Annick’s fall 2011 catalogue is out, so if you’d like a first-hand view of the work I’ve been wimpering blogging about for the past six months, you can check out the preview of 50 Underwear Questions and The Lowdown on Denim.
Non-fiction has its own distinct writing process. There’s that stellar outline, for one. And the signed contract — always a bonus. But there are other differences as well. Here’s what I’ve come up with for the basic cycle:
1. Research until my brain falls apart and I have masses of mainly unorganized information.
2. Panic, because nothing is written.
3. Begin writing.
4. Panic, because I don’t have enough research.
5. Actually organize research.
6. Write more.
7. Research more.
8. Write more.
9. Panic, because research-to-page transition has made everything excruciatingly boring.
10. Unborify.
It’s possible my projects would go more quickly if I skipped stages 2, 4, and 9. I’ll have to experiment…
Guess what?!? One of my favourite authors, Jacqueline Pearce, has stopped by in the midst of a blog tour to promote her new chapter book, Mystery of the Missing Luck.
You’ll see below that Jacquie wonders why she chose to talk about food on my blog. Well, she’s obviously psychic and can tell that I love Asian bakeries and basically lived off that soft, sweet, white bread for three entire weeks on an exchange trip to Tokyo. (My 15-year-old self did not exactly embrace new cultural experiences.)
Enough about me. Here’s a guest post from Jacquie! (And hey, don’t be shy about leaving a comment and entering Jacquie’s contest. The more comments, the more hospitable I seem!)
Thanks for having me, Tanya! I’m not sure why I felt compelled to talk about the food link to my new story on your blog (perhaps it’s the image of peas, or the homey feel), but here goes…
I love old-fashioned bakeries. When I was a kid, my best friend and I used to walk downtown every Saturday to buy craft supplies and stop at our favourite bakery. It was one of those traditional old bakeries — family-owned, on a street of independent shops, pastries and cookies in the window, bell that jingled when you opened the door. The owner, Mr. Janssen-Steenberg, used to always save me the biggest, best piece of apple strudel (or so he claimed). The bakery in my new chapter book, Mystery of the Missing Luck, is that kind of bakery, but with a slight twist: the baked goods are Japanese.
Bread was actually brought to Japan in the 19th century from Portugal. The Japanese word for bun, “pan,” is from the Portuguese word. Japanese bakers, however, revised the bread recipe to suit Japanese tastes, using a traditional liquid yeast (related to sake-making, I think) and adding fillings such as red bean paste and green tea flavoured cream. Sara, the main character in my story, loves the an-pan (bun filled with red bean paste) her grandmother makes at the bakery. The first time I tasted something made with red bean paste in Japan, I didn’t like it that much, but I’ve developed a taste for it since. And who can resist a bun that has a cartoon character named after it? Anpan Man, the hero with a bun for a head, has been popular in Japan since 1968.
In the previous stop on my blog tour I talked a bit about how I came to write the book, and promised to reveal why someone once graffitied the words “there is no pie in Toronto” on the road in front of my house. It really has nothing to do with my new book, except that by now you may have gathered that I have a sweet tooth, and enjoyed visiting bakeries as part of the research for my story. In my younger years, I developed a reputation for a love of baked goods — particularly pie. The morning I left Vancouver Island to attend university in Toronto, the mysterious “no pie” goodbye was scrawled on the road (luckily, the warning didn’t prove to be accurate). My reputation now is more as a chocolate aficionado, but that’s another story.
Please leave a comment below for a chance to win a copy of Mystery of the Missing Luck. For some background on the “lucky cat” component of the story, check out my post on the blog of author kc dyer and the Lucky Cat contest on my own blog.
Jacquie
It’s snowing as I write this. Seriously? Snow?
Okay, now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, here’s what I wanted to talk about today: me! 50 Burning Questions has been shortlisted for the Science in Society Journalism Awards.
Wow. I just found out I was a science writer earlier this year, when I was invited to a science writer’s conference. Now it turns out I’m a journalist, too. My resume’s getting better by the minute. Thanks, Science Writers’ Association!
Not bad for one day. Tomorrow I tackle reviewing [insert scary music here] the school presentation.
We took a little spring break holiday last week.
We went to Point No Point, north of Sooke, and it was absolutely lovely. There was a hot tub, a beach bonfire, and s’mores. What more could you ask? If you look very closely at this photo, you can even see a patch of blue sky.
Now that we’re home, though, the work begins. I have a sample chapter due next week, along with a school presentation to give. Onwards!
My second draft is off into the hands of my writing group. The ending still sucketh, but the group tends to be a forgiving (and helpful) bunch. I’m hoping someone will have a vision of the perfect final scene. And share it. And maybe just write the darned thing.
In non-fiction news, my impromptu proposal is accepted, and I’m at work on the first chapter already, in preparation for a meeting with the illustrator. The illustrator actually lives in Vancouver and I get to meet him in person (!!), which will be a strange and unusual experience after working with the brilliant Ross from New Zealand (the 50 Questions series) and the amazing Clayton from the Far East (The Lowdown on Denim).
Speaking of Denim…
The cover, possibly my favourite cover of all time, has been conservative-ized after objections from the U.S. sales force. I was quite devastated, initially, having fallen in love with the leg hair and all. But, Clayton managed something just as fun, without any hint of flashing.
This is one of the interesting things about children’s books: you have to appeal to the readers AND remember the 70-year-old aunts who might be holding the credit card.
Aha! This is the answer. I could DEFINITELY do the perfect rewrite from here.
Now… if only they had on-site child care.
(Actually, this reminds me a little of my elementary school years in Crawford Bay. My neighbours had an octagonal meditation room in their basement, so their eight children could meditate independently.)
Yup, I could work on all those revisions I mentioned Monday. Or, I could do laundry, sweep the stairs (because who can work when the stairs are dirty?), make another cup of coffee, criticize other people’s endings (much more fun), and surf realty porn.
That last is particularly satisfying. For example, just look at this cottage on Galiano Island:
I bet I could do a great revision if I had my own writer’s retreat.
After seeing this news clip, I took down my post about winning Stephen Harper’s favour by hosting a literacy celebration in his children’s honour. I mean, how can you even attempt friendship with someone who renames the country’s government in his own image?
If this is an arranged marriage, I’m afraid we’re going to have to run away from home and sell ourselves on the streets.