It's Not Goodbye...

I've brought you some pictures. Pictures of Aurora County: the real Aurora County, Mississippi, which is Jasper County, Mississippi, where my father was born and grew up, and where my stories take place. This is Louin, Mississippi, the real Halleluia of LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER and THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS; this is Comfort's Snapfinger, Mississippi. Look closely and you'll see my grandmother's house (not the pink one) -- she's the real Miss Eula -- and the path that Ruby takes from the house to town.


I grew up summers here. These pictures were taken in July. Louin was a thriving town in the Thirties before the Depression hit. It was a tiny town like Halleluia when I was a kid. Today it's... older. More tired. But I still love it.



It's almost midnight. Almost 2008. I'm hanging on to the last hour and forty-nine minutes of 2007. It's hard to let go.


And it was a hard year. Well... maybe hard isn't the word. A challenging year. But what year isn't? As Uncle Edisto says in EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS, "Open your arms to life! Let it strut into your heart in all its messy glory!" yes, yes, yes.

Let's see, messy glory: I lost one editor this year, and then another. But I watched THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS come into the world with lots of joyful noise, and I ran right behind it, on tour... everywhere, it seemed, for so long! It was a pleasure and a pain, and a complete joy.


I met new friends. I visited with Eudora Welty and William Faulkner, read ALL-STARS on Thacker Mountain Radio, drove through the dark night through the Mississippi Delta with Jim Allen, doggedly planted my gardens through the long, dry summer in Atlanta, got married in July to a long-time love, paid for my daughter's last year in college, saw my grandson for the first time in five years, made quilts for my grandgirls, visited kin, welcomed family, watched the rain fall through Christmas week in Atlanta, and criss-crossed the country, teaching.

Not in that order. It's late... stream of consciousness is taking over. My husband is gigging on New Year's Eve, of course. He and his bandmates are jazzing the year in for party-goers somewhere here in Atlanta. I'm going to get a long, hot bath now. I have played in my closet for the past two days -- with all the traveling I did this year, I scarcely got unpacked before I packed again, and I ended up just throwing everything in the closet at some point. I bought a dresser this summer, but I never had the time to fill it. So it felt so good, as one year was ending and another beginning, to gather my clothes -- every piece of clothing I own -- and sort them, wash them, dry them, fold them, hang them, make a pile for Goodwill, and make a pile for IRONING, can you believe it?

I kept thinking of my mother as I buttoned all the buttons on each shirt I hung, just the way she taught me to (and just the way I rarely do), as I folded each blouse just-so, a third this way, a third that way, now fold in half and give it a pat... and I found myself remembering how often I would come home at the end of a school day and see my mother ironing in the family room, watching ANOTHER WORLD. She ironed everything and taught me how to iron as well -- collars and sleeves and pillowcases and... well, I got a hankering to iron; I miss my mother.

So I ordered my drawers and closets, and then tackled the mountain of paper in my office -- another catastrophe of the tour. I found things in that mountain I'd forgotten I had... things I didn't know I had. If you haven't heard from me and have expected to... well... you will. I found it. Them.

Once I had the office ordered, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup for supper. Ate it on a tray with a tall glass of cold milk and watched an old movie (TOP HAT, Walter) and smiled. Sighed. I never eat grilled cheese sandwiches anymore. Comfort food. Good. Muenster cheese is the secret. Lots of muenster cheese. Sssssh.....

It's so blissfully quiet here tonight. Not at all like the raucous, lovely years when I had four kids at home and made egg rolls for an army on New Year's Eve, played charades with the neighbors' families, and went outside at midnight with the kids to bang wooden spoons on pots. No, not like that anymore. Everyone is grown up. Everyone is away. Everyone is finding his or her life. And so am I. It is good.


It's a good year, when one delights in what is joyful and grows, even Grinch-like, through challenges. It has been a good year; and it's hard to let a good year go.

It's hard to let you go, too. You've stuck with me through thick and thin this year, on the '07 Book Tour for ALL-STARS; I have so appreciated your good company. So I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm going to migrate you over to One Pomegranate, if you are already a subscriber to the '07 Tour Blog. If you are already subbed to One Pomegranate, you need do nothing -- you're already there. If you are a subscriber to the Tour Journal and have not subbed to OP, you will be receiving an email in the next couple of days from OP, asking you to confirm your subscription to OP -- One Pomegranate.

If you don't want to be subbed to OP, do nothing, and you won't receive further emails. If you do want to sub to OP, click on the link provided in the email, and that's it. Easy peasy. From then on, you'll receive your blog posts from me as One Pomegranate. And you won't hurt my feelin's if you've had enough and need a rest. Come back and see us now and again. We'll keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge for you. We'll keep the front room picked up ----------------------------------------------

You don't need to unsub from the '07 Tour Blog. This blog will remain active and online, although I won't be posting here, as the '07 Book Tour is officially and completely and terrifically over. What a run we had with ALL-STARS -- thank you so much, so very much, every one of you: booksellers, readers, teachers, students, librarians, parents, kids, drivers (Hey, Jim Allen! Hey, Carol!), friends and family, and a Grand Slam thank you to Harcourt Children's Books, especially everyone in marketing who put together such a fabulous tour and worked so darn hard to make sure it came together so splendidly. My baseball cap is off to you, gods and goddesses, all.

You can scroll down and read specifically about each bookstore, each bookseller, each school, each town, each conference, each MEAL I ate, just about... happy sigh, I'm so glad I kept an accounting. I will not forget you. And you will not be allowed to forget me! I will keep coming back, hoping you will welcome me back into your lives, bookstores, schools, libraries, homes, with the next book, the next story, the next time.

You were more than awesome. Meeting you all this year was like playing in Dodger Stadium with Sandy Koufax, listening to Vin Scully announce the play-by-play, sitting in the stands under the lights during a night game, watching the ballet of a perfect game.

It was a symphony true.

Peace.

Love.

Is the Tour Over?

Good question from a California reader.
Answer: yes and no.

The official, Harcourt-sponsored, three-week scamper through the Carolinas, Mississippi, and up/down the west coast is done. Now we're finishing up with some conferences -- Southern Festival of Books tomorrow and Texas Book Festival in November. THEN the tour is completely over.

Then I need to decide if I'm going to keep blogging. I'm ambivalent about it. I had intended to blog only the tour, as I did in 2005 when I kept a tour journal that so many of you read during the LITTLE BIRD tour, and I have to admit to a certain fascination with being able to share stories in this way. I also have to admit that I've had my moments, sitting in a hotel room at 4am, trying to upload photos and talk about the day before, when I've thought "who cares?" and "what difference does it make?" and "it's so nekkid-making!" and more... so I want to hear from you. Please.

What do you think? My biggest concern, when Harcourt approached me about blogging this AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS tour was that it would seem self-serving -- so I wanted to make sure I wrote about what really interested me, which is... you. I have come to love gathering your stories (I often say I'm a story-junkie) and finding ways to write about them and share them visually... and now that it doesn't take me two hours to put together a blog entry, I'm feeling more kindly toward blogging. Still, I hesitate.

I've had lots of mail, lots of opinionated responses to my posts (most of them directly to my email inbox that's listed on my website... hmmmm....), so I ask you: do you have opinions about this blogging phenomenon in general? In particular? What do you think? I'm torn.

While I'm mulling this over, here are some photos from Tuesday's school visit in Oregon, Wisconsin -- Rome Corners Intermediate School. We had such a good day together. Librarian Chris Antonuzzo and I had been planning this day for over a year.

Chris wanted to keep her groups small so we'd have an intimate sharing time, and she wanted to target the fifth grade, so we did. I saw all fifth graders on Tuesday. Here is Chris, teacher Sindhu Thoppil, and her student Ed, who wanted to know "what's with the names in your books?" I answered by singing "God Rest Ye MERRY, Gentlemen, let nothing you DISMAY... oh, TIDINGS of COMFORT and JOY!"

Here are (not in order) Hunter, Collin, McKenzie, Alex, Sean, Wilhelm, and Claire, students in Mrs. Duvick's study hall who came to see me again at the end of the day. Speaking of names, I have a story to tell you about Wilhelm, who is second to last on the right. Doesn't his face tell you everything about what a together guy he is? I was so taken with his use of language and his presence when I spoke with him. When I signed his book, he told me he prefered "Wilhelm," not "Wil," and he told me something that, if I put it in a book, folks would say I was over the top with my names (as they have said before), but here is a true story:

Wilhelm's name is Wilhelm Rhinehard. One of his two brothers is Rhinehard Kaiser. The other is Kaiser Wilhelm. I am not making this up. "My mother said that, once she came full circle with our names, she stopped having children!" I am stealing this concept immediately. I loved meeting you, Wilhelm... loved meeting all students and teachers at Rome Corners. Thanks, Chris, for coordinating a great day.
Here's the library staff: Heather ("I'm the IT nerd!") with the beautiful braids (her nickname is "Alice" and you can see why), moi (Staff for a Day!), Kathy Piper, and Chris.

Sheri Sinykin was my ride to the airport Tuesday. Sheri is a fellow author and Vermont College alum whose new book, GIVING UP THE GHOST is just published by Peachtree. Yay, Sheri! Sheri and I were in the same Jan.2003 graduating class. Hello, Voice!

We had a good catch-up at the Madison airport, just before I got on a plane and sat there for three hours. On the runway. Ground stop at O'Hare, dontcha know. I missed my connecting flight (of course) and managed by a hair to catch the last flight to Atlanta that evening. The last leg was actually lovely -- no one next to me in a three-seat row, and soft darkness everywhere. Too bad I don't sleep on planes. But I did manage to shut my eyes and stop thinking for a while... I was going home.

Thinking, thinking, thinking... always thinking, on the road, always "on" -- even when eating lunch, as you're conversing with strangers who are quickly becoming friends, etc -- and always organizing the mind, the suitcase, and the energy for the next-thing, the next-thing... next-thing. This is the craziness of fall and spring travel to schools, conferences, libraries, etc... but all part of the making-a-living package for this writer, and it's all good work. If you've had me visit your school or conference, you'll know that I love being there. I love the partnership we form, I love the teaching, I love the sharing, and I love the people I meet -- it's such a privilege to spend time with readers in a school setting, at a conference, in a library... it enriches my life and my writing.

But I also love being home. Sometime I'd like to write about this balance (or lack thereof) and this way of making a living and hear some discussion... it's a perennial topic for writers when we get together.

Another perennial topic: How do we do this good work and also write the next book? How do we balance it all? Dunno, I'm still trying to do that. I've come up with various solutions through the years, but still haven't hit on what's ideal.

At home, I've structured a simple life, and I especially miss it this time of year. I love the way the light slants in autumn, I love the crisp in the air. My garden is weedy, and my office is dusty. My bed misses me. So does my husband. He takes good care of me when I arrive home yet-again.

I spent yesterday running errands, answering mail, and recovering, and today I fly to Nashville. Dinner with friends tonight -- and more Vermont connections. School visit tomorrow. Southern Festival of Books on Saturday. Then home again. And it will all be good. But as my friend Jane Kurtz has said to me many times, "the good is the enemy of the best." Hmmm.... must think more on that one. Don't you have that good/best conundrum to contend with in some part of your life? In many parts of your life? I know you do.

Here we go -- next-thing, next-thing, next-thing.... I hope one of those next things is writing the next book. I'm sure my editor hopes so, too.

Midwest Beauty, Bookselling, and Bummer

Put the bummer right in the beginning. Four hours at O'Hare last night (which is when I started this entry, hence the Sunday date). I could have driven to Madison, Wisconsin. But that's not why I've got a picture of Hell's Kitchen here. This is a good Hell. It's where I ate breakfast yesterday morning in Minneapolis (Hell's Kitchen motto: "Damn Good Food" -- they were right). I had the crab cake with poached eggs and Paul had the Huevos Rancheros. The hot sauce on the table was called "Bottled Hell." The decor was hip and funky and the line was out the door. Good thing we had reservations.
It's good to walk a city with someone who knows it. Paul Von Drasek grew up here. His dad was a doctor in a small nearby town. Paul is the oldest of four boys. "We couldn't get away with anything," he said, "because my dad was the town doctor and everybody knew him!"

Paul knows Minneapolis. "I think this is Loring Park," he says. It is.

Fall is everywhere.



It's easy to forget there's a booksellers' convention going on just blocks away.


Somewhere over there:











After a too-brief peek into the sculpture garden at the Walker Art Center, we take ourselves back to the convention center where The Moveable Feast of Authors is about to take place.

Booksellers stay put at round tables during lunch. Authors.... move. Every ten or fifteen minutes. The first time I participated in a Moveable Feast, I was so shy and so new to publishing -- everything was scary. It was 2002 in Fort Lauderdale during a SEBA (Southern Booksellers) conference. I sat in a room full of authors, listening to Executive Director Wanda Jewell explain how each of us would move from table to table during the evening's meal, meeting upward of forty new people in under two hours, and I said (under my breath, I thought), "Oh, that's awful!" and Wanda swiveled in my direction like a machine, clapped her hands once with command, pointed to me, and barked, "NO IT'S NOT. YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE IT."

And I did. It's a joyous, fast-paced affair, sort of like speed dating. Here in the Midwest, Susan Walker is executive director of MBA and she pairs two authors at each table, so I have a partner each time and not only meet booksellers, I meet a different author each time I move and learn about his/her new book. Bliss.

This is Joyce Sidman with her new Houghton book, THIS IS JUST TO SAY: Poems about Apology and Forgiveness. It's such a fabulous book. The premise alone is fantastic; the poems themselves are little jewels. The art is just-right. The... well, you'll have to see for yourself.

I remember discovering Joyce's SONG OF THE WATER BOATMAN AND OTHER POND POEMS two years ago on book tour with LITTLE BIRD. Yvonne Rogers at Lemuria hand sold it to me. I am still madly in love with that book. It won a Caldecott honor for Beckie Prange. I want to shower honors on Joyce's poetry.
One last photo. These are brand-spanking-new booksellers. In a day when independent bookstores face such difficult challenges in the marketplace, along come entrepreneurs who plunge right in. Let's all go buy books from Novel Ideas in Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin and Cate's Books and Stuff in Louisiana, Missouri.

Minneapolis: My work here is done. O'Hare awaits, and you know that story. I have had bad airport luck this season; some seasons are like that. But finally, late last night, I got to Madison, Wisconsin where, smiling at the bottom of the escalator and holding her copy of LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER, was Chris Antonuzzo, librarian at Rome Corners Intermediate School in Oregon, Wisconsin. I'll be spending the day with her fifth graders on Tuesday.

Today, Monday, I'll be in the School District of Belleville. I want to tell you all about these schools, and I want to talk about school visits -- I Have Opinions. First I'll get myself ready and out the door. My throat is sore. That joyous Moveable Feast involves much shouting in a room with lots of noise. I've got my water and Ricola with me today. No airports, thank goodness. I can't believe that I return to O'Hare tomorrow, however. May the travel gods be peaceful. Today, may the school-visit gods smile.

It's a Warm Day in Lake Wobegon

I haven't seen a lake (or the river). Haven't spied any Norwegian bachelor farmers or devout Lutheran ministers, but I have heard talk about Garrison Keillor, Minneapolis's favorite son. At the MBA cocktail party last night, Patricia Hampl told me that Keillor worked through ten years of relative anonymity with what would become "A Prairie Home Companion." Hampl described her own career as long and quiet. She's being very modest. I am anxious to read her new book, THE FLORIST'S DAUGHTER.
National Accounts Manager Ellen Sugg is taking good care of Harcourt books (and me) at the Midwest Booksellers show. Here she is with Paul Von Drasek, Executive Director of Sales at Harcourt.





And this is Heather Strand from Buffalo Books in Buffalo, Minnesota. This picture was in my email inbox this morning along with a message from Paul's Blackberry: "Heather Strand stopped by hoping to see you. Your biggest fan and is a teacher reading your book to her class. I told her about your blog." Sorry I missed you, Heather; thanks so much for reading ALL-STARS to your students and for all the work you do at Buffalo Books.

Paul works in NYC but grew up in the Minneapolis area, so this is a coming home for him. For me, too. I have never been to Minneapolis, but being with friends is a coming home. It's always good to see Paul, and there will more good soon, as I meet up with friend Marion Dane Bauer. I get to see more than the city when Marion picks me up -- I even get to see DIRT. We drive past a construction site with mounds of black dirt -- I see what those Norwegian bachelor farmers fell in love with now. This is the blackest soil I've ever seen -- wish I had a picture to show you. I've gotten used to the red clay soil of Georgia (well, I haven't gotten used to it, but I'm beginning to accept it).

Marion and I grab a precious hour or two together on a beautiful fall day (these were the leaves we walked through on our walk) before we're back at the convention center for Marion to sign BABY BEAR DISCOVERS THE WORLD, a beautiful new 64-page picture book published by Adventure Press with amazing photographs by Stan Tekiela.

Then Marion and I excuse ourselves from the cocktail party so we can attend the orchestra! What a treat on the road. What a treat anytime. I'm thrilled that Marion has two tickets to the Minnesota Orchestra's season preview concert and I'm touched and delighted she would invite me to come with her. I was so tired by the time I got here -- remember, the morning started with a power outage at 5am while I was in the shower at home in Atlanta, then hours of flight delays getting to Minneapolis, yadda yadda, but I have to say, when I sank into my seat in Orchestra Hall and the lights came up... I was totally blown over.

Copland, Grieg, Brahms, Bach, Mozart Rimsky-Korsakov, and more -- it was a feast for the senses. The theatre was packed -- 2000 strong. And my soul was fed. I remember the very day I discovered classical music. I was sitting in my fourth-grade classroom in Camp Springs, Maryland when a new music teacher, Miss Farrell, wheeled her music cart into the room, put a record on the record player, and played "In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Edvard Grieg from his "Peer Gynt Suite." Be still my heart. Eugene Ormandy was the conductor. For Christmas that year I asked for a record by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

Ormandy was the conductor of the Minnesota Orchestra before he made his way to Philadelphia. Now, Osmo Vanska conducts -- just like this. The orchestra publicity folks call it "Osmosis." Boy, is it. He was amazing, his orchestra is amazing, and what a way to end a night in Minneapolis. This morning I meet Paul for breakfast ("Minnesota's a great place," he says. I want to hear more.) and then attend The Moveable Feast of Authors at noon, then scoot myself to the airport in order to fly to Chicago (backwards on the map), then to Madison, Wisconsin, where I'll be in schools on Monday and Tuesday. I'm hoping for more fall beauty. I've missed it in Atlanta. We have a fall, but not that luscious, gorgeous, beauteous fall we had in Maryland in the years I lived there. When I think Wisconsin, I think cheese and Land O' Lakes. That's as much as my before-coffee mind will let me think. I know there's more. Can't wait to see it.

Hurry up and Wait

I'm on the way to Minneapolis. I'm waiting. In the airport. At O'Hare. I got up at 5am in order to catch a 7:50am flight out of Atlanta. It is still dark at 5am. I turned on the coffee pot, clicked on the bathroom light, got in the shower, began to wash my hair, and --fitz! -- the electricity went off. Don't try to imagine what it was like, dripping wet, to search for flashlights, candles, matches, and a towel, not in that order. I had laid out my clothes the night before so I could easily pack this morning... now I would pack by candlelight and hope not to leave anything behind that I just can't see. When the lights came on an hour later, the first thing I said to Jim was, "Turn on the coffee!"

Jim laughed. "You're an addict!" I am. There are worse addictions.

Speaking of seeing, I worked in a long-overdue eye exam this week while I was home, and ordered new contacts (you'll remember I lost a contact in the bowels of Allyn Johnston's Honda while I was on tour in California) and a new pair of glasses. They're red. Next week I'll be back in the seeing-well business.

Right now I'm in the airport-waiting business. Came home from the fabulous SIBA to the news that my college-age daughter's old laptop -- which we have been bandaiding together for years -- is finally most sincerely dead. She has three papers due, midterms looming, and the campus library hours have been cut back severely (long story). Boyfriend Richard showed up from Florida (not my boyfriend; Hannah's). Poison pen letters arrived -- more on this one day, too... they took the wind out of my sails, and I was exhausted anyway, so this gave me a chance to take to my bed with even more reason, which I did.
Books continued to arrive, which got me out of bed, where I joined in the search for a new laptop. Hannah wants an iMac. We have to win the lottery first. And, since she's paying for her laptop, she grabbed my offer to buy myself a new laptop and give Hannah my old one, which works Very Well, although the new one has twice as much storage space and speed, and now that I'm BLOGGING.... But what I didn't understand was that new computers now have..... VISTA. Windows Vista. Ohmygolly Uncle Jim-Bob, WHAT were they thinking?

Nothing works with VISTA, particularly not my ancient, beloved email program, Eudora. I've made some progress in getting it all straightened out ("Thank you, Richard; let's all go to dinner."), but I have a feeling I've got a long way to go. If any of you have suggestions for dealing with VISTA, please let me know! (No fair saying "take the laptop back.") Used to be, Vista was a program much like the Peace Corps, only in this country. When I was a teenager, I wanted to join Vista before I found myself in a surprisingly different line of work. I loved the idea of that Vista. This VISTA... pah.

So. It has been an expensive week. But hey. I was home. Home between gigs. Four days on the road coming up, then one day home, then three days out again.

Oh, and one last thing, while it's all about memememe: The Listening Library audio book of ALL-STARS is here, and you must must must go hear just a snippet of Kate Jackson's wonderful, heartfelt reading of this book. Kate Jackson. Yes, that Kate Jackson, formerly of Charlie's Angels, formerly of Birmingham, Alabama, where she was born... her southern drawl and slightly salty/scritchy/silly/sensitive voice is perfect for ALL-STARS. You can have a listen here. And you can read the PW starred audio review here. Way to go, Miss Kate. Thank you so much for such a fabulous rendition of ALL-STARS.

My waiting time is over -- United is calling my flight to Minneapolis. Midwest Booksellers, here I come, complete with my old glasses, my new laptop with VISTA (booooo!) and my hair washed by candlelight. Look out.

Coming Home

Thanks for hanging around while I've been gulping sleep and getting used to the 3-hour time change. I've moved slowly this week. I've opened mail and read some of it. I've paid the bills. I've reconnected with family. I've eaten lots of spinach. Saturday I went to the SIBA conference -- the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance.

I love SIBA (which used to be SEBA, and then Southern and Southeastern booksellers got together and merged and created SIBA). It's always a great show. Even the 2001 show, just after 9/11, although lower in attendance, understandably, was such a heartfelt show. Thank you, Wanda Jewell, for all you do for southern booksellers and storytellers. I had such a good time.

I was on a panel with some great spirits: Alan Gratz, Gail Giles, and Isabel Gomez-Bassols. Between us we'd written such very different books and I wondered how moderator Betty Jo Harris (from Windows, A Bookshop in Monroe, LA) was going to bring us together.


Betty Jo had done her homework -- she'd read all four books and could cogently talk about them. She took questions from the audience. This is what the audience looked like to most people.



This is what y'all looked like to me:

Kidding, kidding, I could see you just fine. I'm not sure how cogent *I* was, however. Still, I loved meeting booksellers, especially at the signing afterwards, loved hanging with Alan and getting to know him better... I'll never forget the absolute horror I felt when I began reading chapter one of SAMURAI SHORTSTOP and realized that a ritual suicide was about to take place -- be still my heart. I've now got a copy of Alan's new SOMETHING ROTTEN and can't wait to read it.

On the exhibit floor I also snagged a galley of fellow Harcourt author John C. Waugh's new book: ONE MAN GREAT ENOUGH: ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S ROAD TO CIVIL WAR. I've been hooked on Jack's scholarship and writing ever since I met him at SEBA in Ft. Lauderdale in 2002 and read his book about Sara and Richard Pryor, SURVIVING THE CONFEDERACY. Good book. Good writer.

Harcourt has many good books/good writers publishing this season. At ALA in D.C., Harcourt's Geoff Hughes gave me Patricia Hampl's new memoir, THE FLORIST'S DAUGHTER, which I'm eager to jump into. In children's/ya, we have such a rich crop this season! I just opened a box of books I picked out when I was at Harcourt's offices in San Diego last week: Linda Urban's A CROOKED KIND OF PERFECT, Gennifer Choldenko's IF A TREE FALLS AT LUNCH PERIOD, K.L. Going's THE GARDEN OF EVE -- I am in such good company this season.

Also picked out for the 7-year-old (and me) the new Chet Gecko mystery by Bruce Hale, HISS ME DEADLY, and the picture books PSSST! by Adam Rex, WHAT WILL FAT CAT SIT ON? by Jan Thomas, and the surreal, gorgeous WHERE THE GIANT SLEEPS by Mem Fox and Vladimir Radunsky. And just as I was leaving the office last week, Morgan Gould gifted me with the EUDORA WELTY biography by Suzanne Marrs, which I have checked out of the library so many times... now I have my own copy, in honor of the dog, Eudora Welty, in THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS.

I'm going to go back and paste links and put labels on posts before I head for Minneapolis on Saturday. I'm curious to compare these different regional booksellers conferences. I've now been to PNBA and SIBA. What's UMBA going to be like (MBA now, Midwest Booksellers Association). I'm doing the Moveable Feast at MBA and I'm going to spend some time with good friend and mentor, Marion Dane Bauer, who has a new book out this season that I hope to snag at MBA: KILLING MISS KITTY AND OTHER SINS. Ha!
I love connecting with good friends on the road. Here's Elisabeth Grant-Gibson of Windows, A Bookshop in Monroe, Louisiana. She's promoting Windows at SIBA (and ALL-STARS -- love the hat), while she also drums up advertising support for the wonderful BOOK REPORT: A scintillating once-a-week, one-hour radio magazine about books, originating live from the KMLB studios in Monroe. Obviously, our photographer, Will Clarke (check out his website for more about THE BOOK REPORT and his books), thought the banner was more important than we were! He's right.

I've kept you long enough. I've been researching all summer and I'm about to plunge into writing a trilogy of novels I've just sold to Harcourt, and I want to tell you all about them. Who grew up in the Sixties? I did. I'm going to be writing all about it in what we're calling THE SIXTIES TRILOGY: THREE NOVELS OF THE 1960s FOR YOUNG READERS. I'll have questions for you and I'll chronicle my writing process here as I travel through the fall to schools and conferences, teaching writing workshops and talking about ALL-STARS, yes, and RUBY and LITTLE BIRD, and FREEDOM SUMMER, but mostly talking about our collective and individual stories and how we find them and tell them. See you on the road.

Family is a Circle of Friends who Love You

I returned home to books arriving from my independent bookstores. Look! TurnRow, the little indie that could, nestled deep in the Mississippi Delta, packages books in cotton! Quail Ridge in Raleigh uses brown paper and also includes a BookSense flier -- THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS is a BookSense Fall Pick -- fabulous.

Boxes will continue to arrive and I will set-to with the task of catching up on all that needs attention now that I'm home. ALL-STARS is launched into the world -- I still have a couple of conferences to attend, but overall, the book is sailing forth on its own now, riding off in the hands of librarians, booksellers, and teachers, finding its way to children and adults everywhere. It is making that full circle that I long for as a storyteller, that response after the call. "Music is dialogical," says my musician husband Jim. "It requires a listener in order to be complete." Story is the same way. It requires a listener, a reader.

I'm going to finish a draft of the new book this fall. I'll chronicle some of that process here, and I'll write about fall travels to schools and conferences. I'll write about teaching, too. I've been teaching writing for many years and I Have Opinions. I'd love to hear yours.

I came home to friends and family. Dinner at Mary Mac's, an Atlanta institution, with daughter Hannah and two tall men, Walter Mayes and Jim Pearce. I'm married to one of these men.

Here's Hannah adding some height perspective:

I came home to a mountain of mail. Jim Williams installing lighting in my home. Son Zach telling me about his latest DJ gig, daughter Hannah coming home to do laundry and catch up. All the usual suspects and more. Family is a circle of friends who love you. Michael Hill, Harcourt's southern sales rep is in town. We went to my favorite noodle house for comfort food last night. This morning I'll pick up Carol Moyer (of Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh) and we'll go junking in the hours between the author breakfast and the author lunch at SIBA.

So I'm off to SIBA this morning -- the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance conference. It's in Atlanta this year, right in my backyard. I'll take my camera. I'm going to see my southern bookselling friends and be on a panel with other authors, discussing stories. I haven't let myself do the post-tour crash yet, but I will soon. I have one week at home before I travel to MBA -- Midwest Booksellers Assoc. -- and two schools in Wisconsin. And more.

Time to make the doughnuts. I'll be here if you want to stick around a while. Thanks for going on tour with me. It was so, so wonderful to have your company.

Follow the Yellow Book Road to the Land of Harcourt

I was going to title this post "I am worried about my cleavage," but that just wouldn't be appropriate, would it? I was on television Wednesday morning and... well... I write books for children, I'm representing children's books, I wore red so I wouldn't look like a cadaver. I didn't think about my cleavage. This is what it has come to, on the road. It's all about the cleavage.

I *would* like to point out that I left only one thing behind yesterday, but it was recovered. I want to say that right off the bat. I didn't leave it at the teevee station. I didn't leave it at Yellow Book Road. I left it at... but wait, I'm gettin' ahead of myself, left me back up.

No, I can't back up. I can hardly make a sentence this morning. I've been on the road for most of the month of September and today I'm going home. No bookstores, no libraries, no schools, no nuthin' but a five-hour plane ride in first class. First Class. I was upgraded last night; Delta Airlines must have been alerted: "She has worked so hard! Let's give her a comfy ride home."

Yesterday morning at this time I was getting ready for publicist Tricia Van Dockum to pick me up at my San Diego hotel and drive me to the Fox News station for an interview about ALL-STARS. "I haven't read the book," said morning show host Mark Bailey in the green room as I tried not to check my cleavage, "I just got it yesterday, but here's what I'm thinking from reading the pitch letter. I got to thinking of Ken Burns' PBS documentary about baseball. It was full of women talking about how much baseball had meant to them as kids -- Doris Kearns Goodwin was one -- and I'm wondering if women approach baseball not only as a game, but also on some sort of emotional level..."

And men don't?

I'm quickly trying to decide if this is sexist or not; I wonder if my cleavage is prompting his question, but I decide Mark is sincere and wants to find purchase for this book so we can talk about it to an adult audience, and I agree that that's one way to pitch the interview -- the social fabric of baseball culture.

When we're in the studio a little later (no, that's not me with Mark at the news desk) and I'm asked that question, I say that baseball is the American game, and that girls wanted to play, too (and I'm thinking of Karen Blumenthal's wonderful book LET ME PLAY, The Story of Title IX: The Law the Changed the Future of Girls in America -- I know I was influenced by this book when I wrote ALL-STARS).

I say that yes, there was an emotional element to baseball when I was a kid -- I wanted to play! In THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS, Ruby Lavender just wants to play baseball. So did an old man who chose not to play, and another old man who wasn't allowed to play.

I also say that I was in love Sandy Koufax. I think I called him gorgeous. There are all kinds of emotions in baseball.
Tricia hands me off to Kia Neri at breakfast. At Yellow Book Road we encounter another sea of students -- 4th graders, all. And I run smack into my team! Here they are, lurking in the aisles, and then gathered together for a photo. This is the children's marketing/publicity team at Harcourt that put together this amazing tour and took me on the road, that shepherds each season of Harcourt books for children. I am indebted to them in ways I well know, and in ways I can't imagine. Barb Fisch says, "We saw you on television!"

How was my cleavage? Let it go, Deb.

During a Q&A after my presentation, a student asks me how I make the finished story into a book and get it into the store. I refer him to the people in the baseball shirts and tell him that it takes a village to make a book, and that these folks -- along with readers -- are the real stars. I mean it most sincerely.

I meet readers and sign books and stock while owner Mary Hayward sells me Marla Frazee's WALK ON for my toddler grandgirl and TOYS GO OUT by Emily Jenkins and Paul Zelinsky for the 7-year-old.
I say goodbye to Mary and Bud and Yellow Book Road and dash to Harcourt's downtown offices with Kia -- we are expected for lunch. After a quick hello to publisher Dan Farley -- is it live or is it Memorex? --
we take ourselves to Dakota, where I get to meet Steve Hamilton and Roseleigh Navarre, the IT folks who set up this blogging tour with me. I am ever-so-grateful -- look at the memories I've been able to capture, thanks to Steve and Roseleigh... I would never have figured this out on my own.

And here we are, the whole gang, telling tour stories and laughing ourselves through lunch -- "I come from a family with a lot of fabulous people," to misquote Comfort Snowberger. Here are some of them. It is so, so good to see them again. Thank you, thank you, thank you, every one of you, for... everything.



I almost leave my camera on the bread plate but remember it. I do leave my shawl under the table, and we have to go back and grab it before the Warwick's signing after lunch. But we do, we get to Warwicks in La Jolla, we sign stock (okay, I sign it), and I meet Janet and Adrian, pictured below.


What a fantastic store. Janet and Barbara (not pictured) worked at The White Rabbit, a beloved children's book store in La Jolla that everyone still misses keenly. I'm so glad they've brought their expertise to 111-year-old Warwicks -- I could have listened to the book conversation for hours.

Purchased at Warwicks: A CD by Pink Martini called "Hang on Little Tomato" -- this was my impulse buy at the register. Also, BEAR SNORES ON by Karma Wilson for the toddler, AIRBORN by Kenneth Oppal and THE ALCHEMYST (Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel) by Michael Scott for the 12-year-old, TALENTED CLEMENTINE by Sara Pennypacker for the 7-year-old, and LEAVES by David Ezra Stein, for me because I am enchanted by it -- you must check it out.

Another handoff and I'm with my agent, Steven Malk, whom I haven't seen in five years, but with whom I've worked since 1999. I've had more reunions on this west-coast tour, and it has been a good thing. A drive to look at the water and a low-key dinner with the shortstop and his team (Hey, Lindsey!) is the perfect way to end the day and this tour.

Now I gaze around this hotel room -- I must pack yet again. But this time I pack for home. I'm taking back much more than I brought with me, of course, as always happens when people travel. I have some books for the plane, a rad soap, a box of zinnia cards (Thank you, Kathy S.), a tin of terrific chocolates with Sandy Koufax's image on the front (Thanks, Jandy), a sunflower from a fan (Hmm.... logistics....), coffee beans and some CDs Cousin Marcia sneaked into my bag (Patty Griffin), and more memories than I can pack into a suitcase.

I won't wrap up here. I still have SIBA, a regional booksellers conference, to attend in Atlanta this weekend. I'll have dinner tonight with my family and with Walter Mayes, as he's working in Atlanta today as I fly home. So I'll see you on the other side of the country. I loved the left coast. I love home. I love stories... I can't make much more sense than that!