A New Kind of Reluctant Reader

Everything's published in threes now, especially high-concept books. If it's interesting enough for one book, than it can be sustained through a trilogy. It's understandable, really. Publishing is a tough business, and the market gets more competitive every day. So if a writer has a good idea and the talent to pull it off, a trilogy means three-times the sales and three-times the time to gain a loyal following. But in doing this, has the publishing industry created a new kind of reluctant reader?

Now you're expected to commit to an entire series--in essence a 1000-page book published over a three-year period--with no promise of a return on your investment. That's probably why so many readers are overly critical of the last book in the series. "I've spent countless hours and nearly $75 on these books, so the series darn well better end how I want it to. And if it doesn't exceed my expectations...well, then heaven help the author."

Gone are the days of the episodic series of self-contained books with a distinct beginning, middle and end. Now everything is epiphanic, where a single sentence in the second chapter becomes critical to the plot two books later. You see this a lot in modern television as well. If you miss one episode, you're completely lost. But it's also not a new story-telling device. Serial writers like Charles Dickens and Robert Louis Stevenson used to do it all the time on a much smaller scale with their magazine fiction.

I don't even think it's a bad device. If done well, it allows better character development and exciting plot twists. It heightens the suspense and makes you crave to see what happens next even if you aren't sure you'll like it. But sometimes I just want to sit down and read a good book without having to worry that it will be another two years before I can read the end.

Three Amazing Woman with Three Amazing Books

Congratulations to the 2011 SCBWI Crystal Kite Winners! While I'm sure all of the authors and books are wonderful, three have special meaning for me personally.

Kathryn Erskine for Mockingbird

I first met Kathy at a writing conference last year right after she was nominated for the National Book Award. Not only do we share the same name, but we also share the same home state. Over the past year, I've had the opportunity to witness the impact this woman and her books have had on local authors.

Sydney Salter for Swoon at Your Own Risk

Before I could say S-C-B-W-I without thinking about it, I felt Sydney's influence. I got to know Sydney while I was living in Salt Lake City, and she's continued to teach and encourage me from 2,000 miles away.

Kate Messner for Sugar and Ice

I have such great respect for Kate as an author, teacher, mother and friend. Kate's writing career has really taken off in the past couple of years, and I'll continue to learn from her example as more success comes her way.

Sea Chanteys for the Landlubber

A few years ago my brother introduced me to sea chanteys (or shanties, but I prefer the French spelling because it's a better reflection of the word origin), and ever since I've been trying to convert all my friends. But let's face it, they're not an easy sale, especially if you aren't interested in maritime history and don't appreciate shaky old-man voices or drunken Irishman.

But chanteys have an amazing history. They were the pop-music of their time, a period that lasted about 400 years. (Can you imagine anyone on the Billboard Top 100 staying there for hundreds of years? I get sick of most of them after a few days.) Like modern pop music, chanteys were designed to be simple and stick in your head, but that was because most seamen were illiterate. Chanteys gave a rhythm to the backbreaking work of the seamen and perhaps reminded them of the comforts of home as well as the adventures awaiting them in foreign ports. You can even hear echoes of chanteys in both American slave songs and Application music, although it might be more accurate to say you hear echoes of African tribal music in sea chanteys as it's difficult to say which came first and which influenced the other.

But that's enough history. On to a new playlist of some of my favorite chanteys. While some of these songs are more technically sea ballads or drinking songs, I wanted to give some variety to make the playlist more listenable as well as give it a modern twist.

"The Mallard" by Cliff Haslam
"Blow the Man Down" by Stan Hugill
"Sally Gardens" by the King's Singers
"Whiskey in the Jar" by Wyide Nept
"Cecillia" by Simon & Gerfunkel
"Haul Away Joe" by Wyide Nept
"The Boxer" by Carbon Leaf
"Clear Away the Track" by Stan Hugill
"The Old German Clockwinder" by Cliff Haslam
"South Australia" by Liam Clancy
"Bully in the Alley" by Morrigan
"Blood Red Rose" by Liam Clancy
"Homeward Boud" by Stuart M. Frank
"Santy Ano" by Liam Clancy
"Scarborough Fair" by Simon & Garfunkel
"Mary Mac" by Carbon Leaf
"Bring 'Em Down" by Clark Branson
"John Kanakanaka" by Wyde Nepy
"What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor" by the King's Singers
"I Wish They'd Do It Now" by Cliff Haslam

If you want to read more about sea chanteys from the last real sea chanteyman in the world (he died in 1992), Shanties from the Seven Seas by Stan Hugill is a must-read. Or if you're truly adventurous, you can participate in a chantey singalong at the Griswold Inn in Essex, CT, every Monday night starting at 8 p.m.

He Is Risen

It's been a beautiful start to spring in DC. Even all the rain we've been getting can't dampen the mood the cherry blossoms bring. One of my favorite things about spring is Easter. I pretty much love any holiday, but I especially love this one that allows me to reflect upon my faith and new beginnings and forgiveness.

Although I didn't have a basket full of sweets waiting for my this morning, I received a special treat during the Easter service at church when my friend Lisa spoke about her faith in Christ and shared a beautiful message of hope with the congregation.

After the service, Lisa and our friend Dave came to my place to enjoy Easter dinner with all the trimmings. None of us have family in the area, so we made everything ourselves.

While I've made deviled eggs a few times, I tried a new baked ham recipe with rosemary and pineapple, which turned out really well. There was a couple minutes of panic when I realized I had no salad dressing, but thanks to the internet, I found a rosemary-dijon dressing I happened to have all the ingredients for.

And lisa made an incredible mince meat pie. This was the first time I've even had mince meat, but I'm a fan.

After way too much food, we decided to to take Dave on a tour of the monuments. (Dave's visiting from LA and leaves early tomorrow morning.) Unfortunately, it started pouring as soon as we got down to the Tidal Basin, so we only made it through the FDR Memorial and walked about halfway to the Jefferson Memorial before we were too cold and wet to do the walking tour. So we drove around the city and pointed to distant, rain-obscured buildings.

Overall, it was a great holiday. I missed my family and Aunt Chris' big Easter bash, but I look forward to heading to Chicago for my cousin's wedding next month. I hope your holiday was filled with good memories, good food and good reflections on the season. On to new beginnings and new blessings in the year to come.

Fairy Tale Retelling?

A friend of mine had her baby-sitter cancel on her this weekend, and thanks to rain, the baseball game I was planning on attending was postponed. Thus, I was free to watch her three children. And because I don't often hang out with kids without a "teen" in their age, I watched my first animated Disney movie in years (I believe I saw both Meet the Robinsons and Chicken Little on plane rides at some point).

Aside from the predictable dialogue and less than stellar music, I found myself laughing. A lot. Maybe it was because kids' laughter is unbelievably infectious, or maybe it was so predictable that I laughed at the jokes both coming and going. I really don't know. And it's beside the point. Watching this movie made me think about how different Tangled is from the Rapunzel story I heard growing up, yet somehow the story manages to be both recognizable and nostalgic.

Which begs the question, when does a story go from being a retelling to being a completely different story? And if it’s labeled a fairy tale, how closely does it need to stick to folklore before it becomes fantasy?

In lit classes, a lot of professors like to say that there are only a handful of stories that are told over and over. You have the creation, the epic journey, the love saga, the family drama—depending on who you talk to, the archetypes are slightly different. While this might be one of those intellectual quandaries designed to make you think about what you’re reading, I mostly think it’s a cop-out to pave the way for comparative essays.

Ever storyteller uses unique skills to make a story their own. How many boy-meets-girl stories can there really be? Yet each rom-com keeps us wondering how the two hopeless cases will ever get together in the end. And what more can we possibly do with man vs. man? But every time the underdogs sacrificially face an army twice their size, we always cheer when they manage to defeat their foes. Shakespeare often based his stories on mythology and local legends, and even Jesus Christ quoted past prophets and familiar allegories to teach the people in his day. So maybe a story is found more in the audience than the teller.

Throughout the entire movie, my friend’s 7-year-old daughter never batted an eye at the horse who acted like a dog or wondered how simple lanterns could fly or took pause at how a man could jump from a castle tower and not get hurt, nor did she once question how Rapunzel could cart around all that hair without it getting dirty, knotted or broken. What she didn’t buy into was how a tear could heal someone after magic hair had failed. The irony being that it was Rapunzel’s tears the healed the prince in the original story—the Grimm’s Brothers never mentioned there was anything magic about her hair. My young friend was shocked when I told her that was basically the only thing Disney kept from the original.

The next day I gave my friend a copy of Paul O. Zelinsky’s Rapunzel so the family could read a more scholarly version of the fairy tale. But just because it’s based more closely on the Italian folklore doesn’t make it any more valid of a story. After all, how strong can human hair really be?