Sunday, November 16, 2008

INTRODUCING KATIA NOVET SAINT-LOT


When Katia Novet Saint-Lot told me the name of her new picture book was Amadi's Snowman, I was excited. I love snowmen and I thought it might make a great interview during the holidays.

"It's not really a holiday book," she told me.

A book about a snowman that wasn't a holiday story? But when I read the book, I understood. This is a book about discovering the joy of reading. And so our interview begins:



Your love of travel seems to spring from your childhood. Please tell us a little bit about the places where you grew up.

I was born and raised in Paris, France, but my mother is Spanish, and we spent practically all our summers at my aunt's tiny apartment in Malaga, in the south of Spain. Apart from that, we didn't travel much at all. But for some reason traveling held a kind a magic for me. When I was ten years old, I said I wanted to be an ambassador, so I could travel and live in different countries. Of course I didn't understand what being an ambassador means, and anyone who knows me and my very poor diplomatic skills would laugh at the notion that I ever contemplated such a career. But I managed to fulfill my dream of traveling and living in different countries and I'm very grateful for that.

What were you like as a child?

A dreamer, very shy. And from the moment I could read, I always had my head in a book. Can't say I've changed that much.

Where is home for you today?

This is an impossible question for me to answer. I actually wrote a post on my blog about that, recently, after a crazy summer spent visiting a lot of places I've called home. It's hard, when you grow attached to a place and then leave it(whether because you want to or because you have to) to not fall into the nostalgia syndrome.

For instance, New York and Park Slope, in Brooklyn, where I spent six years, definitely feel like home when I go there. But then I also love going back to France and to Spain. So I came up with this concept of the moving bubble. That bubble contains my children, my husband, and my laptop with a WiFi connection(can't forget that) and wherever we land according to our life's circumstances at any given time, that is home. Piper Reed would totally understand this concept, don't you think?

Yes, I believe you're right. When did you start writing?

I have always written. And I always wanted to be a writer. Of course, I started writing in French. I have old files somewhere at my parents' house with plot diagrams and ideas for novels, first chapters, and pages, etc, etc. I worked as a journalist for two years, also, before I moved to England to learn English. I translate novels for a living. I write endless letters and nowadays, emails. As a teenager, my best friend and I exchanged 18-pages letters, on top of the time we spent on the phone. And I kept journals for the longest time. Now, I also blog. But I became serious about trying to become a published writer of fiction when we lived in Nigeria. I took the Children's Institute of Literature course. Now, I can't imagine not writing for children.


Amadi's Snowman is a lovely story about the power of reading. Amadi isn't interested in reading until he discovers a friend reading a book about a snowman. Snow is something completely unknown to Amadi who lives in Nigeria. What inspired this story?

My husband works for UNICEF, and he once told me about the problems they had trying to keep boys in school, as a lot of them dropped out in order to earn quick money doing street business.

How different is the first draft from the bound book?

Very different. The first draft had a fantasy element. First of all, Amadi's name was Ifeanyi. When Ifeanyi noticed this book under the stall, at the market, the boy on the cover talked to him, and they had a conversation. An editor liked it, but her house doesn't publish fantasy, so she asked me to ground the story in reality. That's how Chima, Amadi's friend, came to be.

Dimitrea Tokunbo's illustrations are bright and cheerful. Did anything about the illustrations surprise you? If so, please explain.

Dimitrea's illustrations are exactly what I imagined in terms of colors, except that I had to see them to be able to say, "Wow, yes, that's exactly it!" I adore the way she painted all the backgrounds, and the reddish, warm atmosphere of her paintings. I find her style incredibly vivid and powerful. And the snowman as a cloud is such a fabulous idea! I must say that I saw the boys hiding under the stall at the market, but Dimitrea chose to have Amadi standing behind Chima and pointing something out in the book. It puts more emphasis on Amadi's curiosity, and allows us to see how Chima is really bothered by the intruder. I also find the way she uses frames, and has characters coming out of those frames, very interesting.

When you write a picture book, what is your process?

I feel I'm still so new at this, but characters seem to drive my process. I see a character in a situation, or I feel a character's feelings, and that's where it all begins. It's like an urge to explore and express these feelings. Settings also play an important part. Sometimes the story writes itself in one go. It was like that with Amadi's Snowman. Then comes the very loooong revision process, submitting to my critique group, etc. I'm very lucky that I love revising.

What do you wish you knew about writing when you first started out?

Mm, interesting question. Maybe knowing how to enjoy the process, as opposed to thinking too much about being published? I don't want to sound philosophical, because frankly, it's like my diplomatic skills. I'm far too stubborn to be philosophical. But writing is something I want to do so bad, and the joy I feel when it works is so incredible, I try more and more to just go along. There are ups and downs, of course, good days when the writing flows, and bad days when nothing comes out, or nothing good anyway. But the more I work at the craft, the more I learn, and the more I try to enjoy the process first and foremost.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

EIGHT WORDS AND A PIE BROUGHT TO YOU BY HAYS ISD LIBRARIANS


If you have perused this website, you know about the writing exercise that my retreat pals and I do at every retreat--Five Words and a Pie. Great things have happened because of this exercise. The most exciting for me resulted in the first words of my book, Part of Me. If you would like to read the details about how that happened visit the example on my writing tips page.



This week I visited eight schools in Hays ISD. So I thought it would be fun to let the librarians give you the
words. Want to play? Here are the simple rules. Select five words from the eight offered. Then write for ten minutes using those words. That's it.
Except that you might want to eat pie after the exercise. It may not be the strawberry peach that I ate at Texas Pie Company in Kyle, but any good pie will do.


Thank you, Karen Kessel(thank), Staci Perkins(hoping), Marilyn Bridges(afghan), Betty Copeland(Mustangs),Ann Harris(slither), Carrie Bartsch(winding), Jeanne Ditta(Library),Dianne Mueller(run). I had a terrific week!

Friday, November 14, 2008

WAS IT HER HAT?


Today is my last day visiting schools in Hays ISD. Located in the Texas Hill Country, the district is one of the fastest growing in the state. The students have been enthusiastic and interested in what I had to say about my writing journey. Judging by their questions, I'm sure there are some future published writers among them.

The Hays librarians spoiled me rotten by putting me up in The Inn Over Onion Creek. This is a writer's dream spot. Yesterday I ate my granola on the porch by the golden lantana spilling over the rock borders. While I watched the morning light spread beyond the hills, turkey buzzards flew back and forth in perfect sequence. And I lost count of the deer that I saw darting between the gnarled trees.

Hays in the childhood home of Katherine Anne Porter and I'm staying in the suite named in her honor. This week, I've read a few chapters in biographies shelved on the fireplace mantel. She was quite a character, not at all ashamed of her love of fine things. She even bought a huge emerald ring with part of her advance for Ship of Fools. And she liked hats. Which is why I tried on the one displayed inside the cedar trunk in my room. I doubt it belonged to her, but a girl can always pretend.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

QUOTE OF THE MONTH


Human life itself may be almost pure chaos, but the work of the artist is to take these handfuls of confusion and disparate things, things that seem to be irreconcilable, and put them together in a frame to give them some kind of shape and meaning.

Katherine Anne Porter

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Saturday, November 8, 2008

UPCOMING EVENTS

SPRING COMMUNITY BOOK FEST
READ, WHITE, AND BOOKS
Saturday, November 15
10:00-3:00
900 Wunsche Loop
Spring, Texas

Open to the Public

For more information: Spring Community Book Fest




ARKANSAS READING ASSOCIATION

November 20, 2008
Luncheon speaker
and Breakout session

Little Rock, Arkansas

Open to membership only

NCTE
San Antonio, Texas

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Signing

Monday, November 24, 2008
NCTE
Conference on English Leadership
San Antonio, Texas

Open to Membership Only

Thursday, November 6, 2008

THE NAPPING RITUAL


When I was three years old, my mother ordered me to take afternoon naps so that she could rest from her exhausting morning of looking after my newborn sister and me. I hated it, staying wide awake the entire time. Each minute that passed felt like an hour. Beginning school was a relief. I would never have to nap, again.

Then one afternoon, about five years ago, I carried a book to the screen porch and stretched out on the daybed. My four legged companion, Bronte joined me, resting her chin on my leg. It was early fall and there was a nip in the air. I covered up with a blanket and began to read. Everything was nice and cozy. The trees filtered the sunlight. The sparrows and juncos chirped. Thirty minutes later, I started to doze. After fighting the urge, I put down the book and succumbed.

Five or ten minutes later I awoke. I swung my legs over to the side of the daybed and sat. I felt great--refreshed and alert. After pouring a cup of coffee, I went back to work on my manuscript.

The next afternoon, I returned to the porch. I tried to retrace everything that had happened the day before. My dog, my book, my blanket. Half an hour later, sleep came. The following day, I repeated the routine. I was like a drug addict, needing my afternoon fix. Who would have suspected I would ever betray my top childhood resentment?

A little guilt slipped inside me. Was I becoming lazy? After all, it was not like great things happened during the nap. I didn't solve any character or plot dilemmas while dreaming. Actually I don't think I dreamed at all. For five to ten minutes, it was as if everything turned off. I doubt a thought existed during that period. If so, I don't remember.

Some snooping on the internet provided reassurance. I learned I was in good company. Eleanor Roosevelt, Albert Einstein and Winston Churchill were all nappers. Please don't misunderstand me. I don't have any ambitions to be a first lady, a scientist, or a world leader. I just want to write good books. And maybe in some small way, taking a nap, helps me work toward that goal. It sounds like a good excuse anyway.