The Inkslinger

A Merger in the Works

2011-04-20T10:50:00.000-05:00

So. The question arises: who really needs two blogs?

Hmm. Not me, since it's too hard to keep things separate, especially when everything in my life seems to filter through the farm anyway.

So Farm Tales and the Inkslinger will be combined into Farm Tales and Sheepish Stories. The Inkslinger will quietly retire.

Thanks to those of you who followed me here. Please join me at Farm Tales and Sheepish Stories, available from my profile, or from my website, catherinefriend.com

Topics? Books and calves and publishing and lambs and anything else that may come up. It's all life.

Technologically Challenged

2011-04-12T09:59:00.000-05:00

I had a great time last night speaking before an enthusiastic group in Jordan, MN. The community has a small, small library, but that didn't stop people from packing themselves in.

After years of speaking at libraries with nothing but my books as props, I've joined the 21st century, and put together my first Power Point presentation. It's mostly photos, but there are few slides with text. The first two days I worked with PP, I cursed a blue streak 'cause nothing worked as I wanted it to. The third day the light bulb went off and I was able to make things happen.

Connecting to a library's projector is much easier than I thought. Plug in, hit a few keys, and voila! And I even have a remote clicker. How high tech is that?

I do need a bit more practice however.

Whenever I wanted to advance the slide, I'd point the clicker at the screen (not the computer), and wonder why nothing happened.

Although I'm not so good with technology, I luckily have lots of experience laughing at myself!

And the winner is...

2011-03-08T08:39:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to Carol B, who won three books from my bookshelf on writing for young adults. Carol, could you email me your address? catherine AT catherinefriend DOT com.

I'll send the books out later this week!

Thinning the Herd (of Books)

2011-03-01T13:10:00.000-06:00

It's March, which means both Melissa and I have birthdays. So instead of expecting gifts, I've decided to thin my herd of writing books by giving some away. These books should be circulating, helping others, instead of gathering dust as I ignore them. So if you write, or want to write, or know someone who writes, these books are for you.

I'll have four 'drawings,' one each Monday, until March---and winter---have both slipped away.

The first give-away is a group of three books about writing for young adults. They're good books, brand-new, and I've gleaned all I can from them.

Interested? Just post a comment. Next Monday (March 7th) I'll pick a winner from those who've commented, then I'll announce the next group of books.

The three books are:

Writing Great Books For Young Adults, by Regina Brooks
Wild Ink: How to Write Fiction for Young Adults , by Victoria Hanley
Writing and Selling the YA Novel, by K.L. Going

The Blurbs are In!

2011-02-23T12:41:00.000-06:00

There is a point in a book's life when it hovers somewhere between a typed manuscript and a printed book. One of the things that happens at this stage---when it's more than a manuscript but less than a book---is that other authors are asked if they'd read the almost-book and say something about it (hopefully positive!) This 'something' is called a blurb.

So the material goes out, and the almost-book's author waits, holding her breath. Will they like it?

Finally, the four blurbs for Sheepish are in. Turns out I can start breathing again. And I'm so grateful to these four authors for taking the time to read the manuscript and put down their thoughts. Writing a blurb is harder than you'd think.

Blurb 1:

“Fans of Hit by a Farm will get another dose of Catherine Friend’s signature wit and moxie with Sheepish, as she faces a rough patch on the farm, but still manages to be hilarious. In the end, Friend’s enthusiasm will make you want to raise sheep, or at least wear wool undies.”
—Novella Carpenter, author of Farm City

Blurb 2

“A graceful collection of farm-life vignettes becomes a whole even greater than the sum of its lovely parts as Catherine Friend…builds the story of a partnership rich in love, humor, and perhaps most importantly, sheep.”
—Rachael Herron, How to Knit a Love Song

Blurb 3

“Sheepish is as smart and funny as its title. Catherine Friend takes us along on her quest to master the other ‘oldest profession.’ Warning: It may make you want to drop everything and go tend a flock.”
—Meg Daly Olmert, author of Made for Each Other: The Biology of the Human-Animal Bond

Blurb 4:

“Wry, witty, and honest, Sheepish describes a magical personal transformation—from urban to rural. Catherine Friend finds meaning in the middle of life, love and even knitting projects. Friend brings out the urge to farm in knitters, spinners, and ‘fiber freaks’ everywhere, teaching us to find joy and contentment in the small, sheepy parts of our world.
—Joanne Seiff, author of Fiber Gathering and Knit Green

Sheepish Cover!

2011-02-17T10:09:00.000-06:00

It's always exciting when the publisher sends you the first crack at your book's cover. You don't know what it's going to look like until it appears in your inbox.

I usually fuss quite a bit, and have way more suggestions for change than the publisher wants to hear. So when my editor sent me the cover for Sheepish, she nearly choked on her Starbucks when I emailed back that I loved it. "It's great!" I email-screamed.

Then there was a delay in the book's release date (my fault, not the publisher's.) When it came time to get serious about the cover again, they sent me a new version. I didn't like it. I found it blah. I lay my head on my keyboard, in mourning for the first version, then I sat up and let my fingers do the talking. I worked hard to convince both my editor and the art director that the first version had SPUNK! PIZAZZ! COOLNESS!

To make a long story short, they agreed with me, and we returned to the original design. Here's my new GREAT cover:

The True Story Behind My "Author" Photo

2011-02-13T20:20:00.000-06:00

It's time for a new author photo. I really dislike this whole process because I'm not that comfortable in front of a camera. Because the photo is for my memoir, Sheepish, which is obviously about sheep, I thought it would be fun to get a few sheep into the photo.

It was a brisk late October afternoon when photographers Karen and Pattie tramped out to the pasture with me. The plan was to sprinkle some corn on the ground, thus attracting the sheep. The sheep would happily munch in the background, and I'd try to look relaxed as Karen snapped shot after shot.

I sprinkled the corn. I plopped down onto the ground.

But before I could even really get myself situated, one of the sheep---a tame one---wandered up. Hey, whatcha doing?

Before I could explain, she caught sight of the camera. Oooh, a photo of me? Lucky for you, all my sides are my best sides.

She then sent intense, sultry looks toward the camera. She tossed back a few locks of fleece. She turned to the left, then the right. She allowed me to snuggle up next to her, but only because it would make her look good. This sheep has clearly had some runway training.

Karen started snapping photos. The ewe and I chatted, but she only had eyes for that camera. I scratched her neck, kissed her nose, and whispered complimentary things in her ears. She loved it all, and stood in one place for an amazingly long time. Karen got a gazillion photos. Finally the ewe decided she was done sharing the limelight with me, so she wandered away, but tossed a 'follow me, let's ditch the farmer' look over her shoulder. Karen followed, and once I was out of the frame, the ewe stood still again for another gazillion photos.

We're always on the look-out for ways to make more money on the farm. I wonder if there's any money in getting this ewe her own facebook page, website, and circulating her 8x10 glossies to the modeling agencies.

Here's the final photo that will be on the back cover of Sheepish:

2009-12-05T15:01:00.000-06:00

Me and Melissa and Garrison Keillor

It's been nearly two months, but that day in October will be a highlight for a long, long time. I'm just now finding the energy to write about it!

Garrison Keillor hosted the fundraising event our arts organization put together. The show had roof-raising music. It had a Lone Ranger radio show, with Garrison as Tonto, the Lone Ranger's Norwegian sidekick. It had a 35-minute News from Lake Wobegon. We had a fancy dinner afterwards. In summary, we had a great, great time.

Here Melissa and I greet Garrison when he arrives.

Here I'm showing him around the theater.

Here's a shot from the show, but if you want to see more, go to
http://www.zaac.org/redshoesslideshow.html

And at the dinner...

If anyone is interested in ordering the double CD of this great show, just head for http://www.zaac.org/RedShoes_CD_order_form_.pdf , where you can download an order form. This would make a great Xmas present for any Garrison Keillor fan. (All proceeds go towards our efforts to buy the State Theatre and use it as a non-profit arts center.)

Because the event was initially my idea, I seemed to have ended up in charge. It was an incredible learning experience for me, and other than the EXTREME tension as the day arrived, I'm glad I did it. This show, however, could not have happened without people stepping up and volunteering. And I'm so grateful that Garrison drove down here and gave us hours of his energy and stories.

2009-08-09T09:45:00.000-05:00

Recording an Audio Book (The Third and Last Installment!)

Karen, one of the Dog Ear Audio owners, asked me if I was like Emma, the modern main character in A Pirate's Heart. As usual, I had to reply that all my heroines were smarter, funnier, and braver than I am. I proved this the afternoon we escaped the sound booth (Pattie had to listen to the entire recording in search of problems we'd missed), so Melissa, Karen and I went sightseeing at the Florissant Fossil Beds.

When we returned to the car, a man pointed out that our tire sidewall was about to blow. In A Pirate's Heart, Emma skillfully changes a tire, gently needling Randi for not knowing how. Karen and Melissa changed the tire, while I helped out by returning to the Interpretive Center to go shopping.

Nope, not Emma.

We redid the first three chapters I'd recorded, since I'd been a little uptight and that came through in my voice. Then after Pattie had listened to the whole thing and highlighted in blue those sentences I needed to redo, we redid those 'blue lines.' Some chapters had one or five, a few had none. I'd pop into the sound booth, skim the page to find my place in the story, then record the phrase.

And then, after six days in the booth, I was done! It was an incredible feeling. I'd been scared, nervous, worried and doubtful, but I'd made it through, and I'd done a job I could be proud of.

We celebrated by visiting an earth ship, an earth-sheltered home Pascha had built using recycled tires, adobe, and lots of clever engineering.

What's next? Pattie must go through and find all my clicker marks---replacing the messed up version with the improved version. She must do another 'fine listening', tweaking the sound, trying to soften any 'plosives' we missed. (Bs and Ps can make this irritating pop into the microphone that no one wants to hear.)

Pattie and Karen will put in the disc numbers, add music, then place hidden 'chapter points' about every 90 seconds or so. This allows folks to skip ahead, or backward, to different tracks, faster. Then they'll 'normalize' and 'hard limit' the entire recording, so the sound volume is consistent throughout, and then they put everything to discs for a final 'fine-fine' listening.

These poor women have to listen to an audio book a zillion times before it goes out, so they only choose books they love.

Here's what I've learned about writing after recording an audio book:

1) Never use words with more than two syllables. After a few hours of reading, tongues refuse to cooperate when you reach three syllable words.

2) Never use words with Ss in them---these are impossible to pronounce without your mouth sounding like Niagara Falls. I'm so done with Ss. Whoops---I mean I am totally done with Ss.

3) Avoid words like 'indigent', 'glistening,' 'remembering', 'contentment,' ...and a host of other words. From now on all my novels will read like Dick and Jane.

I've also learned that speaking your work out loud helps you find problems you totally miss when reading, so that's the most important thing I've learned: No matter how long, no matter the genre, I'm going to read everything out loud before sending it off to an editor.

Thanks, Pattie and Karen, for a great week and an incredible learning experience!

2009-08-05T07:43:00.001-05:00

Recording an Audio Book, Part Two

I'm not an actor. My sole thesbian (thesbian!) experience was playing a townsperson in Rumplestiltskin during the summer YMCA Theater Camp when I was 12, something my mom made me join because I was shy.

My role was to run across the stage screaming, frightening the other townspeople and the audience. This is a ridiculous role to give to a shy person. The director had me do it over and over again, but I refused to do more than barely raise my voice. The only person frightened by my performance was me.

I would be Dog Ear Audio's first non-acting author to narrate her book---Clifford Henderson narrated her WONDERFUL novel The Middle of Somewhere, but Cliffi's an actor, and knew what she was doing. So when I showed up at the Dog Ear studio that first morning, I was very nervous.

A Pirate's Heart has two threads: a modern thread, Emma's story, and an historical thread, Captain Thomasina Farris's story. We decided I would record all of Emma's story first. They showed me their equipment and the funny software that turned my voice into spikes and pulses on the screen. I was too nervous to register much of it.

Inside the booth, I began. Karen and Pattie were incredibly supportive and encouraging.

Other than the microphone, my most important tool was the dog clicker in my right hand. Whenever I heard myself make a mistake, I clicked, and redid the sentence. The clicker makes a spike on Pattie's computer so she can more easily go back, find the spikes, and replace the bad version with the corrected version.

Sometimes this goes smoothly, sometimes not.

Here's an example: "Why was I so obsessed with Tommy Farris?"

Why wuziso---click.

Why was I so possessed---click.

Why was I so obsessed with Fommy Tarris---click.

Here's where you fall apart and begin giggling hysterically, causing Karen and Pattie to peer through the little window, concerned your breakdown is coming so soon in the process.

I hadn't been reading more than 20 minutes when they stopped me and Karen came into the booth. "We're hearing a strange noise in here, one we can't identify." I was wearing sweatpants for comfort, and had been pulling them up to my knees, pushing them down, and rubbing my hands nervously on my thighs.

Distraction time. Pattie handed me a small, smooth stone. "Hold this in your hand and you won't be able to rub your sweatpants."

Armed with stone and clicker, I pushed on. I would read a chapter, then step out of the booth and Karen would go over those sentences or phrases I needed to redo. They called them 'repairs.' Repairs were usually needed because I'd mushed two words together, missed an important word, or some outside force had interfered (planes passing overhead, trucks rumbling down the gravel road, thunder, and the most embarrassing, my stomach---stomach growling comes straight up the throat and into the microphone.)

Back into the booth to record the repairs, then back out for the next chapter. I was drinking GALLONS of water every day to keep me hydrated, so when I wasn't in the booth, guess where I was!

Meanwhile, Dog Ear Audio friends took Melissa fishing.

She went on walks with Hallie.

Karen and Pattie fed us. During meals I was to remain quiet, saving my voice, and they wouldn't let me do any work. Can we say the words "SPOILED AUTHOR"?

They made us a cherry pie, complete with pirate motif.

And when we learned that A Pirate's Heart had won a Golden Crown Literary Award for Historical Fiction, they broke out the champagne, which I couldn't drink because alcohol is bad for the voice. They did present me with a Diet Coke (caffeine is also bad, but hey, we wanted to celebrate), and I chugged it gratefully.

I took lots of breaks, sitting outside for the fresh air, talking to the fox who visited every day. A pair of foxes had a den nearby with 4 full-grown kits, and the male must have needed a break 'cause he'd come sleep in their yard.

I began really enjoying myself in the booth, loving the novel (which is better than hating it!) and really getting into the emotions of telling the story. Each evening and morning I'd read through the upcoming material and edit, smoothly out awkward phrasing, eliminating words that didn't seem necessary.

But as I clicked my way through Emma's story, rubbing that stone for all it was worth, Captain Tommy and her men loomed before me. How was I going to turn myself into a pirate?

Thank God I never once had any of the pirates say 'Arrgggh.'

2009-08-03T10:48:00.000-05:00

Recording an Audio Book, Part One

When Dog Ear Audio asked me to consider coming to Colorado to record an audio version of my novel, A Pirate's Heart, I was hesitant. What did this involve? Could I do it? Was my voice bearable enough to listen to for 9-10 hours? And since I don't listen to audio books myself, I didn't understand the appeal of this form.

Yet I thought---Hmmm, 9 days off the farm would be good for both of us. Dog Ear would put us up in a friend's empty home. They'd feed us. They'd teach me how to do this. "Okay," I emailed back, "it's a plan." Our delightful friend Bonnie agreed to come and farm-sit.

Dog Ear Audio is a new audio book company that focuses on works by lesbian authors. Straight authors and gay men have plenty of audio options, but no one focuses on books by lesbians. Dog Ear is two amazing women, Karen Wolfer and Pattie Olson. They live in a remote area of Colorado called the "High Desert" west of Pike's Peak. They have a dog, Hailey, who has ears. I never got around to asking them if this is where the name came from.

Karen met us at the Colorado Springs airport with a big bouquet of lavender daisies. I have NEVER been met at an airport with flowers. This was my first hint that they were going to treat us very well. (In fact, they treated me so well, calling me their 'talent,' that by the end of the week, the word "Diva" was tossed about.)

The scenery was beautiful, of course.

The air was crisp, clean, and unfortunately for us, contained almost no oxygen. Okay, I exaggerate a bit, but really, at 9000 feet, the air contains 40% less oxygen than at Minnesota's less than 1000 feet above sea level. We both had headaches, which is normal. The hard part was having no air. After brushing her teeth, Melissa was out of breath. After eating a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, I was gasping for air and had to take a rest.

Karen and Pattie have a friend whose house is up for sale, and she allowed us to stay there. This is no mountain cabin, let me tell you. It was a lovely, lovely home on the top of a really, really, big hill. (If you have $389,000 and want to live in the mountains of Colorado, I'll put you in touch with the seller!)

Here are a few views of the house, which is made of straw bales.

See the deep window wells?

That's the width of the straw bale walls. And to prove that the walls really are made of straw, the builder makes a 'truth window,' showing you just what's under the stucco walls.

Dog Ear Audio is located in Pattie and Karen's home, a hub of computers and sound boards and really big microphones. They took me into their lower level to show me the set-up before we began recording the next day.

I've been in radio studios before, with big windows between the studio and the sound technician, and that's what I expecting. Turns out a sound booth isn't like a radio studio, it's like a booth...as in phone booth...as in small.

I stepped into the tiny room and gasped. I'm a bit claustrophobic. I believe my actual words at seeing the sound booth, spoken like the true professional I am, were something like "Accck! Accck!"

Three walls were covered in absorbent foam, and one wall had a small window looking out at the computer/recording desk. Melissa saw my panic and stepped in. "Could we move this microphone so Catherine could see out the little window?" I appreciated Melissa being able to form this important sentence, as I was still stuck on "Acck! Acck!," and lacked the breath for more. (40% less oxygen, remember?)

See the little window above the computer? That was my only connection to the "outside world."

We moved the microphone, set up another lamp in the room to make it cozier, and I decided I'd be fine. Of course it turned out I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn't notice I was spending 8 hours a day in a tiny, tiny room. I think Karen and Pattie worried I'd freak out, banging on the little window to be let out, but I was fine. Here's me visible through the little window.

And here's me in the booth itself.

The little table at my side held water, hot tea, piles of cough drops to soothe my throat, lip balm to keep my lips from drying out, a box of tissues, and two very important items: a stone, and a white dog training clicker. (See the clicker in my hand?) Both the stone and the clicker became my best friends over the next seven days. I'll explain why in my next installment.

Now I gotta go make lunch for Melissa and me. For days Karen and Pattie fed us, and I'm a little put out that I must now cook again.

I liked being a diva.

2009-07-21T20:10:00.001-05:00

Scary Stuff

When I write about writing, it's often after something has been published or won an award, and that's not scary.

What's really scary is to talk about my writing in the middle of it, when I don't know what it is, when I'm terrified it's not a real book, when I wake up at night and convince myself I've just constructed the worst book in the world.

That's where I am right now, and it's not a place I like to be. I like to be either at the beginning of the process, when the book is just a great idea in my head and my confidence level is high, or at the end of the process, when my editor and I have done the best we can and the manuscript's about to get sucked into the publishing machine and spit out as a book on the other side.

It's this middle stuff that's scary.

This next book is, once again, a weird mix of genres. It's memoir and nonfiction. It's about facing recent challenges on our farm, what to do about them, and why anyone should even care if a small farm bites the dust. So it's also about small farms and what they contribute to the world and about wool and sheep and about knitting a sock.

How do I know in what order to put things? Are the details boring? Will I be the only one who thinks the piece about me trying to catch a lamb in tight jeans is funny? Structure, structure, structure. Details, details. Is there an emotional journey? Why would anyone want to read this stuff?

The first draft was full of huge holes, but I wanted my editor's feedback. She was swamped, so it took her a month to respond. She loved Part 1, which was good. Parts 2 and 3 weren't even close to being what they needed to be (although she said this much more nicely than I've put it.) I went back to the drawing board, as they say.

This morning I sent the next draft off to my editor, which means I may not actually breathe until I hear from her. I know I'll continue inhaling and exhaling, but a huge part of me will not be paying any attention to my life until I know if the book is on track, or if it's in the wrong country entirely.

Many people think that once you've written a few books, it gets easier, that you relax because you know what you're doing. While I do have more overall confidence in myself, when I'm in the middle of this process my confidence hangs up a "Do Not Disturb" sign and refuses to come out and play.

My mouth's dry. My stomach's tight. Just sitting here writing about the scary stuff is scary stuff.

Time to take a walk, breathe deeply, and hug the puppy.

2009-05-17T10:33:00.000-05:00

The Gift of Inspiration

I was going through a box the other day and found something I'd thought I'd lost. Eons ago when I'd been working on what became my memoir, a friend had made a book 'cover' for me, complete with title, illustration, and my name, then framed it.

For years I kept the framed cover on my desk (a wooden door across two short file cabinets in one corner of an unfinished basement, surrounded by gray concrete and black spiders.) I didn't know if what I was writing would be published. I didn't know if what I was writing was even a book.

But in my confusion and uncertainty I'd often look over at the framed cover, drawing from it encouragement and confidence. Even though by then Liz had moved to another state and we'd lost touch, her gift continued to inspire me daily.

So here it is, but by showing it, now everyone will know my memoir's initial title.

Prepare thyself...

Yes, you read that correctly. "Searching for Placenta by Moonlight."

Catchy, eh?

I later changed it to "Dancing with Goats in the Moonlight."

Then it became "Sheep Sex and Other Natural Disasters." That was its title when Marlowe & Co purchased the manuscript, but the big wigs in New York were worried that 'sheep sex' would take certain minds in the wrong direction. Yikes.

So we changed the title to "Hit By a Farm: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Barn," which fit perfectly.

Sometimes the right title come to a writer in a blinding flash of inspiration. In my case it took about 7 years to get it right...

2009-04-28T19:06:00.000-05:00

Well, well, well.

Yes, it's great to be a finalist on any book award list, but I've also discovered it's also great to actually bring that award home.

Last Saturday I sat in a hotel ballroom with 700 people attending the 21st Annual Minnesota Book Awards. My book, The Compassionate Carnivore, was a finalist in the General Nonfiction category. After 48 books were submitted in this category, four were chosen as finalists, and I made that list, which was enough for me.

As the presenter for my category began speaking, I tried not to want the award too much. So when he read my name, I was stunned, but managed to get myself up onto the stage, dressed appropriately even. (Just before I'd left my house for the 70 mile drive, I'd noticed I was all dressed on top, but had nearly forgotten to change out of my black exercise pants with fushia and white strips up the side. Wouldn't have that made a lovely fashion statement.)

Who did I thank for the award? I thanked Melissa, of course, for getting me out onto the farm, which has---now that it's not trying kill me---provided me with a wealth of material on which to draw. I thanked my editor Renee Sedliar, who did such an amazing job of shepherding me through the complex process of writing this book that I sent her a real, honest-to-goodness shepherd's crook.

I added one more thank you then fled the stage.

Did I thank my dear friend Kathy Connelly, who was in the audience and has been incredibly supportive of anything I've done ever since the day we met in 1985? (which happened thanks to my puppy Tory racing out of the lake and jumping into poor Kathy's lap as she sat reading on the beach at a Wisconsin resort.)

I did not.

Did I thank my friend Pam Thiltgen-Hester, also in the audience, for suggesting to me, as we sat shoehorned into an office working as technical writers in 1986, that I should really consider giving creative writing a try?

I did not.

Did I thank Marion Dane Bauer, also in the audience, one of my first writing mentors in the early 1990s?

Nope.

Did I thank the Loft Literary Center for all its support, or the Friends of the Saint Paul Library for hosting the MN Book Awards?

Again, no.

In my own defense, I was nervous, a bright floodlight shone right in my eyes, and I was worried because the mike seemed too low. I just wanted to be out of there.

So I thanked Melissa, thanked Renee, then I---hold on to your hat--thanked my sheep.

Holy Stupid-Thing-To-Say, Batman.

Luckily ten years of Toastmasters taught me that the dumb things we say in public quickly fade, leaving nothing but a lovely blown glass award glowing on the living room table.

2009-03-23T11:31:00.000-05:00

New York, New York!

Last week I found out that my newest novel, A Pirate's Heart, has been shortlisted for a Lambda Literary Award in the Romance category. This is very cool, and as I've said in a previous post, making the shortlist is award enough for me.

The "Lammie" award ceremony is always held at the end of May in New York City. The end of May Melissa and I are knee-deep in baby lambs, with probably at least 10 more ewes left to give birth, so leaving isn't an option. My memoir, Hit By a Farm, was shortlisted in 2007, but there was no way I could make it.

But this year? After two-thirds of our flock flagrantly violated our strict rules about unauthorized sex, getting themselves pregnant three months before they were supposed to (and therefore giving birth three months early) we only have 12 pregnant ewes left. So this May is going to be very different than previous springs, and I realize this is my one chance, my brief window of opportunity, to visit New York and attend the awards ceremony.

I know another author who'll also be attending, and she's gotten us a free place to stay in someone's midtown Manhattan apartment. I have a great black velvet jacket with lace cut-out sleeves, but still haven't resolved the "too tight pants" issue. Perhaps a new pair is in my future, since I don't really feel like starving myself.

I don't care if I win---that's not the point of going. But if I do, I must try very hard to remember where I am---in NYC surrounded by urban people. If I forget, I fear I may get carried away in my acceptance speech, and thank my sheep for having unauthorized sex three months early...not something one usually hears at a swanky awards ceremony in NYC.

Guess I'd better write up a little speech just in case, and stick with it!

2009-02-24T19:06:00.000-06:00

Awards are Odd

Awards are odd things. It's great to be nominated, but when you know that only one book in each category is going to win, you often feel like the long shot.

So I've decided that being shortlisted is just as good as winning.

In 1995 my picture book, My Head is Full of Colors, made the short list for picture books. When the event organizers took a page from my book and dubbed the event "My Head is Full of Books," I nearly burst with pride. The awards event was modest, held in a college auditorium. My book didn't win, but I still felt really good. I'd made it that far, and that was enough.

Then, of course, my writing career was 'hit by a farm,' and there were no more books to be shortlisted.

Twelve years later, my 2007 picture book, The Perfect Nest, made the cut. By now, however, the event had grown into a fancy affair at a local hotel with catered desserts and black ties and silver dresses and huge TV screens showing the winners accepting at the podium. My book didn't win, but I still felt really good. I'd made it that far, and that was enough.

This year, The Compassionate Carnivore has been short-listed in the Nonfiction category. Out of 48 books in the category, judges chose 4. My competition is a book on ice fishing, one on potluck recipes, and one on a North Dakota humanitarian during WWII. All of the books look interesting, and we---the authors--- are all winners. We made the short list, which means someone found our work interesting and well-done and thoughtful.

I'll be at the awards this spring again---April 25--- dressed in my black slacks (if I lose the 10 pounds I've put on thanks to my hormone pills!) and this cool black velvet jacket with lacey cut-outs in the sleeves. And even if my name isn't called to come up and appear on those gigantic TV screens, that's just fine.

A writer doesn't have to be labeled 'the best' or 'the winner' to feel good about what she's done.

2009-02-04T11:49:00.000-06:00

Writers Steal

In an online discussion group of writers, one woman recently asked for advice about how to get unstuck when writing her novel. It's a great question, and everyone offered helpful advice. I thought and thought, and decided the best advice I could offer her was to steal.

Not stealing specific words, of course, 'cause that'd be plagiarism, but stealing ideas from life that have nothing to do with the book you're working on. It seemed odd advice, but it's worked for me.

Take my new novel, A Pirate's Heart, (Well, actually, don't take it...please buy it). It's about a librarian named Emma who's trying to track down a valuable treasure map supposedly left by a female pirate in 1715. I was struggling with Emma. I didn't really like her, which is never a good sign.

I'd sit at my computer day after day, totally uninspired by Emma. She was---and I will say this in the gentlest way possible--- mind-numbingly boring.

So one day I remembered that sometimes skimming through nonfiction books that have absolutely nothing to do with what I'm working on (no sailing books if the characters are going sailing, no French cookbooks if the characters are attempting a roux) can be incredibly helpful. Basically, you cruise for facts or bits of information that will stick to your characters and make them feel real.

I have many nonfiction books I've never read, so I began cruising the shelves. Found this book about vintage jigsaw puzzles that I'd bought for less than $1.00, thinking it might come in handy some day.

I started flipping through it and found this puzzle:

Egads! A female pirate. Then I found this puzzle:

Shiver me timbers---another female pirate. And then this one, called "Treasure Princess" by Edward Eggleston:

Suddenly I knew that Emma collected vintage jigsaw puzzles, a hobby that embarrassed her a little but that consumed her. Emma was suddenly more interesting, and I started liking her.

And I found a way to work that last puzzle above into the plot, with Emma using it to get valuable information she needed.

If I hadn't picked up that silly book on the history of jigsaw puzzles, I might still be at my computer, struggling to find a way to connect with poor Emma. So Moral of the Story is: Don't be afraid to look in really odd places for inspiration.

Hard to Write Under These Conditions

2009-01-18T18:22:00.000-06:00

Writers all have routines or activities that help them write. I find moving works best for me, but since it's been -20 and the road is covered in ice, walking on my treadmill is the only option. But I love it---it's 45 minutes of time just for myself, when I can work out specific manuscript problems or brainstorm new ideas.

This winter it hasn't worked out that way. Now that we have 3 dogs, it's different. The treadmill is by the back door, the one the dogs use to go outside for their business.

Here was my treadmill experience yesterday:

After I've been walking only 5 minutes, the Griffon puppy Molly runs over and stands by the door. "Hold it," I say. She gently nudges my leg with her nose. "Can't," says the nudge. So I pause the treadmill, get off, let Molly out. Back on the treadmill.

Five minutes later Molly scratches on the door to come in.

Five minutes later the Border Collie Robin shows up and barks at the back door. "Hold it," I say. He barks again, so I pause the treadmill, get off, let Robin and Molly out, since she never wants to miss anything. Back on the treadmill.

Five minutes later Molly scratches on the door to come in. Rob is deaf so doesn't hear me call, and doesn't see me waving. Back on the treadmill.

Five minutes later Robin barks to be let in. Off the treadmill.

Five minutes later the half Great Dane Sophie comes downstairs and begins dancing in front of me. "Hold it," I say. The dance only grows more frantic and convinces me the basement will soon be flooded if I don't heed the dance. Off the treadmill to let all three dogs out.

Five minutes later the Great Dane and Griff want back in. The Border Collie can't hear me call and doesn't see me. Back on the treadmill.

Five minutes later the Border Collie barks to come in.

With just 30 seconds left on my clock, Molly the Griff shows up and nudges my leg again, liking this new game of Inside and Outside. "Hold it," I say, and this time I make her.

I realize there are flapping dog doors one can install in their doors so the dogs can come and go as they wish, but can you imagine the size of the flapping door required for an 85-pound Dane mix? We might as well just leave the back door wide open.

So I'm having problems getting any writing done.

Not surprising, since this winter I'm not a writer, I'm a flippin' doorman.

Would Your Mom Do This?

2008-12-28T09:14:00.000-06:00

I've been blessed with family members who are very supportive of my writing. Most of them have been gentle with my fragile writer's ego, and have also been interested in reading everything I write. Not all writers are so lucky, I'm afraid.

I write children's, adult nonfiction, and romance/adventure novels. The main characters in the novels I've written so far are lesbians, but I don't call them lesbian novels because this implies the books are only for lesbians. Not so. My 75-year-old dad reads them. My mom reads them. My sister reads them. One aunt and uncle have read them. And another aunt wants to read them, but she's lost most of her vision through macular degeneration. So my mom and aunts decided my uncle, a nearly 80-year-old rancher with a Montana drawl, could read the novels out loud to my aunt.

I blanched at the thought. Hello, people! These are romance novels. There are sex scenes in them. How am I supposed to write future novels knowing my elderly uncle will be reading the sex scenes aloud to my aunt?

My mom came up with another solution. She'd read the books, recording them on cassette tapes. Okay, well. Instead of my 80-year-old uncle reading the sex scenes, my 74-year-old mom would. Lordy.

So I sent her the phonetic pronunciations of the Spanish words, and forgot about the project. Yet just before Christmas, she finished taping The Spanish Pearl. 328 pages fit onto 11 cassettes. She's sent them off to the aunt, and is now beginning the second book, The Crown of Valencia.

Sex scenes are very hard to write. If you use too many body parts (the left hand went here, etc) the scene sounds ridiculous. If you go on for pages and pages, people start rolling their eyes. If you don't include anything, people are disappointed. I aim for giving readers just enough to fuel their imagination, then I fade away and let readers fill in the rest of the scene themselves.

I admire my mom's pluck, and feel good that she enjoys my writing enough to do these homemade 'books on tape' for my aunt.

I don't think she was uncomfortable at all.

So when I write my next novel, and reach those sex scenes, I'll just trust my instincts and not worry about whether my mom will be uncomfortable reading them. I don't want her to think she's raised a prudish daughter!

Holding My Breath

2008-12-23T10:15:00.000-06:00

When an author's book comes out, there's this horrible period where you're holding your breath until you get the first review. Very few places review books anymore, and although one of my books was reviewed in the New York Times, none have been since.

But that's okay. For me, I'm just hoping someone liked it. I write adventure/romance novels published by a small publisher, and while they are reviewed by 'official' reviewers, one of the best ways to determine how a book is being received is on amazon.com.

So my latest novel, A Pirate's Heart, was shipped early December, and I've been holding my breath since then. Finally a review showed up on amazon.com, and the reviewer liked the book!

"Catherine Friend successfully weaves the 2 stories together and yet keeps the voices in the 2 stories distinct and separate. There are twists and turns throughout both stories. How she is able to keep them so clearly distinct and yet integrated is a skill that not many authors possess. ..This is a romance, an adventure, and a romp. It's tightly written and the author successfully leads the reader on a scavenger hunt. A word of caution; make sure that you set aside some time when you read this book. You won't want to put it down. Bravo, Catherine Friend!"

I don't know this person (so I made no arrangements to send her free stuff for the rest of her life!), but if every review after this one says the book stinks, at least I can cling to the fact that one person who liked the book.

I know this sounds pathetic, but writers work very hard on their books, and what other people say matters...up to a point. There are several amazon reviews of my nonfiction book, The Compassionate Carnivore, that aren't reviews at all, but angry vegans furious that I've put 'compassionate' and 'carnivore' together in the same phrase. When someone like this blogs that Catherine Friend can "eat s*** and die," I'm pretty sure this isn't a commentary on my writing skills, but on my dietary habits.

Reviews---bad and good---can't become too important to an author because a reviewer's comments often reflect more about that person's experiences than about the book.

Authors know what's being said about their books (thanks to Google Alert!) so if you have something negative to say about a book, be as constructive as you can. Recognize that writers' abilities flow up and down, that each of a writer's books may not get progressively better, but bounce around. We're doing our best out here, and some days that 'best' is better than others. We hold our breath for a few weeks, then forget about reviews and dive back into writing the next book.

The Secret to Picture Books

2008-12-15T20:21:00.001-06:00

If you are a writer, or want to be a writer, or are interested in writers, or read books (have I covered everyone?) here's a few thoughts on picture books.

Because these are short, maybe 1000 words or so, people tend to think that they're easier to write than books for adults.

I wish. I write children's books and adult books, and find the children's books much harder. A book for adults might run 300-400 pages. This gives the writer LOTS of elbow room to move around, explore themes, plots, etc.

But that 1000 word-picture book is tough. You need to capture a child's attention, tell a story, use great language, wrap it up with something humorous or touching, and do this in under 4 pages of double-spaced type.

Here's the secret to writing a successful a picture book: it must appeal to two very different audiences:

1) the kids! If you're going to pay $16-17 for a picture book, you want the child to like the book and ask to have it read over and over again.

2) the adults! If you're reading the book over and over again, it better have something in it for you, otherwise you'll go crazy. I spent my adolescence babysitting, and actually hid books that I disliked so the kids wouldn't bug me to read them.

Maybe that's why Dr. Suess was---and still is--so popular. The kids love the crazy words, and the adults love the crazy words.

So next time you read a picture book to a child, slow down and appreciate these little works of art. Some are better than others, but they were all likely challenging to write.

I Make Children Cry

2008-12-10T15:52:00.000-06:00

Writing for children is really hard work, much harder than you'd think. But I love doing it because it's so amazing to be part of a child's world, especially when that child is beginning to read.

I've written three beginning readers for Candlewick's Brand New Reader series--Silly Ruby, Funny Ruby, and Eddie the Racoon. The company did a great job of designing books that will ensure success for 5- and 6-year-olds just learning to read. The illustrations are wonderful, and each little book is only 8 sentences long. (You'd be surprised how hard I had to work to get those 8 sentences just right.)

Earlier this year I learned that one of my beginning readers, Eddie the Racoon, was the first book a young Elise read on her own. Her mom captured the event on video and posted it to her blog.

So I thought I'd share Elise's experience with Eddie the Racoon...all 8 sentences of it. Just a warning---things get a little rocky at sentence #7, but Elise and Mom hang in there and the video has a happy ending....although I did make her cry...

http://steingrueblwe.blogspot.com/2008/06/we-have-reader.html

The Inkslinger

2008-12-09T22:03:00.000-06:00

Skim through a Webster's Thesaurus and you'll find words you already know. Dive into a Roget's, however, and you'll come up with an astonishing array of archaic words. Inkslinger is one of those words you'll find for 'writer.'

I love that word. It's western, it's a gunslinger with a pen, and I want it to be me. As this photo shows, I've always wanted to be a cowgirl.

When I was twelve, a terrifying ride on a runaway horse named Blaze through a Montana pasture infested with rusty implements cured me of that silly dream. Still, 'Inkslinger' makes me feel like a bold, rash, dangerous writer.

Yeah, right.

But ya gotta name your blog, so here we are. Why I'm taking on a second blog escapes me, but there are just times when talking about writing and books just doesn't seem to fit on my other blog, Farm Tales, which is pretty much all animals, all the time.

This blog will be word/idea/story based. And shocking as it may seem, it won't all be about me. It's about what it's like to be a writer, an author, and a blogger. It's about all the wonderful things that happen when you put your life out there for others to connect with. It's about using stories to communicate, which is something everyone, not just writers, does every single day.