My husband found this for me today.
It's the rough draft of a Mother's Day poem written by my son, Joey, when he'd just turned 11.
I will leave the punctuation, spelling and capitalization as in its charming original.
--------------
marvolous is she
M - mom qualities that she has a lot of
O - other stuff she's good at
^ outstanding mom that she is
T - taught me how to live
teacher of me
H - ha ha is her laugh
happiness she brings to me
E - ever forgiving, she is
eternally grateful am I
R - Ruth is her name
reluctant she is not

M - moron, she is not
mother of my lifetime
O - ouchies she makes better
our love will never end
M - merturnity clothes she wears
my great mother she is

I love you

--------------Joe is a songwriter today.
I bet he's writing songs and sweet poems for his wife, now.

We don't know, sometimes, the seeds we sow, in the daily work we take on.
We can't tell if they're pretty weeds or heirloom roses until time has passed.

Sometimes our good ideas take root and blossom into beauty that changes others at the same time it helps us.
Sometimes our ideas are seeds that fall on rocky ground -- they can't take root without help from others.

Books are like that.
They spring from a germ of an idea, but they need nourishment to grow into a full book.
So many hands take part in bringing up a book, and it's not just the obvious, the author, the long-suffering partner/spouse of the author, the critique group, the editor, agent, designers, copy editors, publicist, salespeople, librarians, teachers, booksellers, various specialists, the reviewers, the discerning readers...

Books need communities in order to grow.

Authors need friends, connections with humanity that sprout ideas and inklings and what-if's.
Writing can be a lonesome career, but no writer writes alone.

I'll use the feminine for this, because my editor is a woman. But please substitute if yours is a guy. I know some great guy editors.

How do you know if your editor is fabulous? Answer these questions.

1. Is she supportive when things aren't going well?
My editor has always been unfailingly patient during my rough times. I have a big family; I have a lot of rough times (deaths, illnesses, weddings, angst).
She's also patient during my rough writing, first drafts, awkward prose and obvious mistakes.

2. Are her edits heavy handed? Or does she leave room for your own voice in your own writing?
When my first book copies arrived, back in 2007, I was astounded to see how many of the copy-edits that I had suggested were ultimately adopted. My editor acted surprised at my surprise; "of course we'd try to accommodate every request; you're the author!" whereas I'd been led to believe, by other writers, that your vision for your book is abandoned once you sign with a publisher.
I'm learning from her editing -- it's making me a better writer (thank goodness).

3. Does she respond to your emails? And is she warm in her notes to you?
My editor doesn't always write back as fast as I'd like her to. She's the publisher, besides being an editor. She works with very famous authors. I can't fault her for not coddling me and my author angst 24/7 (author angst is legendary; my insecurities are legion).
But she does always sign her notes affectionately and she does always respond quickly on important matters. I feel if we weren't working together, she'd be a fascinating friend who I'd love to get to know better.

4. Does she edit other work besides yours? Are those books critically acclaimed?
Every publisher has a different sort of feel. And not all books are good for all people. The list at one house might not appeal to a particular reader, even if the books are critically acclaimed and the reader is brilliant. We all have different tastes -- and thank goodness for that, because as an artist I can't imagine anything more drab than a world where everyone agreed on everything all the time.
I am not the biggest fan of each of my publisher's books, but I'm a big fan of a lot of them. Ellie McDoodle is not the top book in the catalog (though I hope it gets near). Like not wanting to own the best house on the block, I don't think I want to create the best books in my publisher's catalog; I want something to aspire to, a reason to always try to do better.
My publisher puts out enough great works every season that I am proud to be part of their list.

5. Do you get paid on time? Royalty statements arrive unprompted?
I don't know. My agent takes care of this. I do know there have been a couple times when we asked my editor to intercede and she did. My family hit tough times last month, and my editor helped me get paid faster than normal. It was a kindness, something I will never forget.

6. Does she buy every book you write?
Mine doesn't -- and if she did she probably would not be a good editor. Ha!
I've pitched a couple books that were stinkers (you know, in a meeting when I should have bitten my tongue instead). My agent has pitched a few that I still believe in, that my edi

As Ellie McDoodle gets better known, I see little Ellie-isms pop up in new places.

Friends tell me of Ellie spotting, finding my books in bookstores, art museums, nature centers and Michigan highway Welcome Centers.
Some kids use Ellie-isms in their everyday language. I've heard "Cheezers!" exclaimed at events. And a dear friend's artist son once told her he was having "an Ellie McDoodle moment."
Kids tell me about their families, using characters as shorthand: "My brother is just like Ben-Ben" or "He's like Er-ick, when Ellie draws him like a monster."
I find it funny, flattering, and sweet.

Likewise, this video.
I didn't make it; it's a fan-fiction video.
Some enterprising kids came up with a script and shot a little movie for a contest on KidsTube.com.
I don't know if they won, but I'm honored by the name of their main character.
---------

I see the date's been set for the Skaaldic Society of Lansing's A Rally of Writers:
April 10, 2010.
This is a day-long writer conference held at the beautiful and spacious Lansing Community College West Campus.

Yesterday I dismantled my makeshift desk next to the Christmas tree in the living room: I'm done with the art for the third Ellie McDoodle book. Well, mostly done; there'll be a few revisions/requests.

For a month I've had a mini-studio set up in the middle of the family action, because while writing is more of a solitary venture, art requires the energy of people around me. Plus I need short, intermittent bursts of breaks from it to keep it fresh, whereas with writing, breaks can sound the death knell of creativity.

Upon my mother in law's death a couple weeks ago we inherited, among other treasures, two tv tables. I've wanted a pair of tv tables for a long time (I knew they'd be perfect for temporary desks), and these came at a useful time.
Before them, I stacked things on an ottoman; not very stable, no leg room.

So this was my portable art studio:
- one tv table with my editor's handwritten notes on the penciled art pages, plus a Mason jar of water and a bag (pink wintergreen lozenges) or roll (Mentos) of mints, plus an assortment of bad carbs and good raw veggies.
- second tv table with my lightbox balanced on top. On that, graph paper, pencil, two pens, razor blade for mistakes, and the penciled rough to be inked.
The light box isn't the nice one I used in college or at my job at MSU. It's an 18" x 24" cardboard strawberry box from a supermarket with a hinged plexiglass lid which is still encased in the blue plastic I bought it in years ago. The blue cuts the light and reduces glare. Better would be a portable box with frosted glass. Someday...
Inside the box is a portable flourescent light fixture with an on/off switch.
- round plant table with a box of files on it: About 2,000 papers which include drafts 1, 2, and 3 of this book, both writing and art, editor comments, a thin sheath of loose paper for inking (too thick a packet is discouraging), a couple encouraging notes from my agent and editor, and a folder of "Must adds". I hope I remembered to add all the musts. . .

Every day at about 1pm I set up my workspace next to the Christmas tree, across from the tv, turned on the tv and all the lights in the living room and plugged in the tree lights and the light box.
I settled in for about 15 hours of work, taking only very short breaks, working until 4 - 6am, quitting when hallucinations started. I'd watch whatever not-too-mindless thing was on tv (on our new Christmas present, DirectTV): Dog Whisperer, Mythbusters, anything on Science, Nat. Geo. or Discovery Channel, sometimes a movie (my favorite was The Miracle of Morgan's Creek, about a lady carrying sextuplets; wartime America's response to the Dionne quints in 1944). I learned about survival techniques used in disasters (have confidence, take immediate action, believe your time is limited, practice evacuation routes in advance), how to make a car skip across a pond like a stone (redistribute the weight, pump up the acceleration to 100 mpg), what's the dirtiest thing in your house (kitchen sponge), secrets of Pompeii (I don't know why, but this story has gripped me since I was a small child), and I scrawled down the websites and prices of at least a dozen infomercial products that looked like a good deal to

One of the best things about being an author is knowing other authors.

My 12 yr old, Emily, just finished Sarah Miller's brilliant MISS SPITFIRE: REACHING HELEN KELLER Atheneum Books, 2007, about which Richard Peck says, "Miss Spitfire is high drama about how language unlocks the world." I adore Sarah and I love her book and I love her brain.
When Emily announced she'd found the book on my shelf, started reading, and just finished it, I was excited to hear what she thought of it.
The Helen Keller story has always fascinated me, but I may have been over-zealous in introducing Em to it. She's watched The Miracle Worker (w/various casts) several times and wasn't as obsessed with it as I am. I, uh, kind of forced her to watch.
So I didn't shove Sarah's book at her and encourage her to read it. She found it when the time was right for her, in between readings of the Lightning Thief, Sisters Grimm and Twilight series. I'm so glad she did.
There's not much more satisfying for me as a parent than seeing my kid discover something great on her own. When Emily entered my studio and started talking, I listened. Then I started taking notes, typing what she was saying. With her permission I mailed her stream-of-consciousness review to Sarah, who responded with a lovely note and an offer to mail a signed bookplate.
So I am happy.
My kid is thrilled.
Which makes me even happier.

I'm an author. At four family events in the last week, kids who are Ellie McDoodle fans who happen to also be my relatives engaged me in discussions about Ellie.
Now, I'm accustomed to meeting with kids at schools, libraries, bookstores, chatting about my books, asking what they liked or didn't like, and I'm always happy to discuss future plots or give a sneak peek at the work-in-progress.
But I'm not used to talking with fans at family events. It's a little weird to talk about work with kids anyway; they were never interested in the logos or brochures I used to design.
It's good, though. I love connecting with all readers.

My status is up a little higher than it used to be, due to my books.

But it really shoots up if I have a special connection to a relative's new favorite author.
At Christmas I learned my niece Alex likes Gail Carson Levine's books. I met Gail! I sketched her in NYC. I told Alex that Gail is a lovely person and is petite, like Alex's mom. Bing! My status bumped up.
When I handed my nephews Chris Barton's THE DAY-GLO BROTHERS with a flourescent bookplate and told them I know the author, and he's really cool, my status went up a couple points. Bing! Bing!
When I handed my oldest daughter Liz Scanlon's ALL THE WORLD (illustrated by the fabulous Marla Frazee, who I got to help shadow at an SCBWI conference), she read it to her baby and she was very touched by the message of the book. When I told her I know Liz -- and also Marla! -- and I saw the book before it was published, and it's going to be a Cheerios book and probably also a Caldecott contender, my Mom status bumped up a few more notches. Bing! Bing! Bing!
My niece is a fan of Libba Bray. I don't know Libba, but I did meet her husband (and he likes Ellie McDoodle, and he's a friend of my agent's)... Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing!
My grandson loves THE POUT-POUT FISH, by Deb

Wishing you a great holiday:
This is my sketch on Christmas morning for the back of our card.We're off to a party at my cousin's. Then a party tomorrow at my sister-in-law's. Then a party the next day at my brother's. Then I think we're celebrating Thanksgiving at my house on Wednesday (because we never celebrated it with our little family -- too busy running to all the relatives' houses). In between all that, I have book deadlines. I should bring the work to the parties. Hmm...

Happy New Year!

I was going to do a card to hand out at the funeral, with Mom Barshaw's picture on it. Then I decided not to. Then one of my nephews asked if I would, so that night I drove 90 miles home, set pencil to paper not knowing what would come out of it, and drew.
Then I slept fitfully and got up for the long drive back to Detroit for the funeral early in the morning.
It was almost magic, how the image came out of the pencil without much anguish, in the middle of the night. This doesn't happen often; generally funeral cards are a difficult labor of love. Maybe I'm getting better at this.
Here's my mother in law:

As it was coming out of my pencil, I first noticed the eye on the left looks just like some of her daughter's eyes. This astounded me.
And there's my husband's chin, and another daughter's eyebrows.

It always surprises me when I see someone I know in my drawings.

It's also odd to meet someone on the street who looks like one of my recent drawings. I want to rush up to them and shake their hand and ask a lot of personal questions because I feel like I know them well.

Taking these cards to the funeral, I felt self-conscious and awkward, as usual. I always worry that the rest of the family will hate the art, or that they'll think I'm uppity for printing copies, or greedy for getting self-promotion during a sad time. In this case I didn't hear any bad comments, but the funeral director put the cards in a place where I doubt many noticed them. Someone took home a stack of these. Maybe they'll go in thank-you notes. Maybe they'll be lost to the ages. It doesn't really matter; I did my part, giving what I could give. I drew Mom. The original sketch will go to the nephew who asked me to draw.

And I'm back to working on my book.

My editor has gone home for the holidays. They're closed all next week. They wanted the final art done before Christmas; earlier this morning I was thinking, if I can manage 30 drawings a day plus revising text, I can still get it out by Christmas. Thinking in the wee hours of the morning, it wasn't quite a dream. More like a nightmare.