio Grande Stories, and The King’s Fifth. I haven’t picked up Tortilla Sun yet (I really need to).

When will the annual SCBWI conference be held in Albuquerque? (You don’t have to answer that one, but wouldn’t it be nice?)

 Great question! Mountains, deserts, turquoise skies, the aforemetioned chile — who wouldn’t want to come here? Come on, SCBWI.

Thanks, Caroline!

Visit Caroline’s website here. And if you’re in New Mexico, Caroline will be doing an event at Alamosa Books in Albuquerque. See here for more information.