18 August 2010

Something new: A children's Book

STEPH: Keena, thank you so much for having me and caterpillar over for a visit today. "The Giving Meadow" is my first children's book. I wrote it as a play for my church's preschool Easter play in 2009. I showed Vivian (Gilbert Zabel, publisher, 4RV Publishing) and she offered it a contract. It was a pleasant, unexpected surprise.

CATERPILLAR: You're telling me.

STEPH: Telling you what?

CATERPILLAR: Hatching out of that egg! I was surprised, thirsty, and hungry.

STEPH: You were in a meadow. Couldn't you eat the grass?

CATERPILLAR: Grass? Hardly substantial. Good thing I found Frog.

STEPH: Frog?

CATERPILLAR: He shared his water with me.

STEPH: Did you make any other friends in the meadow?

CATERPILLAR: A very nice ladybug shared her grapes and a sweet little bee shared her honey.

STEPH: Grapes and honey? Didn't you get…ah, plump?

CATERPILLAR: I was hungry. Hungry caterpillars get real plump. Then I met snake.

STEPH: A snake? Yikes!

CATERPILLAR: Snake was cool. He shared his apple with me. When I started spinning silk around myself, he got worried and gathered up Frog, Ladybug, and Bee to see if they could help.

STEPH: What happened then?

CATERPILLAR:  You have to read the book!

STEPH: Keena, do you have any strawberries? Just in case?

KEENA: Yes, I do.

"The Giving Meadow" is wonderfully illustrated by Stephen Macquignon. Stephen primarily works in the medium of pen and ink and color digitally. He has had the privilege to work with Director Michael Sporn of Michael Sporn Animation Inc. He is also a monthly contributor for Stories for Children's magazine.

Stephen's children's books with 4RV Publishing include Angeline Jellybean by Crystalee Calderwood and Colors by Dana Warren.

"The First Flag of New Hampshire," by Stephanie, will be released by 4RV Publishing next year. It is a TW/Young Adult story.

GOODIE TIME: Leave a post here on the blog. I'll pick two lucky winners to receive an autographed postcard of the cover. Winners will be drawn out of a hat, and I'll return on 19 AUG to announce them.

Buy Links:

Stephanie
Stephanie on the Web:

 Stephen on the Web:


15 August 2010

Just a spoonful of sugar...or maybe a pound

I've spent a lot of time this summer thinking about the art of diplomacy.

In my current work-in-progress, one of my secondary characters is a diplomat. So far, he hasn't said a word.

And in a way that illustrates how art mirrors life, in all my job interviews this summer, I've been asked what former employers would consider my strengths and weaknesses (or "challenges" if the interviewer has a public relations background).

Now after a few years in the professional world, anyone with an ounce of self-awareness knows what she does well and not so well. So it's a fairly easy question to answer.

I am not a natural-born diplomat.

OK that's an understatement. I can be rather blunt, more than a bit cynical and entirely too likely to say what everyone else is only thinking. I've been told not to admit this to prospective employers, but I figure it's better to give them a heads up. No sense in having them think they've hired Shirley Temple only to find themselves across the conference table from a less-witty (but more sober) Dorothy Parker.

What's interesting is each time I give this answer, the interviewer has smiled and said, "sounds like me. I'm always saying things I shouldn't."

I laugh, but also wonder if he is merely being diplomatic or if diplomacy is truly a rarified skill that we all wish we had, but few actually do. Who among us hasn't said something he shouldn't? How many times have you blurted when you should have been reticent?

After a lot of thought, I've decided that diplomacy isn't the ability to tell someone to go to hell and make him want to go (that's charisma) but the genius to tell hard truths yet still make peace. Mary Poppins reminds us that a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, but finding the correct truth to sugar ratio is a skill worthy of a medieval alchemist.

This insight should help my diplomat character in his struggles to find the words that will prevent war (we'll know for certain after I write that chapter). And hopefully it will remind me to walk a little more carefully through the forest that is human interaction.

After all, writing requires we type what others only think, but reading it and hearing it are two very different things.

11 August 2010

Driven or obsessed?

I got my dining room table back yesterday. No, it hadn't gone anywhere, but when my niece came to visit a few weeks ago, she started a 2,000-piece puzzle, which was so large the table was  only place big enough to spread it out. We ate around the outside edge the first night, but couldn't after that.

The puzzle from Hades, according to my nephew.
The niece left, leaving the barely started puzzle still on the table. For two weeks, I ate on the couch as the puzzle sat untouched. Then I decided I wanted the table back, so I worked on it for five days--dragging my oldest nephew, who's visiting now, into my obsession. We put the last piece in place Tuesday morning.

But we finished. An hour later, I tore the puzzle apart, put it back in its box and had polished up the table. Then I could go back to my other works in progress.

The obvious question, of course, is why didn't I simply box up the unfinished puzzle. Let's call it a personality tick. Books must be finished, as must puzzles, laundry, cleaning, renovations, etc. It may take me days or weeks to complete the task--or I may need to call in sick to finish (did that once while cleaning my house) but I will finish. The closer I get to being done, the more obsessive I become.

There's a fine line between being driven and being obsessed, and I think perspective is the key.

I'm driven when I'm working on a big goal, such as finishing a book, painting the house or finding the perfect pair of shoes. But on a smaller scale, i.e. puzzles and cleaning, it's borderline obsessive. Perhaps it's even detrimental. After all, now that my table is back and ready for use, I've noticed the rest of the house looks a little cluttered...