The best part of a busy week

It wasn't toting home from UT an enormous stack of books about antebellum Charleston and the B&O railroad as research for my Impostors project.

It wasn't reading a terrific nonfiction proposal from a new friend and then putting her in touch with a children's literature professional who was just as enthusiastic as I was.

It wasn't picking up Keep Your Eye on the Kid as a baby gift for a film-historian mom's firstborn (See? I'm doing better!) and then visiting with a kidlit friend while I was in the neighborhood.

It wasn't even finding out about another friend's wonderfully ambitious (and long overdue) historical and literary project.

And it wasn't finishing my first reads of the manuscripts I'm critiquing for this month's conference, or successfully shaving 12 pages of my own down to 10 for submission to a critique group, or making plans for a get-to-know-you lunch this week with a couple of local literary folks.

Nope, it was an hour spent at my kitchen table with a pair of preteen writers. They came equipped with loads of enthusiasm and terrific questions about writing and publishing, and I got to share the evolution of my relationship with one publishing house from rejection letters -- all of which I saved and was able to show them -- to acceptance of one of my manuscripts.

And the best part of the best part was when one of them said, "Little, Brown! Almost everything I read is from Little, Brown!"

All roads (well, two) lead to Austin

I got the official announcement this week that my agent and my S.V.T. editor will both be at the next big Austin SCBWI conference. And though it's not until April 26, 2008, I'm already plenty excited. This will be only my second in-person get-together with my agent, and the first time to meet my editor.

You New York authors, with your New York agents and your New York editors -- do you realize how lucky you are?

S.V.T. finally officially official

Four months after I announced the sale here, I have at last seen, signed (in triplicate), and sent in to Little, Brown my contract for S.V.T. It tickled me to see the silliness of the plot boiled down to a single paragraph in a sea of legalese.

Any time you can find something amusing in a legal document, take it.

Welcome! Now, S.V.T. (Share Various Theories)!

Greetings to the thousands of you finding your way to Bartography this week from the "Blogs of Note" area on Blogger's home page. Now that you're here...

A few months ago, I sold a picture book to Little, Brown. We're not sayin' what the title is, because it gives too much away. But its initials are "S.V.T.," and if you're the first to guess what those initials stand for, you'll get a free copy of the book.

When it's published.

In 2010.

A couple of hints:

1. Of all the guesses via these posts, one person has correctly guessed one of the three words in the title.
2. The "V" does not stand for "Vomit."

S.V.T. has an illustrator!

And it's Tom Lichtenheld.

As in, What Are You So Grumpy About?

As in, What's With This Room?

As in, Everything I Know About Monsters...

Pirates...

and Cars.

Am I excited? Well, let's just say I had envisioned Tom illustrating this book even before Little, Brown entered the picture.

Seven quick things about S.V.T.

1. Everyone sees S.V.T. as a "boy book." I agree that it is, especially since I know the boys who inspired it, but it's still been a little startling to hear folks so unabashedly say so. There's clearly a hunger for books that boys in particular will want to read again and again.
2. Gail was onto something when she commented, "Selling a second book may actually be more satisfying than selling the first. You sell the first book and you think, Could this be a fluke?" Yes, indeed. My last sale was nearly 2 1/2 years ago, and it's getting close to two years since I started this blog -- frankly, I was starting to get a little self-conscious about not having had an announcement like this to make sooner.
   
3. The acquiring editor is someone I've been submitting manuscripts to for over five years now. Thank you, persistence.
4. Since the year began, three houses expressed a strong interest in this manuscript, but one of them ultimately did not make an offer due to a bit of internal turmoil. I wonder how often that happens.
5. I hated saying no to the other editor who did make a bid. Hated it. I have not worked this hard and this long only to decline editors' kind offers to give me money in exchange for my writing, and it just felt weird.
   
6. My agent did not think much of my suggestion that, to spare any hurt feelings, we sell S.V.T. to both editors. But I figure that -- as long the two versions came out in the same season, and nobody at either house read the reviews too closely, and I didn't somehow mistakenly invite both editors and their respective illustrators to my country estate for the same weekend, thus setting the scene for much door-slamming farcical hilarity -- my plan would work just fine.
7. I'm just delighted by all the (wrong, wrong, wrong!) guesses about what S.V.T. stands for and by the thoughtfulness of Don, Gregory K., Fuse #8, and Tim in spreading my good news. [Edited to thank Chicken Spaghetti, Jen Robinson, and Cynsations, too. And the Cybils! And Book Moot! Mitali's Fire Escape, too!] Say, has anyone ever told you people that the kidlitosphere is the place to be?

Coming sometime from Little, Brown: S.V.T. By me!

Breaking news: I've just sold my second book!

Little, Brown is going to publish the thoroughly silly, not-at-all-nonfictional, just-something-I-made-up picture book that I've been referring to here as "S.V.T." And in fact, because the book is so concept-driven, and because the actual title gives so much of that concept away, and because I'm just plain paranoid, I'm going to continue to refer to it by its acronym.

But if you're the first person to guess what "S.V.T." stands for, not only will I not stamp my feet until I go through a hole in the floor, I'll give you a free copy of the book -- you know, in a few years.

This has been a thrilling few weeks watching this deal come together, and I'm just as happy as can be. It was fascinating to watch my agent do her thing, and it just about killed me not to spill the partially cooked beans here on Bartography. I could go on and on about this whole experience -- as you already know if you're my wife, kids, agent, or mother -- but I have no idea where to start (or stop).

Many thanks to my family for their inspiration and enthusiasm, to Don, Julie and Gregory K. for reading an early draft of S.V.T., and to Agent E for finding such an exciting home for this manuscript. Wheeee!

What am I waiting for? (2/07)

News from editors on S.V.T., Pasta, James and Smith.

P.O.'s return to circulation.

The right time to travel a few hundred miles east for some on-site research for J.R.

Anything that may develop from an animation studio's recent out-of-the-blue inquiry about one of my projects.

TLA!

What am I working on? (11/06)

It's been a long time since I've offered this summary, so thanks to Tim for suggesting I get back to it. Here goes:

I'm doing very, very preliminary research for J.R., the next picture book biography I hope to write. "Preliminary" as in slowly reading a big ol' academic history of the period in which he lived, a book with only a handful of mentions of J.R. himself. Once I've absorbed all that, I plan to move on to J.R.'s autobiography -- but boy, is it hard keeping myself from jumping right to it.

I've revised S.V.T. and resubmitted it to my agent, but I'm still thinking of tweaks, so I'll be storing those up over the weekend and passing those along.

My role in getting the Cybils off the ground -- while extremely limited compared to the effort that others have been putting into it -- has squeezed out the rest of my writing work and much of my blogging. But I think it's for a good cause -- I recently saw a writer/illustrator make what I call the "nonfiction face" when the conversation turned to books about real, true-life stuff. In shedding light on the best nonfiction picture books (among other types) out there, perhaps the Cybils can reduce the occurrence of nonfiction face:

Reading? Writing? Who needs 'em?

Aside from not getting much reading or any writing done, yesterday was terrific.

First, my editor paid me a great big compliment as we resolved a micro-issue related to the publication date of The Day-Glo Brothers. By the way, we should be about a year away from having advance copies.

Then I heard from my agent that my Pasta proposal -- two chapters and descriptions of additional subjects ripe for coverage in the subsequent chapters -- is ready to send off to the (very patient) editor who expressed an interest back in January. Plus, I got some encouraging and constructive feedback on SVT that -- along with what I got from Don and Julie last weekend -- I'll put to use when I start revising next week.

And then there was the party, a Cynthia and Greg Leitich Smith-hosted affair in honor of the guests in town for today's SCBWI conference. If I drop any more names, I'll be spending the entire morning adding links to their sites and blogs. But regardless of who was there, I was impressed yet again by the warmth and congeniality and fun (and noise) generated by a house full of people who love children's literature.

I learned of new contracts, new books, and a nearly completed trilogy. I got to pass along a message from an out-of-town author to the visiting editor, and I took a message from the visiting writing coach to pass along to an out-of-town blogger. There was enthusiastic talk of the Cybils (and not just by me), nervous talk of the next day's presentations, and grin-and-bear-it talk of ongoing revisions. And lots of curiosity about how The Day-Glo Brothers is coming along.

Best of all, I found in a couple of New Yorkers an appreciative audience for the title of the country song I'm writing. But since it was too loud to sing in there, I'll share the chorus (the only part of the song that actually exists so far) with you. Feel free to imagine my wife rolling her eyes as I sing:

I'll ask you one more time
And I swear, it's not a joke
Tell me honestly
Do these tears make my heart look broke?

From Cybils to sikyifriykyiwas

The children's book awards now have a name and a web site: the Cybils. Now, head on over and get to nominatin'. And if you want to be considered for a non-fiction picture book committee -- either to narrow down the nominations, or to select the winner -- let me know right here in the comments.

***

I enjoyed a flashback to my youth yesterday through a couple of bedtime chapters of Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing, which I hadn't read in 25 years. (I read sequel Superfudge aloud to my own fourth-grade class, so school visits should be a cinch for me.) But as much as I enjoyed it, 7-year-old S enjoyed it more, devouring the whole thing and getting all excited when I told him there were other Fudge books. I'm so glad I thought to bring home Tales while S, like Peter Hatcher, still has a 2 1/2-year-old brother.

***

I got some useful and encouraging feedback on my new manuscript, SVT, from my critique group on Saturday. I've got another set of eyes looking at it, and then I'll figure out my next move, but I'm still very much in love with it.

***

SVT must have met my need to get silly and make stuff up, because I've now been drawn far deeper into JR, the topic I'd been considering for my next picture book biography. Before I really started reading up on the subject, I'd thought it was something I might want to write about, eventually; now, I feel like it's something I have to write about, now.

***

Finally, if you've always wondered what a sikyifriykyiwa sounds like, wonder no more. Yesterday, I learned of Wesleyan University's Virtual Instrument Museum, which is packed with sample sounds and videos of chordophones, aerophones, membranophones, and idiophones. "Idiophones?" Who knew?

Exceptional

I got all bristly earlier this week when a friend of mine -- while we were discussing prolific children's writers and our own busy schedules -- remarked about how great it must feel to bang out something as short as a picture book manuscript.

Fellow members of the kidlit guild will be proud to know that I reflexively defended our craft and the time it takes to do it properly, even when the word count is measured in three (or even two) digits. Yes, compared to the geologic age of the earth or the time it takes to produce book-length nonfiction about the Smoot-Hawley Tariff, picture book manuscripts come together relatively fast. But in such a brief piece of writing, for an audience whose outlook and recent experiences are so different from those of the author, every word gets scrutinized and scrutinized again -- and that's before you take into consideration how those words will interact with illustrations that don't yet exist.

It's possible to quickly turn out a picture book manuscript, I admitted, but it's not necessarily the norm. In my experience, certainly, it's the exception.

Well, a day or two later, I went on to have one of those exceptional experiences.

With a critique group meeting looming and nothing to share, I went for a run Tuesday evening. Less than a mile into it, a recent idea that heretofore consisted only of three words popped into my sweaty head -- along with fully formed text. I fleshed it out while I ran, kept working it over so I wouldn't forget it before I got back to the house, and typed it up as soon as I came in the door.

Later that evening, I sat in a big comfy chair and added a bit by longhand before placing the notebook on the floor right outside my bedroom door. First thing in the morning, I picked it up, went downstairs, and banged out a complete manuscript. Elapsed time since inspiration hit: maybe 13 hours.

My friend was right. It did feel great.

What felt even better was the nature of this particular manuscript -- goofy and silly, inspired by and targeted for the tastes of 7-year-old S. I can't remember the last time I'd written something like that, but I know I don't want to go that long again.

Is my new manuscript any good? I'll find out soon enough when I share it with other grownups. But I can tell you how S and 2-year-old F reacted. My wife read the manuscript to them throughout the day, and they loved it, with S recounting his favorite parts to me when I got home that evening.

Now, something else that we in the kidlit guild are supposed to reflexively emphasize is that you should never use the reaction of your kids, grandkids, pets, etc., to measure the quality of a manuscript. Of course they'll love it; you feed them. Their reaction is not supposed to matter.

Well, it did.