It’s been a busy week and it’s just going to get busier, but that’s all part of the fun. Wishing you all a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate, filled with family and friends and good food!

And a special thank you to those who are giving GIVE UP THE GHOST under the tree (or however you do your gifting)! Even Cass appreciates a little holiday cheer.

Originally published at Megan Crewe - another world, not quite ours. You can comment here or there.

The Creature With Fangs Elfed yesterday.



My Beloved Husband Elfed yesterday.



Queen Louise Elfed yesterday.



And I did, too.



A most merry time, indeed!

Revision Tip #23

I rarely have the image systems of my books in mind when I start writing. But by the end of the first or second draft, some image (symbol for Eng lit majors) has cropped up and I realize that I can riff on that symbol throughout the book to tell the larger story. In a subtle way, I hope.

In SPEAK, it was the image of the tree. There was only one mention of it in the early drafts. When I realized the power of it, I wrote in all the art class scenes, and made the tree into a year-long project for her.

WINTERGIRLS was interesting. The first paragraph of the first draft of the book was this:

"The crows stalk me, wings folded neatly behind them, hungry yellow weighing my soft spots. They circle around me once, twice, three times, claws scarring the stone floor of the church.

I curl up on the frozen altar. They flutter close, black feathers filling my mouth and eyes and ears."

I really don't know where that came from; I just wrote it down, plus a bunch of other stuff. The reference to the "frozen altar" is what got me thinking about ancient religions and mythology, which in turn led me to ponder if there was a mythological story within Lia's story. Of course there was: the story of Persephone. That became a central image system for the book, with references to pomegranate seeds and the death that is winter, along with mother/goddess figure at her wits end, trying to pull her daughter back from the grasp of hell.

(For the record - that opening paragraph wound up migrating to page 264. It fits much better there.)

Is there a small detail in your draft that could be expanded into a central image system?

Merry Christmas Eve Eve, everyone! :D

I'm sitting here, feeling like a big, fat blob, yet still munching on a piece of homemade bread with homemade butter. (*I* didn't make it, of course. Somebody in the office did. And it is amazing. I'd take the whole tray and hide it in my cubicle if I didn't think somebody would notice.)
I actually got out of the shower yesterday thinking, "Hey, I think I've lost a little weight around my middle. It doesn't seem as flabby as usual." Then got on the scale and saw that I'd GAINED weight since the last time I looked (which was several months ago). Got very depressed. Yet not enough to stop eating Christmas goodies, apparently. Ah well. I'll start caring again after the new year.

Also as a result of feeling like a big, fat blob, I don't want to do anything at work today that involves actual effort. Like interviews. And harassing the local armory for interviews (Besides, harassing an armory makes me a little uncomfortable. They have a huge freaking tank on their lawn, after all.). I just want to curl up in a blanket and goof off on the internet all day.
I actually participated in my first 40-person online raid on World of Warcraft this week and it was so much fun. You get all your weapons and skills and crap and then raid the enemy's main cities (which other, real players are playing in). And I didn't even die (okay, well, except when I fell off the lift that was taking me up a cliff - but I'm a klutz like that.) Not dying was a big accomplishment because I am video/computer game impaired and just went in shooting arrows like crazy and ducking and running when people tried to gang up on me. So, yeah, going in and battling with "enemy" players filled me with dork glee. Also, I am only two levels away from being the highest level currently possible in the game. And I ride a war bear. And an elephant. And a black gryphon.

Tonight I've got to do the Christmas dinner/bonding time with the mother-in-law, which I am not really looking forward to, and on Christmas Eve I'm going to our church's annual candlelight Christmas service, which I am looking forward to, and then Christmas morning we're having a breakfast with all of my family in which we have all been given permission to come over in our pjs, which I am very much looking forward to.

Also, not sure if I mentioned this (and am too filled with Christmas cheer and/or laziness to go back and see if I have), but my sister recently got a job at the movie theater and gets free movies now. She's allowed to take one person with her to movies for free. I am hoping to be able to see many movies in the future. :3 Plus, free popcorn and drinks! What could be better than that?

Also, also, I technically have one more gift to buy for Christmas, but at this point I'm thinking of just re-gifting a gift card to Sears because it's crazy out there and I almost didn't get back home yesterday after trying to make the trek to the busiest shopping center in town.

Exactly four years ago, I sold my first book to Simon & Schuster, and I wrote this in my journal:

If I had to say my greatest wish, for myself at least, it would be exactly what I’m doing now:  working with a wonderful agent, getting the opportunity to work with an editor at a major publishing house.  To know I’m going to be published:  I feel like I am accomplishing the thing I was meant to all along. 

The book that I knew was going to be published was SINCERELY, SOPHIE, originally slated for publication in early 2008.  Then a bunch of things happened – my editor resigned, I was assigned a new editor, I wrote a couple more books – and the publication date for SINCERELY, SOPHIE was pushed back a bit.

But it’s finally coming out from Simon & Schuster this June – June 8, 2010.  It’s being packaged as a two-for-one:  both SINCERELY, SOPHIE and its companion, SINCERELY, KATIE, are being published as one volume.  The front cover features eleven-year-old New Yorker Sophie Turner, and the back cover has her California pen pal, Katie Franklin.

I love the cover so much.  I was so nervous about it, because I thought I would never love a cover as much as POSITIVELY.  The SINCERELY jacket is so different, but so perfect. 

I can’t post the whole jacket because I only have a pdf version, but here is the front cover.



It’s a drawing by Tuesday Mourning, my new favorite artist.

May We Always Believe
by Lisa Schroeder, Dec. 2005


’Twas the week before Christmas
and with so much to do,
not a Schroeder was sleeping.
They were frazzled, it’s true.

The cookies weren’t baked
and the gifts weren’t yet bought.
But with Target dot com,
surely all was not lost.

The boys topped their lists with
Nintendo DS!
Mom’s heart started racing
from Extreme Price Tag Stress.

“Why do you need that?”
Mom tried to outwit.
“You have a fine Gameboy.”

“But the new games don’t FIT!”

“Santa will bring them,”
G said, “Yes he will!”
Dad nodded and smiled
while Mom felt quite ill.

Visions of Kirby
danced in the boys’ heads,
as they drifted to sleep
in their warm, comfy beds.

“How did we get here?”
Mom asked with a sigh.
“What happened to dump trucks,
and to blocks built so high?”

Just for a moment,
Dad closed his brown eyes.
“They grow up so fast.
It’s been quite a surprise.”

“Wait!” Mom exclaimed.
“Did you hear what G said?
SANTA WILL BRING THEM!
This is nothing to dread!”

When Christmas Day came,
Santa left quite a loot.
He ate all the cookies,
left a mark with his boot.

“I told you, I told you!”
G squealed with joy.
Mom and Dad wiped their tears
at the sight of their boy.

“Will you always believe,
in that old Santa Claus?”
“I will!” answered G,
without nearly a pause.

Big brother S
well, he didn’t say much.
Except, “Santa’s great.”
Ah, what a nice touch.

And so Mom and Dad
watched the day, what a thrill.
And they found themselves wishing
time would stop. Just stand still.

Thank you, dear Lord,
for good girls and boys.
May we always believe,
and know life’s greatest joys.

***

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!

Wishing you peace, love and joy.

~Lisa

Stick Man and Christmas Book Picks by Esme Raji Codell from The Planet Esme Plan. Peek: "if I could have one Christmahanukwanzaakah wish, it would be that children's books wouldn't go out of print quite so quickly, and publishers would back artists instead of titles." Read a Cynsations interview with Esme.

Agent Lauren Macleod Strothman Agency by Kathleen Temean. Peek: "Looking for: Contemporary YA & MG, narrative nonfiction for young adults, graphic novels, YA Dystopian with strong world-building..."

An Interview with Rabbi Jacobs from Jewish Books for Children with Author Barbara Bietz. Peek: "The Two Kings book series actually evolved from a play we performed for many years in front of tens of thousands of youth in Israel."

An Interview with Marilyn Singer from Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog. Peek: "Poems to me are about capturing moments in time, answering questions I ask myself, exploring emotions I feel, or, if I’m writing narrative poems, capturing the essence of characters. They're also about playing with language in ways that are impossible to attempt in prose." See also Marilyn on What Makes a Good Young Picture Book? and What Makes a Good Poem? and What Is a Short Story?

Children's Books: Alarmingly Bright Futures by Rich Cohen from the New York Times Sunday Book Review. Peek: "The book, which explains the whys and hows of Day-Glo and is illustrated with tremendous Pop Art verve, began with [Chris] Barton's perusal of The New York Times’s obituary page, proving that the dead really do tell the best tales." Read a Cynsations interview with author Chris Barton.

17 Reasons Book Manuscripts are Rejected by Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen from Quips and Tips for Successful Writers. Peek: "These 17 reasons book manuscripts are rejected are from a panel of editors, literary agents, and publishers at the Surrey International Writers' Conference in British Columbia, Canada."

Holiday Survival Guide for Introverts by R.L. LaFevers from Shrinking Violet Promotions. Peek: "If your time is too frazzled to actually make progress on your manuscript, consider personal journaling or maybe even character journaling."

Steal These Books by Margo Rabb from the New York Times Sunday Book Review. Peek: "At BookPeople in Austin, titles displayed with staff recommendation cards are a darling among thieves. 'It's so bad lately that I feel like our staff recommendation cards should read: 'BookPeople Bookseller recommends that you steal ________.' Apparently the criminal element in Austin shares our literary tastes, or are very prone to suggestion," Elizabeth Jordan, the head book buyer, wrote in an e-mail message." Read a Cynsations interview with Margo.

Attention Shoppers

Books Make Great Gifts from IndieBound. Find Austin Children's-YA Authors & Illustrators at IndieBound. See also my IndieBound page.



Shades of the Season by Kelly Starling Lyons from the Brown Bookshelf. Peek: "...what if you're looking for a tale that celebrates the season and African-American culture? Here are 10 picture books to consider adding to your holiday book list that salute Christmas, Kwanzaa and New Year's Day." See a video below, celebrating Shante Keys and the New Year's Peas by Gail Piernas-Davenport, illustrated by Marion Eldridge (Albert Whitman, 2007).



Check out this book trailer for Fallen by Lauren Kate (Delacorte, 2009), suggested to fans of Eternal (Candlewick, 2009). Note: more on Fallen in 2010.



More Personally

Look for the paperback edition of Eternal (Feb. 2010) in the spring-summer 2010 Candlewick Press catalog! See page 108.

A Gift for Readers and Writers by JoAnn Early Macken from Teaching Authors: Six Children's Authors Who Also Teach Writing. Note: JoAnn kindly recommends my main website. Peek: "The massive Children’s & YA Literature Resources section includes interviews, bibliographies, and links to additional valuable resources: information about censorship, diversity, children’s book experts, guides for readers and teachers, state and national awards, recommended books, and writing for children and teenagers."

Look for the illustrated reader's theater, "A Real-Live Blond Cherokee," adapted by Christy Damio, on pages 4 to 9 in the Nov. 9 to Nov. 23, 2009 issue of Scholastic Action Magazine.

The reader's theater is an adaptation of my YA short story "A Real-Live Blond Cherokee and His Equally Annoyed Soul Mate," which appeared in Moccasin Thunder: American Indian Stories for Today, edited by Lori Marie Carlson (HarperCollins, 2005).

Thanks to Christy for asking great questions and thoughtfully applying my answers. It's a treat, too, to see these YA short story characters brought to life in the illustrations. I'm especially loving the Wonder Woman boots and cowboy boots up front in the first one.


I've been busy revising Blessed (Candlewick, Feb. 2011), trying to get as much done as possible before leaving for the Vermont College of Fine Arts winter residency. Sometimes I move around the house to get a new perspective. Here's my set up earlier this week in the guest room, with Mercury (gray kitty) and Blizzard (white kitty).

Meanwhile, Greg was working on a novel of his own down in the kitchen. Aren't those bangs hilarious in this picture?

But just because we're busy doesn't mean that there's no seasonal cheer to be found. Cynsations will be taking a brief holiday hiatus and resume posting on Dec. 28.

But first, here's a peek inside my house. Below is one of my newest ornaments, created by children's book illustrator Joy Fisher Hein--an angel kitty reading a book (does she know me or what?). The rest are self-explanatory. Enjoy and happy holidays!



Giveaway Reminder

Enter to win one of three signed copies of Watersmeet by Ellen Jensen Abbott (Marshall Cavendish, 2009), one of three copies of The Pillow Book of Lotus Lowenstein by Libby Schmais (Delacorte, 2009), and/or one of three signed copies of Ninjas, Piranhas, and Galileo by Greg Leitich Smith (Little, Brown, 2005)!

To enter, email me (scroll and click envelope) with your name and snail/street mail address and type "Watersmeet" and/or "The Pillow Book of Lotus Lowenstein" and/or "Ninjas, Piranhas, and Galileo" in the subject line (Facebook, JacketFlap, MySpace, and Twitter readers are welcome to just privately message me with the name in the header; I'll write you for contact information, if you win). Note: one copy of each book will be reserved for a teacher, librarian, or university professor of youth literature; those eligible in these categories should indicate their affiliations in the body of their entry messages. The other two will go to any Cynsations readers!

Deadline: midnight CST Dec. 31.

I came home from my writing group Monday night and smelled evergreen. While I was gone, my husband, our daughter, and her friend Zach had not only picked out a tree, brought it home, and decorated it, but did marathon wrapping, so even presents were beneath. I heard the unmistakable laughter of our friend Steve mixing with James Taylor music. Here are Em and Zach with our dog, Louis.



My husband is calling this our Fugitree as this year we decorated with Fugitiod toys that are just out, based on a comic he wrote and drew with Kevin Eastman long ago. Fugitoid has always been one of my favorite characters of theirs: a cute, sweet robot with a poignant back story. The tree was the idea of Emily, whose internship at a toy company was extended to a part-time job doing PR: she picked up some silver balls at Target to augment the glitter.



Now it’s a day of baking, with some writing and knitting by the tree. I showed Emily and Zach the first hat I ever knit. There was a stretched out “ohhhh” as the air wobbled with their trying to catch a balance between honesty and kindness. Then I took out my scarf, and they breathed in relief that truth and compassion weren't so spread apart: “THAT’S nice.” Okay the hat, which you may note is not pictured. I’m not claiming it as a thing of beauty, but it’s recognizable as something that goes on a head. And a reminder that we learn by our mistakes, even though, hey, I already remembered that. The hat marked the end knitting class, but as we left yesterday we said we hoped to see each other in what the yarn shop calls drop-ins, but I referred to as Knitting Rehab. Emily wants a Harry Potter scarf and I bought the yarn yesterday for her okay on Gryffindor colors.



Onward to baking, and slipping in writing during quiet moments. And reveling in having family around. (But why isn’t Liz in Massachusetts? And Ben and Kelly, we hope to see you and Ian soon!) Happy holidays to all my friends!

To finish this series of Christmas memories posts, I thought I’d share the traditions I have now, with my husband and son.

Like we did when I was a kid, we get out the tree and the decorations the weekend after Thanksgiving.  I used to spend two weeks straight making all sorts of candies and cookies like my mom did, but in recent years, I’ve scaled it back.

Some years, we spend Christmas Eve with the same friends we have Thanksgiving with.  During the years they’re spending the holidays with family out of town, it’s just the three of us.  When we have it at our house, we have homemade chicken tenders and pizza plus crackers and cheeses and chips and dips. 

The last hour before T goes to bed, we watch Mr. Krueger’s Christmas, read the Christmas story from the Bible, and let T open his Christmas Eve present.  Sometimes pajamas, sometimes slippers, this year a fleece blanket. 

Once T is in bed, Chriss and I rearrange the living room so we can move the tree in from the dining room.  We wrap whatever presents haven’t been wrapped yet, fill the stockings (and lock them in his office so Chloe, our cat with the sweet tooth, won’t try to eat the candy), and set up the webcam so that we’ll be ready to share Christmas morning with my parents. 

On Christmas morning, T comes into our room and we try to get him to wait as long as we can so that my parents don’t have to wake up quite so early.  (They’re three hours behind us).  This year, I don’t think we’ll be as successful as we were in previous years though, now that he’s old enough to be impatient.  When it’s time, I go downstairs to turn on the lights, put the stockings under the tree, and call my parents.  Chriss gets the webcam and the video camera going and then we call T downstairs.

Just like when I was growing up, we each take turns opening gifts so we can all see what everyone got.  After the presents are opened and my parents sign off to go back to bed, we have caramel rolls and hot chocolate for breakfast.

Chriss turns A Christmas Story on and plays it on constant repeat throughout the day.  We make our phone calls to extended family while T plays with his new toys and I make dinner—a smaller version of Thanksgiving.    

Some of our traditions have carried over from my childhood, some from Chriss’, and some we’ve made on our own.  They’re always things I love and look forward to and bring us closer as a family.  And really, when I think about Christmas memories and traditions, it’s always family that comes to mind first. 

Yesterday's Urban Dictionary word of the day was santaclaustrophobia , a fear of too many Santa Clauses. Too many. As in more than one. But, but...you say. It's true, there are singular Santas that can be quite frightening. Like here and here and here. But that's not what we're talking about with santaclaustrophobia. We're talking red suits and white beards galore. Jolly, jolly times a thousand. Sound like just the stuff of nightmares? No, no. Take a look:





Santa Con!! Wikipedia explains this nonsensical event here. Santa Con happens in many big cities usually around the 10th of December.

The above pics are from Santa Con NYC--taken a few years ago. Though I was also lucky enough to catch it this year on my way out from critique group. I love, love, love, love Santa Con. Almost as much as I love reuniting with my NYC critique group, but not quite. Because you gotta admit the awesomeness of a ladybug reunion is well, darn near jolly overload. Now that I live in Boston, I take the bus to NYC every few weeks for critique group. It rocks. So much that if I asked them to, they would dress up as Santa for me so I could get my fix. Ladybugs, Santa can have wings!!

Because whatever the opposite of santaclaustrophobia is, I have that. Get a pile of Santas in the room, and Edith jolliness will occur. 2010 resolution, attend Santa Con as actual Santa. Ideally as a Santa with a book deal. 'Cause you know, top of the resolution list is to kick the pre off my pre-published status. Kick it to the curb! Thunk. So, who's in? Who wants to be a Santa with a book deal?

It's the day before Christmas Eve, and I have to say that I feel like I am finally getting into the spirit. Sure, there's still a level of stress and craziness as I try to juggle everything to do and everyone we have to catch up with. Also, both my daughter and husband have come down with this wicked cold, so I am doing all I can to rally my immune system so I don't go down as well. I really thought we'd get a pass on being sick for Christmas this year, after the debacle that was last year, when we all came down with a throw-up bug on Christmas Eve. THAT was fun. If I have to pick, I'd much rather have a sniffle and a cough than that. Although not being sick at all would be, like, the best gift ever. I'm putting out extra cookies and milk for Santa in the hopes he'll deliver.

Meanwhile, last night I had two of my best girlfriends over for pigs in a blanket (tofu pups for Dana) spinach dip, pizza, wine and Love Actually. It was just what I needed to mark what I decided was the official beginning of my vacation. When you are self employed, and in the midst of a tricky novel, it's REALLY hard to just stop working, even when you know you should. And I should, because my house is so incredibly messy, and none of my gifts are wrapped, and I'm totally exhausted and surrounded by sick folk. Plus, holidays are supposed to be relaxing, right? Please say yes. Anyway, so after having two great work days in my new office---which is so great, I can't even tell you---I'm stepping back. Clocking out until at least next week, and hopefully the new year. It will be good for me, and hopefully for the book as well.

I know it will be good for my house and the clutter that is piled up everywhere. I'm about to grab a garbage bag, put my hair in a ponytail, and get down to it. But before I do, I just want to wish all of you, wherever you are and whatever you happen to believe in, the happiest and healthiest of holidays. It's been a crazy year, busy and fun and stressful (at times) but I would not change a thing. I'm so grateful for all your support, for the fact that you don't judge me too harshly for watching so much TV (hello, Jersey Shore!) and that you read this silly blog so faithfully. You are my co-workers, in a lot of ways, the folks around my water cooler, who make those sort of lonely work days so much more fun. Thank you for that. It means more than you know.

Okay, off to clean. Maybe I'll chug down an Emergen-C first, though.....

Have a great a safe holiday, everyone!

It occurred to me a few weeks ago, watching some figure skating, that it's undergoing the same sort of slump as publishing. I mean, seriously, if I hear Swan Lake or Romeo & Juliet or some truncated, horribly edited version of Rhapsody in Blue or An American in Paris again as a program, it'll be too soon.

As for the skating itself? Feh. It's all "let's grab the blade, yank it up behind our heads, in as many improbable (not to mention, boring) variations as we possibly can." All because of the points. I can't remember the last time I saw a skater who actually appeared to be skating to the music. (Oh, for the days of Paul Wylie and the Brians and Michelle Kwan.) It really hit me this morning as I was listening to the soundtrack from the film, The Duchess. Even twenty-five-odd years after my last competitive skate, I'll still hear a particularly evocative piece of music and begin choreographing programs and long for the feel of the ice beneath my blades. Except the likelihood that I'll ever hear this music on the ice any time soon isn't high. Because it's not what the judges want to hear/see. I remember some years back, the commentators on a competition talking about why you heard the same pieces of music over and over and for example, over again. And the commentator who was a former skater (might have been Paul Wylie, actually) said it was always a risk to use something new because the judges liked the familiar. Not that they objected to new music and unique costumes of anything, but generally, they wanted to see certain kinds of costumes and hear certain pieces of music, ostensibly so they could focus on the skating.

Which would explain why these days, it's difficult to tell one skater apart from the next unless someone really deviates wildly-- then they're branded a "rebel" and have to be that much better in order to succeed. Sound familiar?

Within the context of publishing, this is equal to the "We want different, but not too different. Stick within the parameters we set (i.e. the rules) and you'll have a better chance of succeeding." Yes, both disciplines are grounded in having a firm grasp of fundamentals; tools that allow your a greater ease in creating your art, however, in the end, those fundamentals aren't what I'm talking about.

What people seem to forget is that at their core, both of these pursuits are first and foremost, creative expression. You're inspired by the music to create beautiful forms on the ice, to leap high on an explosive note, to spin or glide in a spiral or spread eagle during a long, elegant passage, to recreate a pattern of rapid staccato notes with light, effortless footwork.

You read a news story or experience an event or are privy to an exchange and a story idea is born and you want to express it in narrative and dialogue. You use the ingrained basics to create art, be it via movement or language, but ultimately, it's your individual form of expression.

And the thing is, I'm just not seeing the joy being expressed. These pursuits are hard enough to master on their own-- there's got to be something driving that desire and generally, it's a joy in what you do. Yeah, there's a large measure of competitive fire involved too, but in the end, it's the joy that's the real payoff.

So I find myself wondering, not for the first time, at what point did we allow the gatekeepers to become so important we decided it was okay to sacrifice creative expression at the altar of oft-times arbitrary rules? That it was okay to sacrifice the joy?

Just to update, the Goodreads giveaway is here: http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/2280-gentlemen-prefer-succubi

If you signed up for my giveaway, you can sign up for the Goodreads one as well (I’m not cross referencing!) so you have two chances, more or less, to win one of four copies.

Mirrored from Jill Myles Dot Com.

• 09:00 Today my birthday present was feeling halfway decent for the first time in 4 days. Yay! #
• 09:29 Spent my iTunes gift card in 30 minutes. Bought winter /holiday albums by Sting and Tori Amos. Also lots of Rock Band songs. Eclectic? Me? #

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So... um... if the caramels don't set up, it's because I dropped Angel's digital thermometer into the boiling vat of sugary awesomeness about two degrees before they were done. Fudge was also accomplished today, with less "OMGOHNOEZ/flail*

Quick notes:

a) I got a rewrite request today. I was lying awake this morning (at 4:30) and thinking about this very story. I was thinking that I didn't make something clear enough, and fretting over whether the editor would like the ending. Fortunately, the editor did like the ending (YAY!) and after reading his notes, it seems that he agrees I failed to make that something clear. He evidently did see where I was intending to go with it...but really had to squint to do so. So I'll definitely be rewriting this one.

b) I leveled up in RWA today. Hear that? I'm an RWA PRO now. (It does not mean what you think it means.) The next level is novel publication by approved publisher, so there's a huge leap.

c) You know you're committed to a story when you start researching sanitary napkin belts of that time period. No, I don't think they'll appear in print, but I need the background information. My favorite bit here is the advertising claim that they will "protect the wearer from cold in inclement weather." (Yes, I do understand why this is the case. I just find it vastly amusing that it made it into the ad copy.)

The week in California seemed to fly past. Since I arrived home I have been busy getting things in order for Christmas. After preparing the goodies to take to the newlyweds' house in Christmas and making a pot of chili, I settled down not for a nap but to finish reading TALES OF THE MADMAN UNDERGROUND (Viking, 2009). The entire story takes place in a little under one week in September of 1973. It opens as Karl Shoemaker prepares for his first day of the school year, the first day of being NORMAL according to his plan. But things are far from normal in the Shoemaker household. Karl cares for his mother whose general condition is either drunk or hung over. Other duties include shoveling cat excrement off any flat surface (including his bed), loosening a window sash so her does not get locked out after his late shift cleaning the local burger joint is over, and repairing anything around his house. Karl wants just to be left alone this year, to not be part of the Madman Underground, a therapy group he has been part of for quite a few years. He just wants to be one of the other kids, the normal ones, hang on to graduation and then join the Army. Life, however, is just not going to cooperate with Karl.

Fresh, smart, unique: this book has it all from the totally original Karl Shoemaker and all of the Madman Underground group to the totally believable life of kids who are somehow surviving despite the absolutely crappy lives they have been handed, to the totally natural way the back story unfolds through the eyes of Karl. Lots of other words come to mind: raw, emotional, surprising and always HOPEFUL in a world that seems to have so little hope.