tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32334037363432369522024-03-14T02:27:30.110-04:00Welcome to Ramble StreetRamble Street is a location in my debut middle-grade novel. It's also the place on the internet where I get to, well, ramble...nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-46396487379068378262019-02-02T10:26:00.000-05:002019-02-02T10:26:24.493-05:00Castle of Concrete by Katia Raina<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0px;">
<b> </b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I get to celebrate my friend Katia Raina's new YA book </span><b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Castle of Concrete! </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's more about the book below but first, I want to tell you about Katia. A decade ago, we met for the first time outside at a local restaurant, chatted about writing and life, and by the end of the night I had a new friend. Katia <a href="https://katiaraina.wordpress.com/2010/06/04/dreaming-big-in-1969-interview-with-author-nan-marino/" target="_blank">wrote about that day </a>on her blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Katia is one of the most interesting and thoughtful people I know. And she's fearless. When she lived here in New Jersey, we'd meet at a local diner where she'd share her adventures. Katia grew up in the Soviet Union during its collapse and that's where her new book takes place. During one of our writing sessions, she talked about writing a book based on those experiences. I'm so happy this book is going to be out in the world. I can't wait to read it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's the description of her new book from her publisher:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Set in the final year of Soviet Russia’s collapse, this stunning debut novel tells the story of Sonya, a timid Jewish girl reuniting with her once-dissident mother and falling in love with a mysterious muddy-eyed boy who may be an anti-Semite. All the while, Sonya’s mama is falling in love also—with shiny America, a land where differences seem to be celebrated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Unfortunately this interview was virtual since she's move out of state. But I'm thrilled to be able to ask Katia these questions and to learn more about her book: </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #444950; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How did your experiences as a teen growing up in the Soviet Union during that time influence your story?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was a bit younger than Sonya during the events taking place in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but many experiences growing up in those turbulent times inspired the book and in many ways made it what it is. The big, life-defining moments like first romance, starting a new school and reuniting with my mother after a long separation, hearing anti-Semitic slurs casually tossed around by strangers -- and worse -- friends. But it wasn't just the big things. It was playing the piano to deal with feelings, and hanging out on construction sites. It was rides in crowded buses and visiting a McDonald's for the first time. It was standing up to a teacher. (There is a moment in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete</span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, where Sonya uses a quote from a great Russian author to try and defend her dignity against a teacher, while expressing a very Russian sentiment that beauty is important, physical beauty included. Specifically, when the teacher quotes Tolstoy at her as saying "Modesty beautifies," Sonya fires back with a line from Chekhov: "Everything in a person must be beautiful." Well, this bit was based on a real exchange between an adolescent me and my sarcastic teacher. Of course now I am a teacher, myself, and I make it a point to never make a young person feel small because of their occasionally questionable clothing choices. :)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Having given you all these examples, it's important that I make very clear that this book </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fiction. Sonya has a lot in common with the young me, but we are not the same person and the same things didn't happen to us. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is woven in equal part of memory, research and imagination.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #444950; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You started this story years ago (I remember us talking about it in the diner).</span><span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #444950; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Can you talk about how this book came to be?</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started this book when my baby daughter was just born. Now, in the year it's being published she is 15, going on 16, just like Sonya. Now </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that's </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a scary thought! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have always loved writing, especially short stories and poetry. As a young mother, I decided to quit a demanding journalist job to raise my then-toddler son and suddenly found myself with time and inner space for creativity. So I signed up for a correspondence course at the Institute of Children's Literature -- because I am that person who works well with creative guidance -- and started experimenting with goofy short stories for little kids and picture books. At the end of the course, working with author Kristi Holl, I decided to start a novel. That's when the ideas for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">came flooding in.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This book didn't come from a single lightbulb moment. It was more a collection of memories and many little ideas that came together into a big one in a process so magical I am having a hard time describing it or locating its origins. I took strong feelings lingering from adolescence, including the urge for romance, the need for connection and the fear of rejection and combined it with big questions, like why do people hate others so much? Why do people </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">need </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">an "other?" That's how the idea for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was born.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; color: #444950; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>What was your writing process for this book?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I poured my ideas into an outline and started. Kristi at the Institute of Children's Literature loved the first chapter and encouraged me to keep at it. The first draft writing took me about three months. It was so much fun and so easy. Little did I know that the revision process for this story would stretch over years and years. I spent many days, mornings and evenings, luxuriating in the setting and consumed by the characters, as I was getting to know them better and better with each pass. Of course there were many dark moments as well. There would be times when I'd say to this book, "Okay, story. Whatever you have to share, share it now, or be done with it. Because I can't do this forever, you know. This is a heads-up: ready or not, I am moving on." And I did move on, over and over, on to other manuscripts, other revisions. I enrolled in Vermont College of Fine Arts, I explored other ideas. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The traditional advice is: start a story, finish it, move on. It's good advice, and I tried so, so hard to follow it. Yet, gently but persistently, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle of Concrete, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">would always find a way to rope me back in. I re-read, I tinkered. I reconsidered. I got feedback from writer friends and a few publishing industry professionals who loved </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Castle </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in its earliest, most imperfect incarnations and whose passionate guidance absolutely helped shape the book it would become. I took the feedback and revised, then revised </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">again. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.2em; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hopefully this give you an idea. :) That was the process, just scratching for the truth and seeing it come slowly forward. Until I could feel like yes, this was the story I had been trying to tell. This was the song I had been trying to sing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Thank you so much for answering these questions, my friend. You can learn more about Katia and her new book by <a href="https://katiaraina.wordpress.com/">visiting her blog</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Congratulations Katia! </i></span></div>
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nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-50428855700774250092014-05-27T01:09:00.001-04:002014-05-27T10:41:06.168-04:00The Writing Process Blog Tour<br />
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Tamara Ellis Smith asked me to participate in the <i>Writing Process Blog Tour</i>. Here's Tamara's <a href="http://smithwright.blogspot.com/"> post </a>on <b>Kiss the Earth , </b>a blog she shares with author Sharry Phelan Wright. How can you not love a writing blog that is named after a line in a poem written by the poet and zen master Thich Nhat Hanh?<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e7ZiFzxRSyc/U4QNogyXwwI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ATR-qSu51Xw/s1600/Tam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e7ZiFzxRSyc/U4QNogyXwwI/AAAAAAAAAtc/ATR-qSu51Xw/s1600/Tam.jpg" height="320" width="278" /></a>I met Tamara in a unusual way. When <b>Neil Armstong is My Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me</b> first came out I found a commercial on YouTube from a boy who had read the book. It was amazing. As an author, there is nothing better than watching a commercial about your book that was written and acted by a fifth-grader. The boy had long curly hair that bounced when he spoke. At the time I was starting <b>Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace</b>. I was so inspired by the boy in the YouTube commercial that I gave the main character, Elvis Ruby, the same long curly hair. It became Elvis's trademark. I wrote to the teacher to thank her and got a lovely email back from the boy's mom, who also just happened to be a middle grade book author. So that's how we met. Talk about a small world. Recently Tamara announced that she had received a two book deal with the publisher Schwartz & Wade! Her first book, <b>The Marble Boys, </b>comes out in August 2015. <br />
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Here are the questions from the blog tour.<br />
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<b>What am I currently working on?</b><br />
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I'm working on a middle grade novel. The main character is a girl who believes she has a certain psychic power and she doesn't want it at all. The girl has a very strong relationship with her grandparents and I'm really enjoying writing about that part of the story. She is twelve. There is a fourteen year old boy who seems to like her. This is my first story where there may be a little bit of a romance.<br />
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does my work differ from others of its genre?</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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That's a difficult question. When I'm working on a story, I'm not thinking about genre. My first book was historical fiction. The next one had a tiny bit of magical realism. This one seems to be somewhere between a fantasy and magical realism. One thing they all have in common is that there is always a misfit, a character who clearly doesn't belong. My stories always involve them navigating relationships and having them trying to find their way.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b>Why do I write what I write?</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b> </b></span></span>I never intentionally set out to write middle grade, but I have noticed that most of my characters are somewhere between the ages of ten to fourteen. I love reading middle grade books. They are fun, often philosophical and always filled with hope and promise. It is such an important time of growth, where kids are taking their first steps into an adult world yet they haven't lost their childhood abilities to imagine and to wonder. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></i></span>
<b><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">How does my individual writing process work?</span></span></span></i></span></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"> I wish my process was more of a process. I'm in awe of writers who say they can write outlines or that they always start a certain way. For me, every book is different. It usually starts when I think of a character and then think about how the character would interact with other people. I try to get to know my characters before I even begin to write. Normally I start thinking about them while I'm finishing up a book. </span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">Each book comes out a different way. <b>Neil Armstrong is My Uncle</b> was all about this angry girl. Once I had her voice down, I was able to write. She was loud and determined -- so it was easy to let her run with the story. </span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">For <b>Hiding Out at The Pancake Palace</b>, I had to write pages of back story before I could understand what was happening. In this current book, I'm writing out of order. When I see a scene, I write it. I'm trying to make sure I understand what the main character is really after. The good thing about writing out of order is that I already have how the story will end. </span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">One thing I know for certai</span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">n is that</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"> I hate first drafts. I love revision.</span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"> Next up on the tour:</span></span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">Katia Raina </span></span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JDCVB06MdBk/U4QathVfWVI/AAAAAAAAAtw/kPs3Zw6iDtQ/s1600/katia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JDCVB06MdBk/U4QathVfWVI/AAAAAAAAAtw/kPs3Zw6iDtQ/s1600/katia.jpg" height="186" width="200" /></a></span></i></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">Katia writes poetry and novels for young adults, while pursuing an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. I met Katia when she asked to interview me for her blog after my first book came out</span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">. By the time the evening was over, we were friends. </span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">When it comes to writing, she is fearless. I've learned so much from her. </span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">Katia has </span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">already posted her answers to <a href="http://katiaraina.wordpress.com/2014/05/27/in-no-mans-land-the-writing-process-blog-tour/">hop on over to her wonderful blog </a>and see her reply.</span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; display: inline ! important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 17.8048px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></span></i></span><br />
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-66435042099909182212014-05-01T07:43:00.000-04:002014-05-04T09:43:35.912-04:00Jake celebrates HUM!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9AYii9EEoZM/U2IuAuE_CkI/AAAAAAAAAs8/T-Ui01rocmE/s1600/zjakehum.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9AYii9EEoZM/U2IuAuE_CkI/AAAAAAAAAs8/T-Ui01rocmE/s1600/zjakehum.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Jake is convinced that if you listen hard to a daisy you will hear its secret hum. That's because he's spent the last few months listening to me gush about Tracy Holczer's truly amazing middle grade debut, "The Secret Hum of a Daisy." <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lOqad6iXBTM/U2IvvifDjmI/AAAAAAAAAtI/Bs9jfLt-QEw/s1600/zsecrethum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lOqad6iXBTM/U2IvvifDjmI/AAAAAAAAAtI/Bs9jfLt-QEw/s1600/zsecrethum.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a></div>
Today HUM goes out into the world! Congratulations HUM! And congratulations Tracy!<br />
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To find out more about Tracy and her lovely book <a href="http://www.tracyholczer.com/index.html">here's the link to her website</a>. <br />
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When we're not listening to daisies here in New Jersey, we will be doing a happy dance to celebrate the special day. nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-17655453429897740582014-04-14T07:59:00.000-04:002014-05-04T09:41:40.265-04:00Jake Celebrates the Paperback Release!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ksbqV18a9Q4/U0vMr6PUSfI/AAAAAAAAAss/aLLBQsp25SM/s1600/jakepaperback.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ksbqV18a9Q4/U0vMr6PUSfI/AAAAAAAAAss/aLLBQsp25SM/s1600/jakepaperback.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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The paperback for Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace is out in the world! Jake cannot control his excitement. Here he is celebrating in that crazy Jake way.<br />
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Actually Jake seems to really enjoy books. He was the first to unwrap my author copies (and he did this while we were all out of the house). When I got home, the box was opened and all of the copies were transported to Jake's favorite spot under the stairs. <br />
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Alas. This wasn't the first time he's done this. He enjoys paperbacks but he's been known to nibble on a hard cover too. Jake likes to sink his teeth into a book. <br />
<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-21930799928410727902014-04-01T10:10:00.003-04:002014-04-01T12:19:50.393-04:00Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace is in Paperback: April 10th <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFC_I0IR80k/Uzq4mCP9gOI/AAAAAAAAAsM/c5DY1BG-peY/s1600/paperback+front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JFC_I0IR80k/Uzq4mCP9gOI/AAAAAAAAAsM/c5DY1BG-peY/s1600/paperback+front.jpg" height="320" width="218" /></a></div>
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As an author, I'm beginning to notice things about book design that I never saw as a reader. <br />
Check out the paperback version of <b>Hiding Out At the Pancake Palace</b>.<br />
Notice the information you get from the front cover. At the top is a one sentence teaser that tells what the book is about (I did <b>not </b>come up with this clever one liner.). They also managed to get the "an NPR Best Book of the Year" placed in the top left corner. At the bottom of the cover, there's the title of my other book so that the reader can make that connection. <br />
And then there are the lovely images. The sunglasses hint that someone is hiding (and they make the book look fun!). Even the blueberries are there for a reason. In Aunt Emily's Pancake Palace and in the Pinelands of New Jersey (where the book takes place) blueberries are important. And how can anyone resist the yummy stack of pancakes with the gooey font of the title melting right over them? <br />
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In the back of the book there's a longer description to give the reader a better feeling for what the book is about and some quotes from the reviews. Sometimes when you put a lot of text into a small space it looks overwhelming. But not in this case. That is because the quotes from the reviews are served up on white plates with a fork right next to them! <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hzoSRBfS3iw/Uzq-Z3NeWpI/AAAAAAAAAsc/q1ntGjvvDpM/s1600/paperbackback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hzoSRBfS3iw/Uzq-Z3NeWpI/AAAAAAAAAsc/q1ntGjvvDpM/s1600/paperbackback.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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By the way, those blueberries that are on the back cover are also featured in the beginning page of each chapter.<br />
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Thank you Square Fish for making the book look so delicious and for the time, talent and care you put into the design. <br />
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The paperback comes out on April 10th! nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-62465825392660890802013-12-25T09:23:00.000-05:002013-12-25T09:23:43.397-05:00Toy Trains and a Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzID1_VDOGb1Ms2HJUn2ZUiycH0g_979B_RKR5CAoKYBZfw6TqGVtjqTpvj_XRgM8i1UWD3-qLugSebuarEzw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Here's a video of the toy farm that my mom (who is 87) set up at her place in New Hampshire. The trains belonged to my mom's dad. Many of the farm figures did too--although over the decades she added to it. Every year when I was growing up, we set this up around the tree. Some years were more elaborate than others. One year we had train tracks that went around the entire house. You had to step over them every time you went into a new room. The Christmas tree in the center of the farm is one of my favorite things. It was made during the Great Depression from old scrap metal from a World War I fighter plane.You'll see a thanks at the end of this to my brother and his friend. They're the ones who set up the train board so my mom could arrange her farm. The video was made by my niece. Enjoy!<br />
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Hope whatever holiday you're celebrating is special! Good health and happiness in the new year! nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-23077427271643396752013-10-02T07:47:00.000-04:002013-10-02T07:47:45.711-04:00Yes. I Was Nervous at The Brooklyn Book Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCRNjG-c8GM/UkrebdTKMaI/AAAAAAAAArE/nLZPMoKpCJ4/s1600/brooklyn+book+festival.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCRNjG-c8GM/UkrebdTKMaI/AAAAAAAAArE/nLZPMoKpCJ4/s1600/brooklyn+book+festival.JPG" /></a></div>
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I was a panel moderator at the Brooklyn Book Festival. It was called "A Great Big Beautiful World" and was filled with star-studded authors.</div>
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In the picture on the left is <b>Sonia Manzano</b>, actress, author of 2013 Pura Belpre Honor Book <i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1380712239202_2068">The Revolution of Evelyn Serrano </i> and Sesame Street icon. Sonia was the first Maria on Sesame Street and she wrote for that program too.</div>
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Next to her is the award-winning and Emmy-nominated screenwriter (of films like <i>Daddy Day Care</i> and <i>The Shaggy Dog) </i><b>Geoff Rodkey. </b>Geoff is the author of the extremely funny adventure series, <i>The Chronicles of Egg. </i></div>
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On the far right is <b>Katherine Applegate, </b>the 2013 winner of the John Newbery Medal for the years most distinguished contribution to children's literature. Katherine won for her beloved book, <i>The One and Only Ivan</i>. </div>
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I'm the one in the crazy-colored scarf. The picture was taken moments before the discussion started.</div>
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Here's what I was thinking when the picture was being taken:</div>
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The average person runs at about 8 miles per hour (random fact that I know because besides being a writer, I'm also a librarian-and librarians are fountains of odd trivia and random facts)</div>
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The location of the Brooklyn Book Festival is about 120 miles from where I live in South Jersey (Google Maps)</div>
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Subtract three miles from the average running time because I'm an out-of-shape, middle-aged person. (I'm being generous about my running abilities but let's go with it)</div>
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Add in a few hours because I'm not familiar with the borough of Brooklyn and at some point I'd get lost.</div>
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Add in a few more hours because even though I've lived in Jersey for seven years, I'd get lost there too.</div>
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Estimate that due to adrenaline I could keep running until I got home</div>
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And the answer is:</div>
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38 hours</div>
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That's how long it would have taken for me to be sitting in my living room if I started running for the hills (or in this case the Pinelands of New Jersey).</div>
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38 hours is not long at all.</div>
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To say I was a awe-struck and nervous about being in the company of such amazing authors, who are creative and talented in so many ways, was an understatement. </div>
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There was no need for nerves.</div>
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It turned out to be great fun.</div>
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Sonia Manzano gave thoughtful insightful answers.</div>
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Goeff Rodkey made the audience laugh.</div>
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Katherine Applegate was witty and charming.</div>
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Middle graders, who were in the audience, asked most of the questions.</div>
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And I'm glad I stayed.</div>
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Here's <a href="http://geoffrodkey.com/2013/09/27/best-panel-discussion-ever/" id="yui_3_7_2_1_1380712239202_2096" rel="nofollow" style="color: #2862c5; outline: 0px;" target="_blank"><span id="yiv9633944580yui_3_7_2_35_1380658994056_163" style="color: #0066cc;">Geoff Rodkey's blog post about the event and yes he called it "the best panel ever". And you can see Katherine Applegate's tweet about it on his blog too.</span></a></div>
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The picture was taken by my editor Nancy Mercado, who is the one who got me the panel moderating gig (thanks Nancy!) </div>
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-64351283674370125602013-09-01T12:01:00.000-04:002013-09-01T15:23:16.170-04:00A Book Tour at Albert Music Hall<br />
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If you want to hear music in the Pinelands of New Jersey, go to Albert Music Hall.<br />
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There's nothing like it anywhere. Every Saturday night, musicians gather to perform oldies, folk music, country, bluegrass and songs that celebrate the Pinelands' unique culture. It's not only locals who enjoy the music. People from all over visit Albert Hall. Folk music legend Pete Seeger performed there twice.<br />
The musical tradition started way back in the 1950s when two brothers, Joe and George, held gatherings at their deer farm. Joe played a washtub bass and George played the violin. The gatherings got so popular, they moved to a building in Waretown. When that building burned down, the music continued in a parking lot. Since the 1990's Albert Hall has been located right next to the Frederic Priff Elementary school.<br />
In <b>Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace</b>, the musically-gifted boy, Elvis Ruby and his musically-challenged friend, Cecilia find their way to Albert Hall.<br />
Since this is one of the places that the book characters go, I thought the book should take a tour too.<br />
Last night, <b>Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace</b> visited Albert Music Hall.<br />
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Below are some pics:<br />
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Here's the book hanging out in the parking lot outside of the Hall. The violin is borrowed from one of the performers. <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eTMJhJXfdk4/UiNNnziWAQI/AAAAAAAAApw/Z-VRYV1e1-E/s1600/ahviolin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eTMJhJXfdk4/UiNNnziWAQI/AAAAAAAAApw/Z-VRYV1e1-E/s320/ahviolin.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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When you first go into Albert Hall, you're greeted by the volunteers at the gift stand (everyone who works there is a volunteer. The place is filled with people who care about music and about preserving the folklore and culture of the Pinelands. You can feel their dedication as soon as you step inside) <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K4f9J1h_smA/UiNZAoSzCtI/AAAAAAAAAqA/fE2I7GyI2Hk/s1600/ahconcessionstand.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K4f9J1h_smA/UiNZAoSzCtI/AAAAAAAAAqA/fE2I7GyI2Hk/s320/ahconcessionstand.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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On the other side is the snack bar. One of the characters in <b>Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace</b> raves about their pies (featured in the picture below). There are cakes, coffee, and hot dogs too. You can sit in the back of the auditorium, listen to the performers on stage and enjoy some great food.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9gSwz3snVVU/UiNaBxDq-mI/AAAAAAAAAqM/alBKX6oWfHk/s1600/ahsnackbar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9gSwz3snVVU/UiNaBxDq-mI/AAAAAAAAAqM/alBKX6oWfHk/s320/ahsnackbar.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Forgive the quality of the picture below. But this is the stage and auditorium at Albert Music Hall.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EfueBZPh28g/UiNdyQ_7wEI/AAAAAAAAAqw/faPFusv2KvU/s1600/ahstage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EfueBZPh28g/UiNdyQ_7wEI/AAAAAAAAAqw/faPFusv2KvU/s320/ahstage.JPG" width="240" /> </a></div>
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One of the most unique features of Albert Music Hall is the Pickin' Shed. This is a separate building where anyone can bring in their instruments and play. </div>
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Normally this place is packed with people. Last night, the music was great. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--y8OA5Ebqnw/UiNdwyIgeMI/AAAAAAAAAqo/o5etg2ggUOM/s1600/ahpshed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--y8OA5Ebqnw/UiNdwyIgeMI/AAAAAAAAAqo/o5etg2ggUOM/s320/ahpshed.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Here's the outside of the Pickin' Shed. On summer nights they open up the doors and the music spills out.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jx1EJ3PhVKU/UiNdwx7CGkI/AAAAAAAAAqs/ikIDWORm420/s1600/ahpshedoutside.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jx1EJ3PhVKU/UiNdwx7CGkI/AAAAAAAAAqs/ikIDWORm420/s320/ahpshedoutside.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
For more info about Albert Music Hall, check out their <a href="http://www.alberthall.org/">webpage</a>. By the way, if you ever do decide to visit, admission for adults is only five dollars.<br />
Thank you to all the volunteers last night who were kind enough to pose with my book. nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-15219219800153107232013-05-11T13:49:00.000-04:002013-05-12T12:20:36.625-04:00Crazy Jake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uCkO0G4weMg/UY572_4uNvI/AAAAAAAAApY/D0RuJwcwH54/s1600/jake+as+eeyore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uCkO0G4weMg/UY572_4uNvI/AAAAAAAAApY/D0RuJwcwH54/s320/jake+as+eeyore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People with giant hearts do crazy things.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Take my friend, Ashley. She's one of the most kind-hearted people I know. A huge animal lover. The type of person who spends her spare time walking dogs at the local shelter.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One day in January Ashley (I call her Ash) was on Facebook and saw a picture of a 6 yr old mastiff/boxer/bull dog mix named Eeyore who was living in a high kill animal shelter. The dog was going to be euthanized the next day. He had hours to live.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ash contacted the rescue organization and saved him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now here's the thing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dog was in Miami. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sh lives in New Jersey.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A little crazy, right?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It turned out that Eeyore had a lot of health problems. They were the type of things that were typical of a dog who had been on his own for a long time. Heart worm. An ear infection that was so bad that he needed an operation. Scratches on his face. If they were treated, they were not life-threatening. But treating them was expensive.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ash is a full-time college student who works part time at the library. She lost her home in Superstorm Sandy so she is not exactly in the financial position to pay for all of this. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now she was responsible for a dog in Miami who has thousands of dollars in vet bills.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It all seemed unsurmountable.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ashley turned to internet. A whole bunch of people with giant hearts donated money for Eeyore, a dog they'd never met.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down in Florida, he was fostered and cared for and nursed back to health by more kindhearted people. It took months.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To be honest, I wasn't paying all that much attention to Eeyore and his story. Oh sure, I asked about him and I donated some money to his cause, but I was too preoccupied with things that were happening in my own life.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't even know that Eeyore was ready for his trip to New Jersey and that Ash was frantically trying to find him a place to stay until another animal-loving co-worker mentioned it to me at the library.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It wasn't like we weren't looking for a dog. Our beloved German Shepard mix, Chi, had passed away in December. During the months that Eeyore was in Florida convalescing, I'd go with Ashley to the local animal shelter. I knew exactly what I wanted: a golden-haired large breed ...like Chi. There were some great dogs at the shelter but the ones that I liked either were about to be adopted by someone else or they were way too high energy for us.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since we didn't have a dog, and Eeyore didn't have a home, it seemed like a natural fit. After a short conversation, my husband and I decided to foster Eeyore.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We met him on Easter morning.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Easter evening, it felt like he had been here forever.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We renamed him Jake.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And he was no longer a foster dog.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is nothing dainty about Jake. He is a bulldozer of a dog, who will jump on your lap if you let him.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His favorite game is when one person stands on one end of the yard and the other stands at the other end. Jake runs back and forth to get pet.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mostly, he likes to chill with his people. Every so often he runs around like a crazy dog, excited, happy and ready to play. He tends to be a goof ball.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that is not why I call him Crazy Jake.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You'd think that a dog who had been abandoned and mistreated, a dog who ended up on death row at an animal shelter would be wary of humans. You'd think he'd keep his heart to himself.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">But Jake is all about love. He rolls over on his back. He gives kisses. He presses against people, waiting to be pet. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He charms everyone he meets. He has a whole group of people who helped with his rescue and every time Ashley posts pictures on Facebook, they cheer him on.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">I've never seen anyone (dog or human) so determined to make a relationship work. From the moment he got here he seemed to love and accept us, and the only thing he wants is to be loved back.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you think about it, that's a little crazy.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A dog who has been abandoned and mistreated being so trusting and so willing to love again.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But obviously Jake is a dog with a giant heart.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And dogs with giant hearts do crazy things...</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC-2AmAdTxM/UY57QR5FcCI/AAAAAAAAApI/A9LRuG9sIv4/s1600/jakemorning1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC-2AmAdTxM/UY57QR5FcCI/AAAAAAAAApI/A9LRuG9sIv4/s320/jakemorning1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake in his new home.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSH3duKc1Ag/UY57OgUeKDI/AAAAAAAAApA/sCtb3l22f8Q/s1600/jakemorning2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSH3duKc1Ag/UY57OgUeKDI/AAAAAAAAApA/sCtb3l22f8Q/s320/jakemorning2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friday morning deep thoughts. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N0G76cNjVVs/UY57QB87QTI/AAAAAAAAApM/WKs-a94s0eA/s1600/jakemorning3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N0G76cNjVVs/UY57QB87QTI/AAAAAAAAApM/WKs-a94s0eA/s320/jakemorning3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being chill</td></tr>
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-7313367647301962362013-05-05T17:45:00.003-04:002013-05-05T18:06:39.937-04:00April was Amazing!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TjXRMtq9pQQ/UYa5Y9kHAbI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ezrsofwRrHM/s1600/launch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TjXRMtq9pQQ/UYa5Y9kHAbI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ezrsofwRrHM/s320/launch2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are days that you will always remember and for me, April 16th was on the top of the list.<br />
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That was the day of the Hiding Out At The Pancake Palace book launch held at the Toms River Branch of the Ocean County Library. (by the way, Hiding out at the Pancake Palace takes place in an imaginary town in Ocean County and I happen to be a librarian there).<br />
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First over one hundred 4th, 5th and 6th graders whose schools were destroyed from Superstorm Sandy came to the library to celebrate the launch! We talked about writing, reading, and dreams.<br />
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There are tons of pictures at the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/oceancountylibrary/sets/72157633258317647/show/">Ocean County Library's flickr pag</a>e<br />
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Each child received a book (donated by my publisher Roaring Brook Press, the Ocean County Library and me). They played games. There was a pancake toss (with beanbags that looked like pancakes). And check out that "hiding out" poster where on the flickr page where each child got to pose for a picture taken by the paparazzi. <br />
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My editor drove all the way from New York to come to party. My colleagues who work in other OC library branches came too. At lunchtime, there was cake made by <a href="http://jennicakesnj.com/">Jennicakes</a> and incredible food, including pancakes (made by the Branch Manager). I spent the day surrounded by people from the Ocean County Library and they are some of the most creative, enthusiastic and talented people I've ever met.<br />
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It was a day filled with surprises: <br />
* One of the fourth grade classes who attended the morning party came dressed as characters from
Neil Armstrong Is My Uncle... They carried posters and spoke in
character too. It was amazing.<br />
* There were presents from friends: flowers, balloons, candy and Brussels Sprouts (this is a great gift but it doesn't make sense until you've read the book)<br />
* I received an Ocean County Library Commission Resolution read by Commissioner James Mullins before my evening talk. It's a official document filled where every paragraph starts with the word WHEREAS. It starts like this "WHEREAS the OC Library Commission has been informed of the publication of Nan Marino's book ... " and then it moves to "WHEREAS the book ....mentions Ocean County landmarks such as Albert Hall and the Pinelands.." When it got to "WHEREAS Nan Marino is a dreamer and when she conducts school visits she reminds kids to dream to..." I started to cry.<br />
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I guess it's true that I am a dreamer, and I dreamed about getting published for a long time. Before you get that call, there are certain things that you think about: Holding your first (and your second) book in your hand. Seeing it on the shelf of a library. Having a child tell you that what you wrote mattered.<br />
But in my wildest craziest dreams I could never have imagined a more perfect book launch or a more perfect day. Thanks to my friends and colleagues at the Ocean County Library, the day was magical.<br />
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-16909735741243107902013-04-16T02:01:00.002-04:002013-04-16T07:05:27.695-04:00Book Launch Bash for Kids Still Affected By Sandy<br />
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The stage is set at the Toms River Branch of the Ocean County Library.<br />
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Here's what's happening today to celebrate the launch of Hiding Out at the Pancake Palace.<br />
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First, in the morning there's a book launch party for school children who are still displaced by Superstorm Sandy.<br />
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Hosted by the Ocean County Library in Toms River NJ, about a hundred fourth, fifth and sixth graders will be treated to fun, crafts and activities. We'll chat a little about writing and reading and they'll get a taste of the first chapter of Hiding Out at The Pancake Palace (which takes place in an imaginary town in Ocean County).<br />
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The people at the library wanted a happy feel good event. It's been a tough six months here. We're still working on restoring and rebuilding. Most of the children invited are from the barrier islands, which were pummeled by Sandy. They're still waiting for their schools to be rebuilt (and
most
likely their homes too). <br />
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As soon as my publisher Roaring Brook Press found out what the Ocean County Library had planned, they generously offered to donate copies of the book. The Ocean County Library donated some too, and of course, I happily joined in. Now every child who attends this party will leave with an autographed copy of the book. There will be some other giveaways. The people at the Ocean County Library know how to throw a party and they've worked so hard to make this day special. <br />
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Hiding Out At The Pancake Palace is about a superstar boy who freezes on stage in a televised talent show. To escape the paparazzi, he hides in the Pinelands of New Jersey. There's lots of local folklore in the story and the famous blueberries, cranberries, sugar sand and music of the Pinelands make their appearance in the book too. I wrote this book way before Sandy, but after seeing how tough and resilient the people of my adopted state have been, I am so proud this story takes place in New Jersey. <br />
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I wish you all could see way the stage is decorated and there's this really cool spinning wheel (like the ones they have at carnivals) that's filled with pancakes and all sorts of references from the book. Oh and there's a amazing cut out poster where kids can put their face in the opening so it looks like they are "hiding out" with the book.<br />
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In the evening there will be a book talk/author event open to the public. So if you happen to be in Toms River New Jersey at 7:00 on April 16th, stop by the library. <br />
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-38527905350933569092012-12-31T20:56:00.000-05:002012-12-31T20:56:03.984-05:00Memories of Chi (2000 to 2012)My dog Chi has been featured in a lot of my posts so I thought it was fitting to celebrate her life here on my blog.<br />
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Here are some of my favorite pictures.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zpSBncc7MII/UOI-8O_nW4I/AAAAAAAAAls/QfANNV0T1kM/s1600/livingroom2+093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zpSBncc7MII/UOI-8O_nW4I/AAAAAAAAAls/QfANNV0T1kM/s320/livingroom2+093.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ERzGqSUwOY/UOI_MWYBNLI/AAAAAAAAAl0/aBdPilgjr3Y/s1600/chiapril09+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ERzGqSUwOY/UOI_MWYBNLI/AAAAAAAAAl0/aBdPilgjr3Y/s320/chiapril09+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Everyone should have the opportunity to be loved by a dog. <br />
<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-78407183415904862802012-12-25T12:10:00.000-05:002012-12-25T12:55:59.752-05:00How the Christmas of Sandy Got Changed to Something More<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F-LEgb7lu8A/UNnQ7KV-SvI/AAAAAAAAAkY/CzszdWGlHS4/s1600/tree1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F-LEgb7lu8A/UNnQ7KV-SvI/AAAAAAAAAkY/CzszdWGlHS4/s320/tree1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My Christmas ornaments were destroyed in hurricane
Sandy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were stored in the back
shed in what I thought was watertight containers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the storm surge came everything was knocked around. Between
the salt water and the mud, they didn’t stand a chance.</div>
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Where I live, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m still in my
house, which is more than I can say for most of my neighbors. During the past
two months, their moldy wet belongings were taken to the curb. Their houses are
gutted and they are scattered who knows where.</div>
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Compared to that, what’s a few decorations?</div>
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Besides, I’m not one of those people who loves Christmas.
Sometimes the holidays overwhelm me. And you can always buy new ornaments,
right?</div>
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CVS had a giant tube of color balls for 15 bucks. For a moment I thought about buying it. I even thought about splurging and getting a few of
those hand-blown glass balls.</div>
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But it wouldn’t be the same. A tree with all new decorations
would be like the ones in the department stores – nice to look at but devoid of sentiment
and meaning.</div>
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It’s the memories in each decoration that makes it special.
This year, while I’m surrounded by the destruction of Sandy and mourning the
death of my father, I’ve been holding tight to memories.</div>
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And much to my surprise, I’ve missed my ornaments. </div>
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Even the ugly ones.</div>
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The year I got married, my mom gave me this hideous fluffy
pink thing that said “First Christmas” in magenta script. (We always hid that
one in the back).</div>
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She redeemed herself the next year when she gave me a wooden sail boat with a white-haired captain that we all agreed looked a little like my dad. </div>
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I had some pretty ones too. And handmade ones. For a while
my sister went through what we liked to call her “felt period.” Every year we
got a new felt masterpiece. </div>
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My favorites were the ornaments with stories that continued
from one year to the next. When I was seven I found a wooden elf with an orange
hat in my brother’s stocking. (Please don’t judge. He used to go through my
stocking too).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years we negotiated
and traded that elf back and forth, and we argued about who got to put it on
the tree. For even more years, we fake-argued. </div>
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I told myself this shouldn’t matter. Compared to what so many others lost, this shouldn't be a big deal.</div>
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Still, I missed my ornaments. I miss my neighbors. I miss the way the streets looked before Sandy. I miss my dad. </div>
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All that missing made me weary. </div>
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I decided to skip
Christmas. Expect for the Christmas Eve trip to the in-laws, I could have pulled
it off too.</div>
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Until I got a package in the mail from my writing friend, Tracy
Holczer. (We met on the Blueboards. We have the
same terrific agent and we started talking over the phone in the beginning of
this year. We talk about writing and we talk about life too. By the way,
Tracy’s debut middle grade book is due out in 2014)</div>
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It was a huge box and I didn't understand it when I first opened it up. The box was filled
with ornaments –some were in gift bags—others were carefully wrapped in tissue
paper. </div>
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This had to be a mistake. In
the rush of those pre-Christmas preparations maybe Tracy had sent me a box that was meant for her tree.
She was probably going crazy looking for it. I was going to send her an email
to let her know.</div>
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Then I saw a note on one of the bags that said “Merry
Christmas Nan”</div>
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And I cried.</div>
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It took a long time for my slow-processing brain to put all
of it together.</div>
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These were ornaments from different people -people I know
from Facebook, people whose books I admire, people I’ve shared my writing angst
and happy moments with, people whose books are on my to-read list. </div>
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There were notes. Each note told a story. Each decoration
did too.</div>
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Some of the ornaments were from their own trees.</div>
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Others were new.</div>
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There were home made ones too, including some snowflakes made out of felt.</div>
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There was even one that was the exact same replica of one that I had lost.</div>
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I spent the day crying.</div>
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Then I pulled myself together and drove to the local CVS and
bought a little tree and some lights. </div>
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When I went back to my house, I played Christmas carols and
sang.</div>
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While I decorated, I marveled at my gift.</div>
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My writer friends turned this difficult time into to the “year of the unforgettable gift”</div>
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I wish I knew a way to say thank you to everyone who participated (I don’t want to list names because I’m worried that I’ll leave out
someone). It has bought me more joy than I can say. </div>
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I have a tree again. </div>
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A tree that is filled with stories.</div>
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And it’s a gift from the best storytellers I know.</div>
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Thank you. </div>
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I wish you all the same type of joy that I found when I
opened up this truly special gift. </div>
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Merry Christmas! </div>
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(More pics below)</div>
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-82739718853004515072012-12-08T14:30:00.004-05:002012-12-08T14:31:58.475-05:00There's an Contest on Goodreads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k6PruWUyR9o/UMOUYUaaKFI/AAAAAAAAAj0/lbhKyflO5ks/s1600/hidingout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k6PruWUyR9o/UMOUYUaaKFI/AAAAAAAAAj0/lbhKyflO5ks/s320/hidingout.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
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There's a contest on Goodreads for the Advanced Readers Copy of Hiding Out at The Pancake Palace!<br />
Click <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/38591-hiding-out-at-the-pancake-palace">here</a> to enter. The contest ends on December 12th.nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-83585282881016722832012-11-20T18:24:00.000-05:002012-11-20T19:08:46.192-05:00After the Storm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“After every storm,
there’s a rainbow.” </i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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I admit it. I was one of those people who totally bought
into quotes like that one. Blame it on the rainbow. When I was in my teens I
almost had a car accident pulling over on a busy street so I could stop and
take a picture of one that was reaching across the highway. And I’ve spent many
an afternoon singing over and over again that song <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Rainbow Connection</i> with Kermit the frog. (well… Kermit sings.
My voice comes out more like a croak – and I can’t believe I’ve admitted this
on my blog). And those books with rainbow-after-storm themes are among my all
time favorites (Isn’t that what middle grade books are all about?) </div>
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But a lot has happened since my last post. I’ve learned all
about the nature of storms – both emotional ones and hurricanes. Within a
48-hour period, there was a death in my family and there was Sandy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where I live on the Jersey shore, Sandy hit
hard. It hit hard on Long Island, where I grew up too. </div>
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So now I know…the storm is only the beginning of the story.
The rainbow would be the end. But there’s a whole lot that happens in the
middle that I had no idea about. And that's the part that seems to go on forever. It’s the middle part that tests you, that
makes you question everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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So far, here’s what I’ve learned about what happens after
the storm: </div>
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There are tears.<br />
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There is destruction.<br />
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There is mud. It is not the gushy soft stuff that you
wiggled your toes in when you were a child or the luxurious goo that spas use.
It is a dirty mud, It is relentless, unforgiving and everywhere.<br />
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There are hugs. Lots of hugs.<br />
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There is awe...At the sheer power of nature...At the finality
of death... Of the surreal quality of it all. </div>
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There are new ways to say hello. Even strangers on line at
the supermarket greet each other with a “how’d you do?” After Sandy, that means
“do you have heat?” “Was your house flooded?” “Are you homeless?”<br />
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There is confusion and frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And resolutions. </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
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There is tedium. The cleaning up part is slow and hard, a
Sisyphean task. Every day people gather up the insides of their houses (the walls,
ruined moldy possessions, refrigerators, appliances etc) and place them in huge
piles near the street. As soon as the piles are taken away, they take another wall down, gather up more moldy possessions and make more piles. Grief has a similar pattern. It nags at you while you drink your coffee, then
goes away, only to come back in flashes and waves.<br />
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There is a yearning for ordinary things now gone: A day my Dad and I spent sailing in the Great South Bay. That
roller coaster in Seaside that I always meant to ride. That beach on Long
Island where I spent my high school summers.</div>
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There is bravery in unexpected places. There is resilience.
And I could write an entire blog post about kindness – simple gestures and huge
acts of generosity from both strangers and friends.</div>
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But even speaking metaphorically, I wouldn’t quite call the
bravery, the resilience or even the kindness a “rainbow”. As for real ones,
I’ve stopped looking up in the sky for them. I am not in the mood. If one did
appear, its carefree lightness would seem trite and not appropriate.</div>
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There is time, though. Time to rebuild, time to gather those
you love and to be thankful that you are together, time to share a meal and to
celebrate thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year, it will be a
different type of holiday- maybe more meaningful than ones in the past.</div>
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Did I mention there is mud?</div>
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<span style="font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">(the
picture is a pre-Sandy rainbow over Barnegat Bay)</span></div>
nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-42581535090388016722012-10-13T11:42:00.000-04:002012-10-13T11:42:15.597-04:00Geeks, Girls and Secret Indentities...and Mike Jung<br />
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When my debut middle grade novel turned one year old, I held a <a href="http://nanmarino.blogspot.com/2010/05/neil-armstrong-is-my-unclebirthday-bash.html">blog contest</a>. Because the main character likes to howl at the moon, I asked everyone entering to do the same thing. Many people entered, there was lots of playful banter in the comments and it was great to see such a nice response.<br />
But one person went above and beyond. Risking life and limb, he stood in the middle of a city park at 2am and videoblogged himself howling at the moon. <a href="http://captainstupendous.wordpress.com/2010/05/28/the-full-moon-or-geez-i-hope-that-guy-over-there-doesnt-mug-me/">Here's the video</a>.<a href="http://captainstupendous.wordpress.com/2010/05/28/the-full-moon-or-geez-i-hope-that-guy-over-there-doesnt-mug-me/"> </a></div>
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Anyone who is part of the kidlit blogosphere, Twittersphere, Facebooksphere (I'm making up words here) will recognize the man in the park as the multi-talented Mike Jung.</div>
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I wish I could explain what it felt like to watch someone you've never met (in person) give up precious hours of sleep to howl at the moon (at 2am!) because the main character in your first book did.<br />
I vowed then and there that when Mike's first book came out, I would do something really special...something...well...stupendous.<br />
So now is the time for me to make good on my promise. </div>
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This month we get to celebrate the launch of Mike's debut middle grade novel</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b>Geeks Girls and Secret Indentities </b></span></span></div>
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But how can I top the antics of Mike Jung? Not only is he a writer and an all-around good guy, he also sings, <a href="http://captainstupendous.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/i-survived-the-launch-party-hooray/">plays a mean ukulele,</a> and writes his own songs. I think he draws too. <br />
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Besides, I am <i>extremely</i> camera shy.</div>
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And so I turned to the most valuable member of my marketing team</div>
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my dog, Chi.<br />
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In this next video, Chi the marketing maven, gets a little more comfortable with her new cape.<br />
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Finally, Chi shows her superhero prowess by racing down the street in a full gallop but when it comes to the money shot, she fails to get the job done.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We are storming the streets of New Jersey to get the word out about your new book, Mike<span style="color: #741b47;">!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Congratulations! </span></span></div>
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<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-47741336246247432172012-09-30T13:06:00.000-04:002012-09-30T13:06:26.719-04:00And the winner is...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Thanks so much for entering the contest and telling me your favorite moon songs.<br />
Here's how I chose the winner....<br />
I printed out the names of all the entries on equal-sized pieces of paper. I lined up all the papers on the floor in the living room, and then I let my dog, Chi, come into the room. Chi loves to chew paper. Bookmarks. Important documents. Twenty dollar bills. She loves them all. (That's what I get for letting her rip up all those rejection letters.) Chi sniffed a bunch but the first name that she put in her mouth was the winner. And the name that Chi chose was....<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>PETE</b></span><br />
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Congratulations, Pete! <br />
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If you email me your address, I will send you the book.<br />
By the way, Hiding Out At The Pancake Palace is coming out in April, which means I'll be having more contests as the time gets closer.<br />
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And please don't forget to celebrate Banned Book Week by reading your favorite banned book!<br />
<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-71655587778955736412012-09-18T11:13:00.000-04:002012-09-18T11:13:29.135-04:00Neil Armstrong is My Uncle Paperback Book Giveaway Contest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To celebrate the paperback release of Neil Armstrong is My Uncle today, I'm having a contest to give away a signed copy. To enter, all you have to do is leave a comment below telling me the title of your favorite "moon" song (the word "moon" should be in the title of the song).<br />
My favorite moon song is Moon River. It makes me think of Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" but even before I saw that movie, I fell in love with those Johnny Mercer lyrics . .They had me at "huckleberry friend". <br />
The winner will be randomly selected sometime at the end of next week.nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-6161546630590002332012-09-03T10:08:00.000-04:002012-09-04T13:06:59.110-04:00Spaces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Reading books that your older brother and sister leave strewn around the house is the inalienable right of any younger sibling. On a summer day when I was in my teens and I found this book of poetry sitting on the wobbly hall bookshelf, I didn't think twice. I remember leaning up against the wall and flipping through the pages. When I got to page 96, I stopped.<br />
In the top left hand corner were the words:<br />
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<b>WE WERE ON THE TERRACE</b></div>
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<b>DRINKING GIN AND TONICS</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47;">when the squall hit.</span></b><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">There was nothing more. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">The rest of the page was white space. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">I looked at the cover and for the first time noticed the author's name. I wondered who John Ashbery was and how he got to write a book where thirteen words were called a poem. </span>This wasn't poetry. It was nothing like what I'd studied in school. Where was the rhyme? The meter? The rest of the words? Clearly this guy pulled one over on a bunch of people<br />
I read the poem again and again. Then I closed my eyes.<br />
Soon I began to imagine myself, a little older, sitting on that terrace surrounded by fabulously witty people, all of them with drinks in their hands. I could smell the sharp scent of gin and the heaviness of chlorine from
the nearby pool. Floating toys drift on the water. <br />
There's a sound of ice clinking on glasses.<br />
And laughter.<br />
The storm moves in fast. Rain comes in from all sides.<br />
My fabulously witty friends scatter.<br />
Someone grabs the drinks,<br />
another reaches for the tray of limes<br />
and a third brave soul runs to get the towels hanging over a fence.<br />
We head into the house but the mood is different. Not as carefree.<br />
Everyone is wet.<br />
Uncomfortable.<br />
The drinks don't clink.<br />
The chlorine smell is replaced by stuffy inside air.<br />
We watch through the windows. The floating toys are still out there banging up against the sides of the pool. There is a conversation about who should go back out into the rain to get them. <br />
Soon the people with drinks have personalities and problems. An entire story comes to light.<br />
When I finally opened my eyes, I'd decided that maybe John Ashbery knew what he was doing after all. It wasn't only about the words. It was about the spaces between them. The spaces between those thirteen words were filled with images. <br />
All that happened a long time ago. In the years that followed I'd lost track of the book. I'd assumed it was reclaimed by an older sibling. This summer, when I was cleaning out my parents' house, I found it again. For many reasons, emptying out your childhood home is an arduous task. Despite my mother's pleading, I didn't want any of the china or the crystal bowls or the fancy tea sets, but when I saw the book in my brother's old bedroom, I grabbed it. <br />
It's sitting on my desk now and every so often, I turn to page 96. There's something magical about those thirteen words. They can scrape away the decades and make me feel seventeen again. I remember everything: That summer day. That hallway bookshelf. The feeling of confusion. That moment of understanding. It all feels so close.<br />
When I read that poem for the first time, I learned something important about the spaces between words.<br />
But this summer it taught me a different lesson<br />
about the spaces between years.nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-73928941080094868562012-08-27T14:43:00.000-04:002012-08-27T18:45:17.114-04:00Neil Armstrong<br />
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When my book first came out, I was lucky enough to <a href="http://nanmarino.blogspot.com/2009/08/neil-armstrong-is-his-uncle-really.html">chat (through email) with the real nephew of Neil Armstrong</a>. <a href="http://nanmarino.blogspot.com/2009/08/neil-armstrong-is-his-uncle-really.html">He told a story </a>about his uncle helping a woman whose car broke down in a store parking lot in Wisconsin. At some point, the woman noticed that the man underneath the hood of her car looked familiar. When she mentioned to him that he resembled Neil Armstrong, he quipped, "Yeah. I get that a lot".<br />
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I suspect that the woman went home, put her food in the frig, and over dinner told her family about the nice man who helped her in the parking lot. She might have even mentioned that he looked like the first man to walk on the moon.<br />
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Neil Armstrong called himself a "nerdy engineer". He probably hated being called a "hero" and reminded people that thousands of people worked to make that great moment happen. But on July 20, 1969, it was Neil Armstrong who took the controls of the lunar lander, known as the Eagle. When it became apparent that the automatic pilot was going to set the Eagle down in an area filled with giant boulders and craters, Neil Armstrong flew it manually. With only a minute of fuel left, he searched for a safe place to land. Back on earth in Mission Control the atmosphere was so tense that famed Flight Director Gene Kranz told the Flight Communicator Charlie Duke "You’d better remind them there ain’t no damn gas stations on the moon." Even with all those years of planning and all that hard work from thousands of people in private companies and government agencies, there nothing Mission Control could do. It was all in the hands of one man.<br />
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Along with the rest of the world, Mission Control waited.<br />
With only twenty seconds of fuel left, the lunar lander touched down. Neil Armstrong calmly announced "the Eagle has landed."<br />
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The world cheered. <br />
A few hours later, that "nerdy engineer" took that first historic step.<br />
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Here's part of the statement from Neil Armstrong's family: <br />
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"...While we mourn the loss of a very good man, we also celebrate his
remarkable life and hope that it serves as an example to young people
around the world to work hard to make their dreams come true, to be
willing to explore and push the limits, and to selflessly serve a cause
greater than themselves. <br />
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For those who may ask what they can
do to honor Neil, we have a simple request. Honor his example of
service, accomplishment and modesty, and the next time you walk outside
on a clear night and see the moon smiling down at you, think of Neil
Armstrong and give him a wink.”nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-1765478778272659422012-08-21T10:49:00.000-04:002012-08-21T10:56:41.300-04:00In this post, I ask debut author Nikki Loftin sinisterly hard questions<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I<span style="color: blue;">n her debut middle grade book </span><b style="color: blue;">The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid
Academy</b><span style="color: blue;"> Nikki Lofin has managed to combine all of my favorite things: candy,
some dark humor, a great story, lovely writing, a school with a rock climbing
wall and did I mention candy?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Here’s the publisher’s blurb:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Lorelei is bowled
over by Splendid Academy--Principal Trapp encourages the students to run in the
hallways, the classrooms are stocked with candy dishes, and the cafeteria
serves lavish meals featuring all Lorelei's favorite foods. But the more time
she spends at school, the more suspicious she becomes. Why are her classmates
growing so chubby? And why do the teachers seem so sinister? <br />
It's up to Lorelei and her new friend Andrew to figure out what secret this
supposedly splendid school is hiding. What they discover chills their
bones--and might even pick them clean! </span>
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Mix one part magic, one part mystery, and just a dash of Grimm, and you've got
the recipe for a cozy-creepy read that kids will gobble up like candy. </span>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Nikki’s book has been called a “mesmerizing read” and an
“irresistible contemporary fairy tale.” Sure, it’s been likened to Grimm, and
I’ve even heard some comparisons to the great Roald Dahl but this story is pure
Nikki. Smart. Witty. And fun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">On her launch day, Nikki is here at Ramble Street so I got
to ask her a few questions about her writing process. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Welcome Nikki. Let the questions begin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So how'd you find
your way into Middle Grade books? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I took a left at Self-Help and wandered through Romance?
Okay, kidding. Although not about the romance part! A few years back, I
realized that I’d been deferring my dream of Being a Writer until suddenly,
there I was, gray hair and all, with the same unfulfilled dream I’d had when I
was young and perky. So I started writing… a romance. A very bad paranormal
romance in which the characters were never quite able to, um, take that final
step (if you know what I mean) because I couldn’t write that squicky sex stuff!
Once I put all 60,000 words of that aside, I found the plots pouring into my
head were all middle grade – the kinds of stories I made up for my kids at
night. The kinds of stories I’d devoured as a kid. And so far, the middle grade
trend has continued! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks goodness. I wasn’t sure I could write one more
heaving bosom or chiseled chest if my life depended on it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, I’m glad you left Romance. Let’s
talk about writing. What's your favorite part of the process? You plot, right? I
don't. My outline is generally my first draft (which is extremely
time-consuming). Do you have any suggestions to help us non-plotters? How do
you approach plotting? Do you know the ending of the story right away? Do you
start with a what-if scenario? A theme?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Oh, pantsers. We all think the rest of the world plots,
don’t we? It’s our deepest insecurity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">No, Nan, I don’t plot, not if I can help it. Plotting is for
old fogies, soulless robotic word count monkeys who shun the Muse, etc. (Just
kidding! Some of my very best friends are word count monkeys. They can’t help
it that they have no souls.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I love that feeling of a new story, unfolding like a mystery
as I work. I usually start with a what if scenario, and build it mentally until
the first lines start to come. Then I race to the keyboard! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, I don’t wing it entirely – about 10,000 words
into a new novel, I’ll sort of chart out what I think will happen, just to make
sure I have enough story there to keep it going for an entire book! But I make
sure I don’t plot out what the ending will be, as I firmly believe that if I
already know that, then: a. the writing won’t be any fun, and b. the story will
be predictable and boring. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My best advice would be to read the screenwriting book SAVE
THE CAT by Blake Snyder, and adapt it to work for your novel. It’s been
transformative for many writers lost in their plotlines…including me! As long
as I use any structure loosely, I’m good. Gotta leave room for the magic to
happen, right? :)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Wait. You don’t plot either? I’ve read your book and a few
pages of a first draft of another story you wrote. I was sure you plotted. Are
we non-plotters insecure? My stories start with “what if” scenarios and, like
you, I wander through my first drafts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Okay, next question: I'm sure you've had many wonderful things happen since
you've gotten "the call". Holding your first book in your hand is a
dream come true. But I found that lots of unexpected wonderful things happen
along the way too. What has your experience been?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Oh my gosh. I think the Big Day that’s coming next weekend –
my book launch party at the local indie, Bookpeople, in Austin -- may be the
cherry on top of this whole three years of work. I mean, it’s not every day
your Life’s Dream comes true, right? And so my family and friends are all
coming – some of them flying into the state just for the occasion. It’s
humbling and joyful and terrifying… like a wedding and a debutante ball and an
inauguration all mixed together. And the friends who can’t be there are
celebrating with me like you are, on blogs and Twitter and Facebook! Sharing my
joy with all my favorite people? So much to be happy about. (And on a related
note, so many cupcakes to bake! Must get started on that…)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Nikki, I’m jumping up and down for you. Having that dream
come true is amazing. There are so many great parts, like getting "the call" and working with an editor (which is my favorite part of the process). And speaking of editors, have you noticed that there are tons of writing books on how to get your first
book published and just as many about how to market your first book. But when
it comes to books about writing, there seems to be a big black hole when it
comes to talking about the editorial process. What was that part like?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Strangely smooth! (For the first book, anyway. And I’d love
to talk about the subsequent books, but I’m going to need more time to recover.
As in, a few years. Someday, they tell me, that second book pain will all be
valuable to me. Anyway…) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">For some reason, my editor liked my first book pretty much
in the form I turned it in, which was a great blessing, as I hate revising like
unmedicated dental surgery. The most annoying thing was trying to find better
names for the book and my main characters. But I thought all of her revision
suggestions made perfect sense, and I was happy to tweak away! Also, I’m a
fairly “clean” writer, so there wasn’t a hugely humiliating copyedit phase. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, I’m going to plead the fifth on this question if
you ever ask about Book #2. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I don’t think anyone has the same experience twice, so maybe
that’s why there’s no book about the editorial process! Or maybe they’re all
keeping secrets from us…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I do like the idea that someone is keeping secrets, but I
think you’re right about the differences in the editorial process. I've gone
through the process twice, and it does seem like each book goes its own way. So
are you done with book two? I’ve heard that one is the hardest. As far as writing goes, I’m the opposite. Revision is my favorite thing. That first draft.
That blank computer screen. That’s the scary
part for me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">O</span><span style="font-size: small;">ne last question from the candy addict in New Jersey.
What’s your favorite candy? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I think my most addictive candy would be peanut M&Ms.
But my favorite is Dark Chocolate with Orange Lindt bars. Mmmmm. I ate SO MANY
of these in the past year. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My current favorite candies are those peppermint patties. I promise to eat a bunch of them
today in honor of your book launch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks for stopping by, Nikki. Enjoy your day! Hope you'll come back to Ramble Street soon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-59038805238049790822012-06-10T13:12:00.001-04:002012-06-10T13:41:27.968-04:00So how's your writing going?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNK6pjHsIeo/T9SloGf2HTI/AAAAAAAAAe8/J6YCPBUsndc/s1600/chiuncropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UNK6pjHsIeo/T9SloGf2HTI/AAAAAAAAAe8/J6YCPBUsndc/s320/chiuncropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never ask. And never make eye contact.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's a question writers get asked all the time. It's kind of like the "how are you?" of the writing world.<br />
My problem is when my friends ask, I answer.<br />
It doesn't matter if I'm deep into a novel or if I have a few wisps of an idea, I like to talk. I tell them about the funny quirks of some minor character or ramble on about a major discovery I've made about the protagonist. I wonder out loud about what my main character <i>really</i> wants and I try to figure out if I'm taking them down the right path.<br />
But not everyone wants the gritty details.<br />
Even with family members and great friends, there are times when they've heard enough. And as difficult as this concept is for me, it seems that they occasionally like to talk about other things.<br />
No matter how casually they say it, if they ask about my story, I will tell them.<br />
Not too long ago at the day job I met an unsuspecting coworker at the copy machine. When she said, "hey, how's the writing going?" it was meant as a polite greeting. And I knew it too. But that didn't stop me. While the photocopy machine chugged along, I shared with her tons of fascinating fun facts that I had learned about the place where my characters lived.<br />
At first, she was polite and nodded. Then after a while, she stared at the copy machine like she was begging it to print faster. Unfortunately for her, it was a huge print job, a slow machine, and I had tons more things to tell her. Even when she shifted back and forth, giving wistful glances at the automatic sprinkler system, I rambled on and on and on. <br />
There are writers who keep their thoughts to themselves. They let their ideas perk and simmer. They write
it all down (which really <i>is</i> the point of the whole thing). And when they're ready, they share.<br />
They are wise
writers.<br />
I am not wise.<br />
When I'm working on a story, I feel like I'm discovering a whole new world, meeting new people, and encountering new experiences. I want to introduce all the people I care about in my real life to the people I care about in my imaginary one.<br />
Sometimes, when no one is around, I'll even talk to the dog. And sometimes she gives me a please-can-we-talk-about-something-else glance too.nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-61126602652900688322012-05-26T08:28:00.000-04:002012-05-27T07:14:21.944-04:00When Your Work-In-Progress Stops Talking<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZmA0LrlW9Y/T79vAyuf3PI/AAAAAAAAAew/S-kMtOjlmag/s1600/livingroom2+096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZmA0LrlW9Y/T79vAyuf3PI/AAAAAAAAAew/S-kMtOjlmag/s320/livingroom2+096.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you don't see eye to eye</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'm having problems with my work-in-progress. We've stopped talking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But before I tell you about all the bad things in the relationship, let me tell you about the beginning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Back then, everything was good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We met in the most unexpected way. I was driving home from a weekend visit with my Mom and Dad when I hit traffic. Lots of traffic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There I was, sitting in the car, not moving at all, somewhere around exit 105 on the Garden State Parkway, when "blammo!" I heard a voice. I heard a first sentence. I saw a character. She told me her name. There was another character. He told me his. And a place! They showed me where they lived. It was somewhere I'd never been. Then more people came into the story. They talked and talked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Fortunately traffic was horrendous. The normal three hour drive took over eight hours so we had lots of time to get to know each other. By the time I got home, I was breathless. After saying a quick hello to my husband and the dog, I raced the to computer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Over the next few weeks, it was magic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My w.i.p. told me secrets. There were some turns and twists. There was an ending. It was exactly the type of ending that this story should have. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A few days ago, I went to my computer expecting words to flow, but instead of talking, there was silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Not a peep. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">At first I thought it was a blip. I was patient. But the next day, it happened again. And then again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"What did I do?" I asked. "Did I take you in the wrong direction? Do you want to go someplace else?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But there is no answer. I've tried nice music (We're working on a play list). And chocolate (many many kinds of chocolate). I've talked very sweetly to all the characters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">No matter what I do, I get nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Our time together is stressful. The joy is gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another story whispers. It's just a chapter. But it wants me to write it. I feel like I'm cheating. Yet how long do you stay with your uncommunicative w.i.p.? How do you know when it's time to give up?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For me it comes down to belief. I still have faith in this story. And I think there's something there that wants to be told. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now if only I can convince those characters . . .</span>nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-27381356000069034232012-05-16T21:25:00.000-04:002012-05-16T21:25:01.107-04:00Shhh. Here's the Secret About Why I Haven't Blogged<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--T2Q-jXdS5A/T7QmOJum68I/AAAAAAAAAek/PO375h3IWfk/s1600/pancakepalace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--T2Q-jXdS5A/T7QmOJum68I/AAAAAAAAAek/PO375h3IWfk/s320/pancakepalace.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I haven't blogged in a long long time. I've been busy writing. Here's the cover for my next book. The amazing art was done by John Hendrix. I truly love this cover. That's the Jersey Devil on the sign up there pouring pancake syrup. Check out all those lovely details. <br />
<br />
If you look, you'll see that the boy in the cover is holding a microphone. He's a famous musical prodigy, who froze on stage during a televised talent contest and he's hiding out from the paparazzi in the Pinelands of New Jersey. But it's a small town. And so it's very possible that people will find out.<br />
<br />
So here's my question: <br />
If you knew that a famous superstar entertainer was hiding out in your town, would you tell?<br />
Would you whisper it to your best friend?<br />
Shout it out to the cool kids?<br />
Tell your boyfriend?<br />
Your teacher?<br />
Your sister?<br />
Your neighbor? <br />
Or would you help the famous boy hide out?<br />
<br />
<br />
Statistically, most people would tell someone. While I was writing, I did some research on secrets and here's what I learned. Most of us are not good are keeping them.<br />
One study reported that its participants kept a secret for an average of 72 hours before they spilled the beans. That's a mere three days. Heck, I can keep a chocolate bar for longer than that.<br />
Another study found that having a secret takes a toll on us physically. Researchers divided the participants into two groups. They asked the first group to recall a big secret. Then they pointed the participants to a hill and asked them how steep they thought it was. They did the same thing to the next group, except they asked that group to remember a smaller secret. The group with the big secrets had big problems. They thought the hill was steeper and harder to climb. That same group also had a harder time judging distance. The researchers concluded that the group with the big secrets were "physically encumbered." <br />
It seems that old adage about feeling burdened with a secret is true.<br />
<br />
<br />
By the way, thanks to my writing buddy C Lee McKenzie and her <a href="http://writegame.blogspot.com/2012/05/random-acts-of-kindness-blitz.html#comment-form">RAOK blitz</a> for getting me back into blogging. Sometimes you need a push from your friends. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3233403736343236952.post-52134128681390680762011-10-15T14:04:00.005-04:002011-11-03T07:07:36.589-04:00If you lose your way...<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M5zIStkWkUY/TpnF5SPHMDI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/SEgoJX8HMvY/s1600/quiteplace+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M5zIStkWkUY/TpnF5SPHMDI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/SEgoJX8HMvY/s320/quiteplace+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Eyet0juKp6k/TpnD8pqBxyI/AAAAAAAAAeI/04soT9uMHjM/s1600/longwayhome+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I got my notes from my editor regarding my next book, Piney Moon. They were sent by email and were written on MS Word, but they might as well been written with one of those bright, glowy pens. They were filled with great comments and good, hard questions. As a writer, it's the kind of stuff that lights you up, points you in the right direction and makes you want to dive back into your own story. Before her notes, I was worried about this one. I felt like I was losing my way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last night, when my niece Andrea called to fill me in about her wedding plans, I ended up telling her about my editor's notes and about my losing-my-way fears. She reminded me about one of our "special days". When she was growing up, that's what we called the days we spent together. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When she was 10 and I was in my early twenties, we decided to take a drive from her house in central Jersey to Seaside Heights (aka the Jersey Shore). We were so busy talking and singing and laughing that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I'm not from New Jersey and they were country roads -- and there were no street signs. Of course, we got lost. Since it was before the days of smart phones and Google maps and GPS systems, we had to stop and ask directions many times</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> The directions weren't always easy to follow. "Make a left at the yellow pick-up truck", said one gas station attendant, "but make sure it's the one that's parked underneath the crooked tree..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I nodded, pretending I understood. Soon I noticed that the gas station attendant wasn't even looking at me. I turned around and saw Andrea holding a purple sparkle pen, writing everything he said in her Hello Kitty notepad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thanks to the 10-year old, we found our way to Seaside. It was an afternoon in early spring. The Snookiless boardwalk was crowded just enough to make you think you were someplace special. At the first arcade game, we won a giant basket filled with toys and candy. We moved onto a different game and won again. This time, it was a huge stuffed animal. Our wining streak lasted. Stuffed animals, gift baskets, toys-- that day, we won it all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On the way back to the car, we stopped at a palm reader (I'm a sucker for psychics). Honestly, I don't remember anything she said to me, but when it was Andrea's turn, I held my breath. Not that I necessarily believe in the veracity of boardwalk palm readers, but still, Andrea was just a kid. What if she was a scam artist? What if she said something bad? This could get uncomfortable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As soon as she told Andrea that she'd someday have a great job and an excellent education, I exhaled. Then she stared at my niece's palm and made that 'tsk tsk' sound. "Finding your true love will take a long time," she sighed. "Many many blind dates."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Years later, Andrea and I still marvel at our luck at the boardwalk games, and we've laughed at the "many many blind dates" comment over and over again throughout Andrea's dating years.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There probably should be some tie in here between losing your way in writing and losing your way on the road, and I wish I could say something clever about being fearless in both circumstances. But since both of them still make me nervous, I'm not sure I can draw that conclusion. However, if you do manage to get lost in either writing or driving, I have one piece of advice: Travel with someone who knows enough to bring a sparkle pen. </span>nanmarinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00774886321171665796noreply@blogger.com7