I am a failure at this daily blogging thing.  However, my failure is making this countdown to THE SECOND SPY go a lot faster.  (Only 51 days left? It seems like just one entry ago there were 55…)

Today’s F.A.Q.: How old were you when you started writing?

This is my very first rejection letter.  It came from Highlights Magazine, and I just rediscovered it last fall, glued into my oldest scrapbook amid a lot of My Little Pony and Care Bears birthday cards.  Of course, Highlights handles submissions from kids very kindly, so it wasn’t so much a rejection as a “Don’t call us; we’ll call you” sort of letter, but the outcome was the same.  I’d sent them some little four-line rhyming poem–I think there were cows in it–and I was trying to write something that the magazine would like, not that I liked. 

You can see the date, typewritten at the top: December 30, 1987.   The day after my eighth birthday.

The poem I sent to Highlights is the first poem that I can recall putting on paper outside of school, on my own, just because I wanted to.  I started writing my first “book” not too long afterward: It was a lavish mess about a rebellious princess who ran away from her kingdom and ended up in a valley full of unicorns (as one does, if one is a rebellious princess).  I didn’t show that story to anyone.  And I didn’t show anyone my next story (which was probably also about unicorns), or my next poem, or the story after that, or the poem after that.  And I didn’t submit my writing to any kind of publication for another eight years.

By then I had written dozens of poems and stories.  And I had gotten a little bit better at it.

The wait time is dwindling…

And here is the first visual clue of what to expect within THE SECOND SPY.

Today’s accomplishments: Typing and cleaning up more than 4,000 words of the current version of Volume Four, and smacking a wasp that had gotten into the house before Brom could eat it.

Today’s frequently-asked question: How many books have you written?

If the questioner means, ‘How many books have you written that have been published, the answer is: 2, with #3 coming soon (or #4, if you count my chapbook of poetry.)

If the questioner means, ‘How many books have you written, published or not, the answer is: I couldn’t possibly count them.  I’m currently revising two books, and I have two more waiting in the wings with their early chapters and notes.  And, back in my practicing days, I wrote an adult novel, a series of graphic novels, and dozens–perhaps hundreds–of novels that end at Chapter 3, where the writing started to get hard, and I gave up.

Here’s a picture that I sometimes show at schools:

All of those binders and notebooks are full of my writing: hundreds of poems, dozens of short stories, and many novels — some finished, and some that never will be finished. There is another row of binders that can’t be seen on the shelf up above, and another stack of currently-in-use books and folders sits on my desk.  I’ve never counted to see when and where I reached a million words (Ray Bradbury once said, “If you want to be a writer, write a million words,” which I think is pretty good advice) but I’m sure that most of those first million are here, in these folders.  And I’m grateful that no one will ever get to read most of them.

I spent yesterday having an amazing time with the 4th graders at Mosinee Middle School in Mosinee, Wisconsin (thanks again, students and teachers!), and hurried home to Red Wing just in time to be late for rehearsal with Soapbox Players.  This is my excuse for yesterday’s postlessness.  Today’s will have to be a short one too, as I’m squeezed between revisions and appointments and more rehearsals.  As an apology, here’s a picture of Brom, in the sunniest corner of the couch.

So, as promised, I’m trying to blog at least once per day as THE SECOND SPY’s release date (July 5 – Have I repeated that enough yet?) approaches.  Consider this one giant, wordy drumroll.

I am neither very good nor very comfortable with talking about myself.  When someone gives me a big, open-ended prompt like, ‘Tell me about your books,’ or ‘Give us some stories about you,’ I begin to fold over and curl in on myself, as though I am trying to climb face-first into my shoes.  Therefore, for this series of rapid-fire entries, I am going to use the help of others by answering the questions that I am most frequently asked when I speak at schools, libraries, conferences, and bookstores.

And, at the end of each week, I’ll give a visual clue about what is to come in THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME THREE: THE SECOND SPY.

Let’s start with what may be the biggest question of all:

Why do you write?

All sorts of poetic, crazy, wonderful answers have been given to this question by all sorts of poetic, crazy, and wonderful people, but if you boil them down, it seems to me that all writers’ answers are variations on these three simple ones: 1. Because I want to.  2. Because I need to.  3. Because I’m good at it.

George Orwell said, “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.  One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”  I guess that falls into the need category.  (Also: Ouch.)  Here’s how Ray Bradbury put it: “If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy or both – you must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”  I suppose that’s a combination of need and want. (I love you, Ray Bradbury.)  Anne Sexton–one of my favorite poets–said, “When I am writing, I am doing the thing I was meant to do,” which sounds to me like all three.  Flannery O’Connor said, ‘Because I’m good at it.’ (Of course, she was Flannery O’Connor, and she could say things like that.)

We actually discussed this question over lunch one day during the Endangered Authors tour, and I blathered something about writing being the lens through which I see the world.  It’s the way I take in and transform everything around me and within me: All the memories, emotions, daydreams, questions, the images that I know will fade.  Changing these floating, fragile things into written words is the most exciting, most challenging, most absorbing thing I’ve ever done.  (Adam called it ‘reifying the ineffable,’ which is a much clearer way to put it.)  When we write, we take something that is completely immaterial and transform it into actual ink on an actual page (or virtual ink on a virtual page, which counts).  And that, to me, is magic.

There are things I’ve written just for myself–like journals and letters and certain poems–because I needed to shift the thoughts out of my head and onto a page, to take them from being something that controlled my mind and my emotions into something I could construct and change and even love.

There are things that I’ve written–like THE SHADOWS–for someone else.  I started that book because I’d had the image of Olive’s house lurking in my brain for a decade, and I wanted to turn it into a story that my brothers would have liked when they were kids.  When I finally finished it, I realized that other kids might like it too.

There are things that I’ve written because I wanted to challenge and stretch myself; because I wanted to share something strange or beautiful or frightening or funny with people I’ve never met and never will meet.  I never get tired of that effort.  I never feel 100% satisfied.  I always want to make the next thing better.

When I sit down to write, I have a swarm of motivations whirling around me.  I have a story that I want to tell.  I have characters I can’t wait to visit with, to hear what they’ll say and do next.  I get to practice the magic of turning thoughts and senses and emotions into words on a page.  And, these days, I have deadlines and contracts and (wonder of wonders) actual readers who are waiting to hear what will happen next.

So I guess my answer is: I write because I need to, because I want to, and because I’d like to get better at it.

There are now exactly sixty days until the release of THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME THREE: THE SECOND SPY.  Not that I’m excited or anything.

Last May, an artist named Tiffany J. Vincent got in touch with me.  Tiffany creates amazing, one-of-a-kind art objects inspired by works of fiction; for examples, check out her Harry Potter and Narnia pieces at her website, Curious Goods: www.curiousgood.com.  I drool over Bellatrix’s necklace.  Her niece, Anna (Hi, Anna!) is a fan of THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, and Tiffany is currently at work on a full-sized replica of the McMartin grimoire, as described in SPELLBOUND.  As a preview, she sent me her smaller-scale test version of the book’s leather cover, and her gorgeous interpretation of the McMartin family tree on the frontispiece.

Here’s a closer look at each:

How lucky am I?  (I’ll answer that myself: Insanely lucky.)

The news has already spread via many writing and publishing blogs, but just in case a writer between the ages of 18 – 25 hasn’t heard about it yet and happens to be reading this: Hot Key Books, in cooperation with The Guardian, is launching a truly incredible prize for young writers of children’s/teen’s fiction.  You can get an overview here and find specifics at the Hot Key Books website.

Publishers Weekly just ran a piece on the Endangered Authors Tour.  For photos and on-the-road stories from my fellow Endangered Authors, read on.

I promised that I would try to post here every day for the two months leading up to the release date.  I already missed yesterday, so I’m not off to the most auspicious start, but I have Good Intentions and a Plan.  There will be more blogging.  Soon.  I swear it.

And thanks for sharing your excitement about THE SECOND SPY, everyone.  Knowing that readers are out there waiting to dive into Volume Three is an awfully welcoming feeling.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’ve just returned from a two-week tour with three other middle grade authors, one brilliant improv actor, and a revolving cast of wonderful book reps, media escorts, and publicity folk.  En masse, we visited schools in Texas, California, and New York (thanks again to Visitation Academy and Eanes, Barton Hills, Sycamore, Fairlands, Los Alamitos, Santa Rita, and Covington elementary schools!), unfolded an incredibly collapsible set, and performed our “Endangered Authors” game show, as created by the Story Pirates.  After each stop, we’d pile back into our van like a bunch of bookish vikings and sail off to invade the next school.  We also made stops at Mrs. Nelson’s Toy and Book Shop, Hicklebee’s, and Vroman’s Bookstore in California, signed books for one sunny, breezy afternoon at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival (I saw Betty White!  From a great distance!  But that counts!), had dinner with Judy Blume and John Green and the rest of the Penguin Young Readers Group, and spoke on a panel and chatted with librarians at the Texas Library Association convention.

(Mid-show, at Eanes Elementary School. L to R: Adam Gidwitz, E.J. Altbacker, Jacqueline West, C. Alexander London, and Peter McNerney)

(Blurry writers gnawing ribs, in Austin)

(Playing stickball between school visits in California)

All of these hotels and dinners and run-ins with famous authors are so very, very different from my real writing life, which mostly involves shuffling around my house in wrinkled pajamas and dirty eyeglasses, microwaving a third cup of coffee.  I miss my tour cohorts, who were so marvelous that they made two weeks of crowded van rides feel like fun–and anyone who gets the chance to see the Story Pirates, Adam Gidwitz, C.Alexander London, or E.J. Altbacker in action absolutely should.  But I am also glad to get back to revising Volume Four, planning my garden, and catching up with Brom Bones, who had quite a lot to tell me when I came home.

Apparently, Brom grew increasingly nervous and naughty while I was gone.  On the last day of the tour, he tore apart two wastebaskets and ate a box of Crayola crayons.  (According to Ryan, afterward, he pooped rainbows.)

It’s hard to believe, but there are now just two months (and two days) until the release of THE SECOND SPY.  The paperback release of SPELLBOUND on May 24th is even closer.

With so much good fortune all at once, this almost seems like overkill, but I’ve just learned that THE SHADOWS has been selected for the 2012-2013 Sunshine State Young Readers Award list for grades 3 – 5.  Huge thanks to everyone who made this happen.

I had this mini-conversation at the Post Office yesterday, where I was mailing a package of signed books.

Postal Worker: These things are headed the way of the Dumpster.

Me (with slight concern, thinking she was referring to anything sent via “Media Mail” these days):  What?

Postal Worker: Everybody’s got their Kindle now.

Me:  Oh.  Yes.  I suppose so.

Postal Worker: My nine-year-old granddaughter, she’s always reading on that little screen.  I love books, myself.

Me: Yeah… So do I.

And then I walked away, feeling vaguely sad and disoriented, thinking of copies of my books being cheerily tossed into Dumpsters by house-cleaning Kindle-owners.

I suppose it’s true that Kindles and Nooks and iPads are taking the place of paper books — when it comes to certain books and certain readers, at least.  They are handy and speedy and trendy (and dubiously eco-conscious), and there’s not much point in bemoaning their existence, whatever their pros or cons.  But here’s the thing: They’re headed the way of the Dumpster too.

Just like phonographs, and record players, and Walkmans (Walkmen?), and CDs, and eventually, iPods.  Just like those weird, boxy, early-days mobile phones that are approximately the size of a man’s penny loafer.

Someday, Kindles and Nooks and other e-readers will be outdated items that no one can repair or supply with media anymore.  And on that day, books–all the books left in the world–will still work.

When I was in England with my college choir, we visited a medieval church where a monk showed us the oldest book in the church’s collection.  It had been handwritten by that very same church’s monks sometime in the 10th century.  It was a thick volume with a plain, graying cover, and he opened its pages to show us the squarish, black-and-red calligraphy that had come from those monks’ pens, recording the Latin chants they had sung more than a thousand years ago.  It was like a line strung through time, straight back to those medieval men squinting over their tables with their candles and quills.  I cried.  And on the day when the last e-reader is sold, supplanted by some new form of technology, that book from the 10th century will still be serving its function–being read, and making some other sentimental choirgirl cry.  I hope.

Speaking of books and ways to get them, I am about to embark on a multi-state, multi-author tour.  C. Alexander London (An Accidental Adventure), Adam Gidwitz (A Tale Dark and Grimm), E.J. Altbacker (Shark Wars) and yours truly are heading off on what the Penguin publicity department has named the “Endangered Authors Tour” — a game-show themed program planned and hosted by performers from Story Pirates — visiting schools and bookstores in Texas, California, and New York.  Craziness will surely ensue.

If you’d like to catch us for a signing on the road, here’s the current itinerary.  Public events are in bold.

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately.  In my defense, it’s been a crazy month: Four school visits, a week-long writing residency at a magnet school, revision work on two novels, a trip to Seattle, play rehearsals, choir concerts…  (And this journal isn’t the only thing that’s been neglected.  The dust is so thick, every flat surface in my house appears to have been painted a soft, mousy gray.  There are clothes that I don’t even recognize anymore turning up in my slowly emptying laundry hampers.)

But I will be shifting from terrible to slightly-less-terrible in the very near future.  Yes — I shall attempt to post at least once a day for the two months leading up to the release of THE SECOND SPY.  (July 5!)  Until then, however, I’ll be revising, traveling, and letting the dust have its mousy way.

On the third day of my residency with the fourth-graders at Glacier Hills Elementary School of Arts and Sciences in Eagan, MN, KARE11 News (the Twin Cities’ NBC affiliate) came to film our activities and interview teachers and students.  You can watch the segment here:

These kids were a joy to work with, and I was absolutely blown away by everything that they were able to accomplish.

A new review of THE SHADOWS has appeared on the fantastic YA/MG blog Novel Novice.

And, in a rare bit of poetry news, I was delighted to learn that I’ve been nominated for the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s Rhysling Award, for my piece “Escaping the Dawn,” which appeared in Cover of Darkness in May 2011.  Past winners include writers like Jane Yolen, Gene Wolfe, and Catherynne M. Valente, so it’s much more than a cliche to say that it’s an honor just to be nominated.

I almost (ALMOST!) titled this entry “It Was the Best of Times…” but then I sort of wanted to kick myself.

So, the sad news first:

After eight years in business, my town’s independent bookshop, Best of Times, has closed its doors for good.  As sad as this makes me (and everyone else in town), it naturally wasn’t a shock; we all know how hard it has become for independent, small town stores of all kinds to survive in this age of online mega-retailers and economic insanity.  The few independent brick-and-mortar bookstores that seem to be keeping their heads above water (yes, I know bookstores don’t actually have heads, and I know brick buildings very seldom go swimming in the first place, but I’m feeling too sad and lazy to look for another idiom), like Portland’s Powell’s and Austin’s BookPeople, are massive places that can offer everything the big chains provide: cafes, lots of space and seating, fancy websites, and nearly every book you’re looking for, right there on the shelves.  But the indies can also provide many things the big chains don’t — or can’t. And the smaller indie shops — like Best of Times — provide things that even the larger one-of-a-kind shops can’t, like knowing the name of practically every customer who walks in, keeping local interest and small press books in stock, and hosting events for newer, lesser-known writers…like me.  Best of Times held the release parties for THE SHADOWS and SPELLBOUND, and they kept a signed stock of copies in the store for in-person and online orders.  A ridiculous, windmill-jousting part of me daydreams about opening a bookstore myself one day (other authors have done it!  Like Louise Erdrich! And Garrison Keillor!  And that’s just in the Twin Cities!), but I know that would require a set of skills and an investment of time and energy and love that I don’t have…at least, not now.

So I’ll just be sad.  And miss them.

I got back to Red Wing just in time to attend the bookstore’s goodbye party, after spending two weeks in Plano, Texas, visiting elementary schools.  To all the librarians, parents, teachers, and students who hosted me: THANK YOU.  It was a joy.

And, once I got home, more good news was waiting to spring on me:

First, THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME TWO: SPELLBOUND has been selected as a finalist in the Young People’s Category of the Minnesota Book Awards. THE SHADOWS was a finalist last year, which already felt too good to be true, but making the list two years in a row???  I was pretty sure that there had been a mistake, a la CHIME and SHINE at the National Book Awards.  Perhaps there was a Jacquelyn East on the nominees list.   Or maybe someone had written a book called SMELLHOUND.  (Now that I’ve double-checked the list, and seen the news in the Star Tribune and on the Awards website, I’m starting to believe that they did actually mean me, but it still feels too good to be true — because there is some amazing writing coming out of Minnesota these days, especially in the kids’ lit area: Anne Ursu, Pete Hautman, Lynne Jonell, Kelly Barnhill, Sheila O’Connor…  I’m happy just to share general weather patterns with these people.)

Second, THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME ONE: THE SHADOWS has won a place on the master list of the Illinois Bluestem Award.  Like the Texas Bluebonnet and the Louisiana Young Readers’ Choice Awards, the award is given based on the votes of young readers (which is already very cool), but the best part is that the book will be promoted in libraries and schools around the state.

And Brom Bones was very happy to have me come home.