J is for Just Remember

I’ve been thinking about how the small things that happen to us, change us. I’m well traveled. My honeymoon was a three week adventure, driving around Namibia (what used to be German Southwest Africa) in an unair-conditioned Ford, diesel station wagon and camping under the stars. A weekend adventure to Costa Rica to zip line the canopy, only to sprain my ankle so badly, I couldn’t. Skinny-dipping in November in the Baltic Sea off of Sweden.

Visiting the German City of Dachau, on a rainy winter’s day to visit the concentration camp.

From the car, we followed the signs for the entrance, down a path along a gray concrete wall. A group of Czech teens were laughing and joking ahead of us. I think I looked up then because the wall seemed unnaturally high. That was when I realized we were walking the exterior perimeter of the camp. A guard tower peaked through the trees and vines, chilling me.

My husband took my hand.

Approaching the entrance wasn’t difficult, what made it hard was knowing that I was about to willingly walk through the gate when others had never had a choice. I needed to compose myself. I closed my eyes and was instantly swept back by the smell of fear coming from the railroad bed under my feet. Time was disjointed, I had to open my eyes.

I heard my name and moved closer to the gate. This is what I saw.

Being there was eerie, as again time wavered between then and now. The place wreaked of despair. My eyes watered the entire time.

As dusk approached, groups of people moved toward the gate. The Czech teens, subdued.
No shouts of Halt as I exited through the gate. No rapid fire machine guns popping. Silence except for the footfalls of those around me.

Then the sky exploded. A sonic boom, my husband said. I felt time tear and this is what happened.

DACHAU REVISITED

Metallic drizzle glazes the decades.

Knees tremble stepping from the car.

Our forced march through time defies fear.

Subtle grays disguise the truth,

a spasm of recognition etches guard tower, ruined wall.

Now covered in vines, leaves of brown

plaster tightly to bricks and mortar.

I walk, eyes straight ahead.

Grays shift in the corner of my vision,

twist into muted shapes of rigor mortis.

Wrought iron lies greet me.

Beyond, the shadows coagulate into ghosts of the once-living

wearing gray and white stripes like the criss-cross of barbed wire.

Gravel crunches underfoot; I taste ashes in my mouth.

Forced march -- double-time -- down the avenue to the gate.

I feel the noose around my neck, choking.

Ovens cold and dark, hungry lips coated with what I do not want

to see. I can’t close my eyes,

I don’t want to look.

I can’t stop.

Jostled and bumped by mournful souls, I flee

through the gate of lies.

Truth explodes around me.

A sonic boom rips through the air, tearing time.

Ghosts walk along side me, through me

Liberated.

NESCBWI 2011 Agent Quick Query Sneak Peek Interview with Agent Stephen Fraser

With registration opening on February 15th for the NESCBWI 2011 Celebrating Milestones Conference, I wanted to give everyone a chance to find out what the 2011 Agent Quick Query agents are thinking. 

First up, Stephen Fraser of Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency.

Stephen Fraser

1.  What makes for a healthy working relationship between you and your authors?

Clients need to know that the onus is one them to stay in touch. I will stay in touch with clients as I submit manuscripts and then as I get rejections or offers. I am good about responding right away. But an e-mail or call from a client as a reminder doesn’t hurt; and I don’t mind.  If a client hasn’t heard from me for months, that is really their fault. With more than 40 clients to handle, I can’t be in touch with all of them all the time. Except, of course, if I am selling all their books!

2.  What are you always looking for but never receive in a submission?

I have been extremely fortunate.  The most wonderful manuscripts have found their way to me…and into publication. So, I can’t complain. We had a PEN award winner last year and a Newbery Honor winner this year. Yahoo!

3.  What is your agent style?

I am quick to respond, honest in feedback, friendly with editors - albeit persistent. One of my clients called me "a true gentleman of the business," which was extremely kind. But I like to think it's true. I do think civility is important. And I think Fun is an important part of this whole thing, too. It's a joyful thing to be involved with children's books.

4.  What do you see as upcoming trends in the industry? What themes do you see as having endurance?

Y.A. has been having a comeback, thanks to certain vampires.  I think paranormal is probably here to stay, but I think vampires may be replaced by other creatures. I’m frankly am bored by the dystopian novel, because I think it’s too easy to get depressed about the world right now.  I’d rather see someone try something bolder like optimism or humor.  Middle grade certainly is not going anywhere, either historical or contemporary.  Chapter books are becoming more of a staple.  And I would [like] to believe that picture books, lyrical and imagistic and beautiful, will always have a place.

5.  What would you like to see more of and why?

I’d like to see more mysteries and ghost stories (really scary ghost stories). Love stories are always fun. Nonfiction that is one of a kind and fresh is always welcome. I adore poetry – though it can be hard to sell (I’ll try!) And funny books, truly funny books.  

6.  What conferences will you attend this year?

Right now I have three invitations, including Montana and Iowa SCBWI. I’ll probably accept a couple more.

A Decade Gone!

Today my daughter turns 10. It may not seem like a major milestone to some, but it is for me. I find it hard to believe she is changing from a little girl to an emerging teen.  

Her beauty isn’t just skin deep. At 10, she possesses much poise, has a great sense a humor, is learning the flute, is very creative and artistic, and is still young enough to dream big, which she does.

She is beautiful!

With double digits, comes more sophisticated problems; navigating the endless girl drama, the beginning of hormone changes, self image conflicts, confidence issues, and so much more. I forgot how hard this all was. Or maybe, it was so traumatic I pushed it way back into the dark recess of my mind. But either way, I hope she doesn't get to caught up in it all and forget to be true to herself.

What I do know, is that she is a gift. Unexpected, but welcomed more so than any other event in my life. I want her to always know she is loved and cherished, and never want her to question her origins, like I did. She is flesh of my flesh, not adopted like me. Therefore, she was always wanted from the very first moment when I realized she was possible.

I wrote this poem shortly after she was born, knowing my miracle had happened.

So for Kendra on your 10th birthday, here is your poem.

INFERNO

The spark exploded
from within.
I held you deep inside;
the suddenness of your being possessed me.
I knew you existed from that moment.
Whispered you were inside me, an untold story
the first words, the first sentence above:
The Spark.

I warmed as you ignited into a tiny flame;
I had not experienced this before.
Not with your brother

or the one I lost before him.
Only you.
Was it because you were so unexpected,

created from joy? I don’t know.
But there you were:

My Spark.

I whispered your arrival to a stunned face,

hazel eyes dipping, reaching into me.
Those words surprised me, filled me with wonder

as astonishing as you,
I felt it too! he said.

Our Spark.

Now, thousands of hours later, I look at you
and burn inside, womb clenching,
trying to hold on.
The world outside beckons, tempts you
with twigs of knowledge
once consumed by your fire,
your hunger grows.

I can only contain you for a short time longer.

Your Spark.

You are an inferno of life, a fire, a light
so bright,
my own spark pales,
but never does my joy for you,

My Inferno.