Thanksgiving break is over, and I'm back teaching, the intense home stretch of the semester with just two weeks of classes left (and with so many of those papers left to grade, all the ones I didn't get done last week), and then on to the stress of finals.
So it is time for me to resume my practice of scheduling five episodes of happiness for myself every day. I plan them out as I walk to get the Skip to work in the morning. I always insist on having five - not four, not six. I love lists that are in multiples of five!
Here is my list for today:
1) The walk to the Skip itself - the bus stops every few blocks, so I try to leave myself enough time in the morning to walk for a mile or so before I hop onboard, paying attention to the crisp, clear beauty of the morning.
2) A cup of tea when I get to my office - actually, I forgot to do this one! Oops! But after I type this blog entry I will go fix myself one (I'm in my office for my office hours right now).
3) Reconnecting with my sweet freshmen in my 1:00 class, the little class that I teach right in the Farrand dorm, as part of CU's residential academic program: all the students from the class live in the same dorm, and I walk over to the dorm to teach. This particular group is so bright and motivated; I can't wait to share with them the book we'll be focusing on for the final two weeks of the semester: Shambhala, or The Sacred Path of the Warrior.
4) Dinner at Dazzle, the jazz club in Denver, where Christopher is playing drums tonight with a combo sponsored by the Rocky Mountain Center for Musical Arts.
5) The concert at Dazzzle, watching Christopher doing something he loves so much, and hearing some great mellow jazz as well.
Those are my five for today. I haven't yet planned my full five for tomorrow, but I know one of them will be luxuriating in a free morning at home, with time to write and catch up on some of that grading, and another will be Christopher's concert with the symphonic band at Metro State, playing trombone this time. That means I have to come up with three more - ooh, maybe an early morning walk with my friend Rowan, and maybe baking a pan of apple crisp - and one more - what should it be??
And then five more on Wednesday, and five on Thursday, and . . . .
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The Risks and Rewards of Self-Googling
Thanksgiving break meant time to write, time to read, time for family and friends - and, alas, time to spend at the computer Googling myself and my books to see what I could find. In the days before the Internet, I would anxiously await each of the half dozen or so published reviews that would follow the publication of each book to see what Horn Book, Booklist, School Library Journal, Kirkus, the Bulletin from the the Center for Children's Books, and Publishers Weekly had to say. But now I can check the Internet any time day or night to find out what various bloggers have to say - in fact, I have a Google blog alert set so that I will get an email telling me whenever I am mentioned in a blog. (Well, whenever "Claudia Mills" is mentioned in a blog, which might be me, but also might be the marine biologist Claudia Mills, or the fabric artist Claudia Mills, or the young British singer Claudia Mills). And I can also go to the fascinating website Goodreads to find out what real people, actual readers, are saying about my books.
Oh, this is a perilous thing to do!
For How Oliver Olson Changed the World, Goodreads gives 54 ratings of my book, with an average rating of 3.89 on a five-point scale, and 31 actual reader reviews. Some are wonderful: "Better than gold. Better than diamonds and jewels," says Elizabeth, who is Elizabeth Bird of the ultra-mega-major-prominent blog Fuse 8. Yay! But somebody called "The Library Lady" said: "Pretty ordinary story from a writer who does nice ordinary books for kids. Nothing here to rock my world or theirs." Ooh! I hate the Library Lady! I hate her! And "Lana" said: "What a perfect book for young middle-graders. The characters, the tone, the voice, the not-too-complex plot--Claudia Mills nailed each one." I love Lana! And then some guy named Eric, who is apparently a teacher, said that he hated the teacher in the book (who in my opinion is a WONDERFUL teacher who lets her students' passion for the planetary status of Pluto drive how she teaches the entire unit on the solar system); he hates her because she assigns spelling homework and has her students make dioramas! "Yuck!" says Eric. Well, Eric, I say: Yuck to you!
What value, if any, is there to reading these reader comments? Part of me thinks that there has to be some value: why on earth wouldn't a writer care about what her readers think? What kind of insulated, isolated, narcissistic creature would I have to be NOT to care? Isn't the whole point of writing - or at least a pretty significant point - to connect with readers? So gathering reader responses to my work, so helpfully collated on Goodreads, can help me grow as a writer. But of course all these responses have to be taken with a grain - nay, an entire shaker - of salt. Because, as my little sampling above just revealed, readers differ: what one loves, another hates; what moves one leaves another lukewarm and indifferent (with her world unrocked - oh, Library Lady!). It's a helpful exercise in perspective to Google other people's books as well - even authors I adore, where I cannot imagine any human being anywhere not adoring their books, get rankings less than 4 on the 5-point scale. Anne Tyler's Ladder of Years, one of my most favorite books EVER, got an average ranking on Goodreads of 3.64 - lower than Oliver Olson! This could make me want to throw up my hands and abandon the whole enterprise of self-Googling altogether.
But it doesn't. It makes me want to continue to do it, but sparingly - not too often, so I don't drive myself crazy - and with some perspective, as well. I have to confess that it also makes me want to write some book someday that WILL rock the Library Lady's world. And maybe that's a good thing.
Oh, this is a perilous thing to do!
For How Oliver Olson Changed the World, Goodreads gives 54 ratings of my book, with an average rating of 3.89 on a five-point scale, and 31 actual reader reviews. Some are wonderful: "Better than gold. Better than diamonds and jewels," says Elizabeth, who is Elizabeth Bird of the ultra-mega-major-prominent blog Fuse 8. Yay! But somebody called "The Library Lady" said: "Pretty ordinary story from a writer who does nice ordinary books for kids. Nothing here to rock my world or theirs." Ooh! I hate the Library Lady! I hate her! And "Lana" said: "What a perfect book for young middle-graders. The characters, the tone, the voice, the not-too-complex plot--Claudia Mills nailed each one." I love Lana! And then some guy named Eric, who is apparently a teacher, said that he hated the teacher in the book (who in my opinion is a WONDERFUL teacher who lets her students' passion for the planetary status of Pluto drive how she teaches the entire unit on the solar system); he hates her because she assigns spelling homework and has her students make dioramas! "Yuck!" says Eric. Well, Eric, I say: Yuck to you!
What value, if any, is there to reading these reader comments? Part of me thinks that there has to be some value: why on earth wouldn't a writer care about what her readers think? What kind of insulated, isolated, narcissistic creature would I have to be NOT to care? Isn't the whole point of writing - or at least a pretty significant point - to connect with readers? So gathering reader responses to my work, so helpfully collated on Goodreads, can help me grow as a writer. But of course all these responses have to be taken with a grain - nay, an entire shaker - of salt. Because, as my little sampling above just revealed, readers differ: what one loves, another hates; what moves one leaves another lukewarm and indifferent (with her world unrocked - oh, Library Lady!). It's a helpful exercise in perspective to Google other people's books as well - even authors I adore, where I cannot imagine any human being anywhere not adoring their books, get rankings less than 4 on the 5-point scale. Anne Tyler's Ladder of Years, one of my most favorite books EVER, got an average ranking on Goodreads of 3.64 - lower than Oliver Olson! This could make me want to throw up my hands and abandon the whole enterprise of self-Googling altogether.
But it doesn't. It makes me want to continue to do it, but sparingly - not too often, so I don't drive myself crazy - and with some perspective, as well. I have to confess that it also makes me want to write some book someday that WILL rock the Library Lady's world. And maybe that's a good thing.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Grateful
One time when my sister and I were home for Thanksgiving in New Jersey, we glanced at the Courier News for the day and were cracked up by the huge headline: "Central Jerseyans Thankful - Family, Friends, Top Grateful List." Breaking news! Extra, extra, read all about it!
But what other headline could there really be for Thanksgiving, this one day a year when we all do sit down and make our grateful lists? Family and friends top mine, of course. But I have to say that right behind them comes work: I am truly grateful that I have work that I love to do, work that gives my life meaning and purpose and tons of fun.
It's become a cliche to say that work can't compare to family and friends: "No one ever lay on his deathbed and said, 'I wish I had spent more time at the office.'" Fair enough. But I can well imagine somene saying, on her deathbed, "I wish I had written that novel I always wanted to write" or "I wish I had taken time in my busy days to scribble a poem or two or three" or "I wish I had followed my dreams and shared the stories I've yearned to tell."
I'm grateful above all for the family with whom I'll be eating our Thanksgiving feast, and for other family members, just as dear, who will celebrating thousands of miles away. But I'm also grateful for every hour I have spent chasing after my dreams. My grateful list is long, indeed.
But what other headline could there really be for Thanksgiving, this one day a year when we all do sit down and make our grateful lists? Family and friends top mine, of course. But I have to say that right behind them comes work: I am truly grateful that I have work that I love to do, work that gives my life meaning and purpose and tons of fun.
It's become a cliche to say that work can't compare to family and friends: "No one ever lay on his deathbed and said, 'I wish I had spent more time at the office.'" Fair enough. But I can well imagine somene saying, on her deathbed, "I wish I had written that novel I always wanted to write" or "I wish I had taken time in my busy days to scribble a poem or two or three" or "I wish I had followed my dreams and shared the stories I've yearned to tell."
I'm grateful above all for the family with whom I'll be eating our Thanksgiving feast, and for other family members, just as dear, who will celebrating thousands of miles away. But I'm also grateful for every hour I have spent chasing after my dreams. My grateful list is long, indeed.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
More Hours or More Days?
Thanksgiving break is bliss! I'm ahead on writing, ahead on my one-a-day extra little tasks, behind on grading my five papers a day - but the good thing about grading is that one way or another, it always does get done. I took not one but two glorious walks yesterday, with two different friends; I have a third friend lined up for a mountain walk this afternoon.
Of course, I wish that Thanksgiving break would last longer, and yet, I have to say that by evening yesterday, I felt that the day was seeming a bit, well, long. Write, write, grade a couple of papers, walk, read, read, walk, write, read, read, read. I really didn't feel like writing or reading any more that day, even as I could hardly wait to start writing and reading again tomorrow.
This made me think how often people say that they wish there were more hours in a day. I never wish this. Instead I wish that there were more days in a week. By suppertime, I'm tired; I don't want the day to go on and on and on. What I love best is that first hour of the early morning, full of hope and promise. I want more of THOSE - but you can't have two first hours of the day on the same day, two bursts of hope and promise. First hours, hours of hope and promise, are meant to come just once a day. So that is why I need not more hours, but more days.
Especially more days of Thanksgiving break.
Of course, I wish that Thanksgiving break would last longer, and yet, I have to say that by evening yesterday, I felt that the day was seeming a bit, well, long. Write, write, grade a couple of papers, walk, read, read, walk, write, read, read, read. I really didn't feel like writing or reading any more that day, even as I could hardly wait to start writing and reading again tomorrow.
This made me think how often people say that they wish there were more hours in a day. I never wish this. Instead I wish that there were more days in a week. By suppertime, I'm tired; I don't want the day to go on and on and on. What I love best is that first hour of the early morning, full of hope and promise. I want more of THOSE - but you can't have two first hours of the day on the same day, two bursts of hope and promise. First hours, hours of hope and promise, are meant to come just once a day. So that is why I need not more hours, but more days.
Especially more days of Thanksgiving break.
Monday, November 23, 2009
First Draft Done
This morning, I got up around 5:00, awakened by the incessant meowing of the world's most insistent alarm clock, my cat, Snickers. I made myself my oversized mug of Swiss Miss hot chocolate. And I finished writing Chapter 10 of the first draft of the new chapter book, which means that the entire first draft is now done.
Some writers - most? - say that they hate to write first drafts, they just have to force themselves somehow to get through a first draft, and then they can settle down to the true joy of writing, which is rewriting, taking that half-baked, embarrassing thing and turning it into a slightly more baked, less embarrassing thing, watching the story strengthen, the characters deepen, before their very eyes.
Well, I do love revision. But secretly I love writing the first draft most. I love everything about it. I write my first drafts with a pen on paper; subsequent drafts I do on the computer - and I love best writing with a pen on paper. I love watching the pages mount up, line by line by line. I love finding out what happens, the same way the reader would find it out; I love hearing my characters say and do things I didn't ever plan for them to say and do. Subsequent drafts are always more deliberate, intentional - I think hard in subsequent drafts about what has to be added, subtracted, changed, to produce a more coherent, unified, suspenseful, funny story. But the first draft just . . . happens, just emerges on the page. For me, while subsequent drafts are where the true craftsmanship of writing shows, the first draft is where the magic is - it's where the elves miraculously appear in the night and do their fairy stitching.
Even as I say this, I do have to confess that in just about every single one of my books, my favorite scene ended up being a scene I added in the very last draft, after months and months of revision. So there is plenty of wonderment later on as well.
But there is still nothing like that first draft - that maiden voyage of discovery, when you just might set off for India and end up in a new and completely unexpected world.
Some writers - most? - say that they hate to write first drafts, they just have to force themselves somehow to get through a first draft, and then they can settle down to the true joy of writing, which is rewriting, taking that half-baked, embarrassing thing and turning it into a slightly more baked, less embarrassing thing, watching the story strengthen, the characters deepen, before their very eyes.
Well, I do love revision. But secretly I love writing the first draft most. I love everything about it. I write my first drafts with a pen on paper; subsequent drafts I do on the computer - and I love best writing with a pen on paper. I love watching the pages mount up, line by line by line. I love finding out what happens, the same way the reader would find it out; I love hearing my characters say and do things I didn't ever plan for them to say and do. Subsequent drafts are always more deliberate, intentional - I think hard in subsequent drafts about what has to be added, subtracted, changed, to produce a more coherent, unified, suspenseful, funny story. But the first draft just . . . happens, just emerges on the page. For me, while subsequent drafts are where the true craftsmanship of writing shows, the first draft is where the magic is - it's where the elves miraculously appear in the night and do their fairy stitching.
Even as I say this, I do have to confess that in just about every single one of my books, my favorite scene ended up being a scene I added in the very last draft, after months and months of revision. So there is plenty of wonderment later on as well.
But there is still nothing like that first draft - that maiden voyage of discovery, when you just might set off for India and end up in a new and completely unexpected world.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Making a Plan
It's Thanksgiving break at the university, hooray, hooray! If I think about how much work I need to get done over the next nine days, I will feel overwhelmed with stress and misery, instead of lighthearted and merry. So I need to make a plan.
For example, if I consider the fact that I made the due date for the papers in BOTH classes be yesterday, so that I now have 22 papers to grade for one class and 47 (!) for the other, I will sit paralyzed with doubt that I can grade even one paper, let alone 69. But, if I tell myself, "Just do five papers each day," for eight days (not counting Thanksgiving), then I will have 40 of them done by the end of the break - and probably, thinking realistically, I don't have 69 papers, as probably I granted a bunch of extensions to people that I've already forgotten about. So maybe I have 60 papers: do 40 over the break, and then do 20 (at the same rate of 5 a day) the week after the break. Papers, done!
I often have lunch at one sandwich joint on the Hill where you order sandwiches, writing down your order on a brown paper bag, checking off your choice in half a dozen different categories: kind of roll (white or wheat), kind of protein, kind of mayonaise, kind of veggies, kind of condiments. That is how I am going to organize my eight days of Thanksgiving break. Each day I will choose from the following menu, one item from each category:
1. Grade five papers (any five from either class).
2. Write one page on my chapter book-in-progress for an hour OR spend one hour revising my sequel to 7 x 9 = Trouble! (now returned to me by my editor).
3. Do at least one thing from the following list: write up one last teaching observation, write one last recommendation letter, write any of the five book reviews I need to do for Children's Literature.
4. Take one long walk.
5. Have one episode of fun either with my mother, the boys, or a friend.
It's a plan!
For example, if I consider the fact that I made the due date for the papers in BOTH classes be yesterday, so that I now have 22 papers to grade for one class and 47 (!) for the other, I will sit paralyzed with doubt that I can grade even one paper, let alone 69. But, if I tell myself, "Just do five papers each day," for eight days (not counting Thanksgiving), then I will have 40 of them done by the end of the break - and probably, thinking realistically, I don't have 69 papers, as probably I granted a bunch of extensions to people that I've already forgotten about. So maybe I have 60 papers: do 40 over the break, and then do 20 (at the same rate of 5 a day) the week after the break. Papers, done!
I often have lunch at one sandwich joint on the Hill where you order sandwiches, writing down your order on a brown paper bag, checking off your choice in half a dozen different categories: kind of roll (white or wheat), kind of protein, kind of mayonaise, kind of veggies, kind of condiments. That is how I am going to organize my eight days of Thanksgiving break. Each day I will choose from the following menu, one item from each category:
1. Grade five papers (any five from either class).
2. Write one page on my chapter book-in-progress for an hour OR spend one hour revising my sequel to 7 x 9 = Trouble! (now returned to me by my editor).
3. Do at least one thing from the following list: write up one last teaching observation, write one last recommendation letter, write any of the five book reviews I need to do for Children's Literature.
4. Take one long walk.
5. Have one episode of fun either with my mother, the boys, or a friend.
It's a plan!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Writing Anything
I like to write anything.
I think this is an important thing for people to remember who want desperately to write a big important book and publish it with a big fancy New York publisher. I want that, too, oh, yes, I do.
But I also like to write anything. And publish it anywhere.
This afternoon I'm going to interview a surpassingly delightful woman in my church for a little feature for our church newsletter called "Saint of the Month" in which we feature some member who has made wonderful contributions to our church community. As we have a relatively small church with an extremely active memberhip, this means that just about everybody is a "saint" in this way. So this afternoon I will go talk to Skippy and get some juicy details for my article. I already have one: this woman, who hails from Texas and speaks with a terrific Texas twang, and dresses in a different elegant outfit whenever you see her, wrote a master's thesis on the novels of Anthony Trollope!
Then, as soon as I finish interviewing Skippy, I'm heading off to the launch party for the new issue of a campus online literary magazine called sub-scribe, in which I have three poems included. The theme of this issue is "recovery," a topic on which I consider myself to be something of an expert. I have no idea how many people read sub-scribe. But I loved writing the poems, and I'm thrilled that sub-scribe is publishing them, and now I get to go read them at a launch party. How fun is that?
Write anything. Publish it anywhere.
I think this is an important thing for people to remember who want desperately to write a big important book and publish it with a big fancy New York publisher. I want that, too, oh, yes, I do.
But I also like to write anything. And publish it anywhere.
This afternoon I'm going to interview a surpassingly delightful woman in my church for a little feature for our church newsletter called "Saint of the Month" in which we feature some member who has made wonderful contributions to our church community. As we have a relatively small church with an extremely active memberhip, this means that just about everybody is a "saint" in this way. So this afternoon I will go talk to Skippy and get some juicy details for my article. I already have one: this woman, who hails from Texas and speaks with a terrific Texas twang, and dresses in a different elegant outfit whenever you see her, wrote a master's thesis on the novels of Anthony Trollope!
Then, as soon as I finish interviewing Skippy, I'm heading off to the launch party for the new issue of a campus online literary magazine called sub-scribe, in which I have three poems included. The theme of this issue is "recovery," a topic on which I consider myself to be something of an expert. I have no idea how many people read sub-scribe. But I loved writing the poems, and I'm thrilled that sub-scribe is publishing them, and now I get to go read them at a launch party. How fun is that?
Write anything. Publish it anywhere.
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