writerwriterwriter

Writing updates #8

2012-01-09T08:17:00.000-08:00

Dear world, you can buy my books (and almost anyone else's books) here:http://www.bookdepository.com/ They ship free, world wide

Writing updates, short and sometimes odd.
Often with pictures.
NEVER with spoilers.
If you want to go back to the beginning:

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/05/writing-updates-all-projects-2.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/06/writing-updates-3-2011.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-4.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-5.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/09/writing-updates-6.html

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/09/writing-updates-7.html

Or you can just start here:::

A Resurrection of Magic is a trilogy. Two books are finished: ((see the books)) and I am writing the third one now. In these books there are two voices and two stories that go back and forth, every other chapter. The stories begin 200 years apart and the first one causes the second one...

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1.9. 2012

Two people might be dead.

I can't find them.

No, they aren't real, but they are--to me. Writing a trilogy is a long, life changing thing sometimes. These books have dragged me into the dark woods of my own ethical connundrums. Today's writing is going to hurt, I think....which is why I am fiddling here, on the blog , instead of writing. By the time anyone reads this, though, I will be back in Limori, walking the paths that connect South End with Ferrin Hill. I intend to stay well below Market Square. I don't want to know if Thomas Marsham had anything to do with this. Not yet anyway.

This is a Beaucarnea Recurvata with a nearly 200 year old broad leafed vine climbing inside it. I watered the vine too much (or too little) this year and killed it. Every time I think about that, I wince. I should not be trusted with exotics. I should plant beets. I know how Sadima feels this morning.

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1.13. 2012

Thanks to everyone getting in touch to say they are waiting for the book. It helps me with the hardest thing of all--the first few sentences of the day. I wrote this at about 7:00 am :

The paths were lessused here. It was quiet. Too quiet. No birdsong, no rustling in the deep carpet of pine needles. Everythingseemed wrong. Her hopes felt too big for her body. Her fears were sharp and close.

Then I wrote seven more pages. I also played in my little late-season garden and made a compost heap and trimmed the bougainvillea in the back yard. A lovely day. Thank you all.

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1.19.2012

There are things I have wondered about since the beginning of this trilogy. The answers are finally emerging and they make perfect sense. People who send their children into the cliffs are not simply seeking a connection with the wizards. It isn't that simple.... how could it be?

I clicked this picture while traveling because these children (and the dog) were overtired, flushed with heat, crying, (panting) wanting to get out of the crowd. I overheard the parent on the left lecturing his daughter, insisting she would remember everything she had seen on their journey. She started kicking and chanting "No I won't, No I won't" which embarrassed him into setting her down. And then he walked away. He walked slowly, but without looking back. I assumed she would run after him but....she hesitated for so long that I wondered if I should intrude, or at least follow to make sure she found her father. Then the train came and she ran after him and I lost track of them in the crowd. Her father's need to remind her that he didn't have to take care of her--and her hesitation--made me wonder about a lot of things that have ended up in this trilogy.

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1 . 21 . 2012

Yesterday's writing was painful for me. Painful but true. I tend not to plot, not to know what will happen next. I birth characters in order to follow them around and record what happens. And yes, that sounds silly to me, too, but there it is. For me anyway, book-people are real.

This Jacaranda tree came up from a seed about 10 years ago. I noticed it hiding before it was an inch tall, barely rooted in a tiny crack between the driveway and an old railroad-tie planter.

I admired its courage and tenacity, then forgot about it until I realized it was almost a foot tall. I kept thinking I should transplant it, move it, but it was fascinating to watch it shove back the old asphalt bit by bit and, somehow find enough water and light to keep growing.

That's what I am hoping for the people I love in Limori. Some of them are missing now and no one knows why. Including me. I want them to find light and water, but I know they might not.

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1 . 27 . 2012

6:15 am here in CA USA.
I have a routine. I am usually up by six, and usually start writing about an hour later, after I tend to FB, twitter, this blog, and answer at least a few fan letters then do a critique or work on a presentation or speech, etc.

Today, I woke up with a character explaining something to me. I don't usually hear characters' voices until my hands touch the keys, but this was important. I know where to look for one of the missing people now and even though the city of Limori is dangerous, I am almost sure she is safe. Oh, I hope so, she has helped so many people in South End.

This is a ginger bloom. They are patient and last for months, each layer unfolding so slowly that the changes are impossible to see day to day. They should write novels.

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Publishing. Old, New, Self, Indie

2011-12-21T13:39:00.000-08:00

Traditional publishing is stillundergoing a sea change, a departure from many of the old models. It is apainful, wrenching///exciting, amazing new phase for storytellers and storysellers. The big-6 publishers aredownsizing staff and have been for years. They are looking for new ways to beefficient and still create and sell great books. They are experimenting withincredible multimedia projects, and are sizing up the oncoming waves of readingdevices and other story-vehicles. They still support great print books whilereleasing great ebooks. People who work at publishing houses are generallysmart, dedicated to their work, and love a good story. They are also innovatorswho know how to adapt or morph.

It’s an echo of howitunes wiped the slate and gutted the album format. The big music studios said therewould be a gazillion garage bands with 30 fans each. They turned out to be almostright. Even the TV mega talent shows rarely seem to launch careers the way thestudios once did. On the other hand, the indie bands are thriving and I lovethe idea of artists of all kinds finding their audience, mega, big, small,global or local. Art belongs toeveryone.

For now, at least,the publishers still offer writers what they always offered us: a long, steeplearning curve that will eventually qualify some of us for access to incredibleeditors with critical reading skills and DEEP story experience--as well as informedand energetic marketing staffs. If awriter can captivate someone who has spent years reading and developing books....it'sa good sign that lots of readers will find the work compelling, too. A sign,not a guarantee. There are none. There never have been.

Almost every careerwriter I know asks writing-friends to beta-read their raw work. I do. Ioften spend time on rewrites before my editors see it. I spent mylearning-curve years in writing classes, reading a hundred or more books aboutwriting, studying literature, reading, reading, reading, writing, writing,writing, and going to endless writer's conferences. I took notes while famousauthors, incredible editors, artists, and agents shared what they had learnedalong the way. I still go to conferences. I get to speak now, but when I am notspeaking, I am listening and I still take notes. I did all of this and more becauseno easier way was offered to me—or anyone else. There was no other way to enterinto the career I wanted more than anything. I assumed a 5-10 year craft learningcurve because that's what we were all told by the writers we listened to.

And now we areliving in the golden age of self/indie-publishing. It is fascinating tome. 2.7 million indie books werereleased in 2010. Wow. I just clicked in “self publishing” and there were10,200,000 hits. Wow again. It’s an industry.

A very few indiepublishers have done really well. Some of these writers already had traditionalcareers and preferred to run their own show. Others are very good writers andmarketers who came prepared and have worked hard. I admire indie authors. I want to try indie pub for some of my stranger/odderworks next year. I can only applaud the time, energy, and money indie writershave poured into their work. The peoplewho have done well have earned it! I amcheering for anyone who has even modest success on their own. I know they aredoing ten jobs, all at once. I just want to say this:

Almost no one expectsmusicians to get good on an instrument without years of lessons, books, yearsof practice. There is a similar learning curve for writing. Mine was longer thanI thought it would be. Traditional publishing used to give writers a free wayto test readiness. I have a pile of rejections. Now writers are told to queryagents first. They offer the same readiness test. If you get a positiveresponse to your query, you send the manuscript or part of it and get morefeedback, sometimes detailed, sometimes painful. For absolutely no fee at all,agents will let you know where your stand because if they take you on, theywill have a stake in your success. Ditto old-school publishers. They put up themoney and pay and train the staff.

Indie publishers do not offerthat kind of service. It is almost certain that no craft/art/market specialistswill be reading your work with that kind of careful, invested attention. It will get published anyway.

Without mentors andteachers and beta readers, learning to write is like deciding to knit, buyingyarn and needles, then sitting in your room alone, waving them around andhoping for a sweater.

Storytelling is as old humanity and as common as rainy days. Many people are interested in getting good at it. If you don’t havecritique partners, consider finding some. Take classes, read the kind of books you wantto write. Read books about writing. Yourlibrary probably has a stack of them. Ask librarians and independent booksellers what is flying off their shelves. Save up for conferences and if they offercritique staff, sign up to have your work evaluated. Take notes. Sift all thecomments carefully. It’s your work, shape it. Experiment with guided revisions. Learn. Get good. Then publish any wayyou want to. There can never be enough good books.

If you write for kids and YA, consider http://www.scbwi.org/

Writing updates #7

2011-09-25T07:40:00.000-07:00

I am tracking the progress of Book #3 of A Resurrection of Magic. NO spoilers will be posted. I promise.

If you want to go back to the beginning:

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/05/writing-updates-all-projects-2.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/06/writing-updates-3-2011.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-4.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-5.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/09/writing-updates-6.html

Or you can just start here:::

A Resurrection of Magic is a trilogy. Two books are finished: (( see the books)) and I am writing the third one now. In these books there are two voices and two stories that go back and forth, every other chapter. The stories begin 200 years apart and the first one causes the second one...

9:25:2011

The city of Limori is tense this morning, on the edge of something I can't predict. The magistrates--mostly descendants of the old royal families--are hiring guards and training them to fight. The merchants--including Hahp's father--see an opportunity to break the stranglehold of the magistrates control, their laws, their fees. The wizards are not what they seem to be. And the Eridians are learning that their beliefs are based on one girl's fears, and her genius, and her love.

Everything in this picture has a story. The sugar bowl was my Aunt Mollie's. The button jar took twenty years to fill. I bought the bracelet from a beautiful Apache woman on a train in New Mexico. The lovely blue paperweight is a gift from the fabulous http://www.bluewillowbookshop.com/ I found the carved deer bone in Colorado when I was ten. I heard my horse's hoof click on it as we scrambled up a bank, caught a glimpse of the shape. So I tethered my horse to a willow tree and slid back down to look. Sadima has found something this morning, something that scares her, and gives her hope.

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8.27.2010

It's getting harder to make sure there are no spoilers. The book is about 2/3's finished so everything is becoming more tense, tighter, harder to talk about without actually talking about it. I can tell you this: there will probably be some kind of bloodshed soon.

Afternoon shadows on my phytolacca dioica. The trunk is nearly six feet wide now. Every part of this tree is poisonous: leaf, root, bark, flower and seed. It reminds me of Somiss: amazing and deadly.

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9. 30. 2011
Hahp has done something he didn't think he *could* do. I am wondering if he can live through it. If he can't, everything changes. Writing involves every part of me and I am sitting here crying. I hate the wizards. I understand them--I do. But I hate them.

If you could fly high enough, the wind sifting through your fingers, your hair tied tight with a thread from the hemline of your robe, Limori would look like this tonight. The bonfires, the torch runners, the lanterns on the carriages as people try to get out of the city.
Anger and fear.
Fear and anger.

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10: 04: 2011
I have been reading research the past few weeks, mostly about ancient civilizations. I am trying to understand Limori better, how every set of rulers, every war, marks every generation that follows it.

A colonial graveyard in Boston. Most of the inscriptions are too weathered to read. There is a much older graveyard near Limori, next to what is now Malek Park--Hahp's father bought the land and couldn't care less about the history that lies in the ground. Sadima hid three keys there once, and now has them back. She is trying to remember what doors they open. She can't remember that she never knew.

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10 10 2011
Late last night, Hahp heard a voice I thought he would never hear. This is getting so strange. It always feels like the characters lead me along, now it feels like they are dragging me away from what I thought would happen toward reality. Their reality.

This is Volubilis, the southernmost Roman city ever built. It's in what is now Morocco. Stone survives. I kept thinking that while I was walking around, staring at the remains of baths, barracks, grand homes. Stone survives. The cliffs outside the city of Limori have held magic and magicians for so long that there is no clear beginning point of their history. I thought it had been hundreds of years. Now, I think it might be thousands...

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This morning two characters will meet ....two people I thought would never meet... I have no idea what I will do if one of them doesn't survive the meeting. I am afraid to finish the scene.

This was taken out a train window and the human brain follows the laws of motion to blur what is close and make it easier to see what's in the distance. Staring out train windows is apparently a lot like writing a novel.

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10 23 2011
I woke up with the ending in my head. I have a lot to write to get there, and I am sure it will change as the characters live through it--and it is off in the distance and blurry. But I can see it from here. I can.

This tree is on Oahu, Hawaii, in a botanical garden filled with odd and amazing trees. I didn't write down the scientific name...but the common name is "cannonball tree". There was a warning sign, telling people to stand back. So I was respectful and quiet, and can tell you that the fruits are huge, heavy, smooth and that they smelled--impossibly-- like vomit and a strange, distant, perfume. As I walked away, one of the fruits fell--on the far side of the tree, nowhere near me, and I had this tiny moment of feeling like it meant something, like the tree was telling me it could have hurt me, but hadn't. Sadima feels that way this morning. Like she has been warned, but also spared.

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10 30 2011
There is a boy who has been fighting for years just to stay alive. He is hiding, standing in the dark, holding his breath, wishing he'd had the courage to jump into the deep water six years before. He almost wants to be found. He is longing to end the fight, to stop the fear, to put down the double-edged knife of hope.

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11 14 2011
Sadima is in Market Square this morning. All around her people are scared, close to panic, staring upward...

I have no idea what she is going to do--or not do. She has a reason to live now, though, and that changes everything.

This is me, hiding behind the French edition of book #2. My series title is : A Resurrection of Magic. Their title for the trilogy is: The Price of Magic. We are both right.

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11.20.2011

I stopped writing last night in the middle of a scene because I wasn't sure how Hahp would react to something. Prisoners who have been kept against their will for years carry their fear and rage in different ways. Hahp has, for most of his time in the cliffs, blamed his father. That's changing and I need to understand why, so I hope he will tell me. I know this much : his feelings, his reasons, aren't simple. They are tangled, barbed. I am not at all sure he will tell me the truth...or if he will talk to me at all.

trees from three continents, now imprisoned in my yard

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In the city of Limori, like anywhere else, the people who have read the history books understand things people who can't read never will. Over almost 200 years, Somiss has stolen, bought, preserved and studied almost all the books the royal families once owned. He will not make the mistakes the ancient wizards made.

This is a little tangle of barbed wire I dug up in the garden. In Colorado, it was common, a leftover from the range wars. Farmers used it to keep free range cattle out of their corn. The cattlemen cut the wire every chance they got. It was a small, strange war to settle who owned the land that had been stolen from the First Nations--the people who came here from other places many centuries before Spain decided to colonize Mexico, before Englishmen sent their second sons to a new world to make a fortune from slave labor. And all of this happened thousands of years after the incredible building that eventually became the Pantheon was built in what eventually became Rome, Italy. History is always shameful, sometimes glorious, and always still in progress.

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12.25.2011

People who have have impacted each other's lives for over two hundred years are standing in Market Square about 30 paces from each other--and they don't know it. The wind is rising and rain is starting to spatter. The South Enders know it's time to go home, but they can't. They just...can't. I am trying to stand close enough to peek over their shoulders so I can see what they see coming from beyond the trees. .

This tree lives in WI. You can tell it loves the wind--and fears it.

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12 19 2011

I know these entries are getting farther apart. I apologize. I am living in Limori now, barely coming up for food and water. I am on Chapter 64 and holding my breath because the characters I love best are all in danger. The city is full of anger and blame--almost none of it aimed at the real source the problem.

The sky, seen through a Giant Bird of Paradise tree, There is a rat's nest on the right, and an empty bloom sheath on the left. I could smell the flowers still, a little, but the rat-stink was much stronger.

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12 28 2011

Today in Limori's South End streets, Sadima heard a shout behind her. She recognized the voice, but she didn't look back. She didn't walk faster or slower and she didn't try to hide....she just kept walking. Sometimes that's all you can do.

This is my Euphorbia. It's a succulent, not a cactus, but the thorns are about 2 inches long and needle sharp.The white sap is milky, caustic, and poisonous. It drips out of even the smallest scratch. The plant was about two feet tall and a foot wide when I freed it from its container and introduced it to real dirt. It has grown slowly, relentlessly. It's well over six feet tall and at least six feet wide now. If I wanted to take it out (I don't, but if I did) it would be almost impossible. It intends to take over the world. How did I not see this coming?

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EDUCATION and the AMERICAN DREAM.

2011-09-14T14:28:00.000-07:00

As long as six years ago, speaking/appearing in schools, I began to hear about librarians being fired. Schools with no trained librarians became the norm in some states--or there might be one librarian serving 6-10 schools, spending half the day driving.

EDUCATION is being gutted to meet budget cuts.

Really?

Do we want to create a low wage-earning underclass? Because this is how you do it. You make education--even a self-guided/public library education like my own-- harder and harder for people of limited means. You take away the level playing field of good public education. You let the universities charge fees very few can afford. This dismantling of public education and public libraries is underway and growing. And it is the the worst betrayal of the American Dream I can imagine.

Please, look into what your own state is doing and make some noise. If we don't, no one will.

find your congressional reps here
https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml

Find your senators here:
http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.

writing updates #6

2011-09-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

I have been blogging about the writing process of A Resurrection of Magic. It's a trilogy.Two books are available now. I am writing the third one while you read these words... If I am not asleep.

If you want to go back to the beginning:

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/05/writing-updates-all-projects-2.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/06/writing-updates-3-2011.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-4.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-5.html

Or you can just start here.:

A Resurrection of Magic is two stories that go back and forth, every other chapter. There are two protagonists who live in the same city, 200 years apart. The first story causes the second one.

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9.4.2011

The time lines finally came together last night. It will be very strange for me to know that Hahp and Sadima are breathing the same air, hearing the same thunder, and that, after all that has happened, they might meet. If they can both just stay alive long enough.

(( Adding this later. No. The synchronization was a mirage/misjudged. It took another 11 days for this to be true))

This is the German translation. The cover art is perfect for Sadima today. She is hiding, scared, and sure of what she has to do now.

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Last night I wrote late ~~ and loose and free~~running to keep up, amazed at the beginnings of a weird thing in Market Square, the tension between sincere people who all believe their way is the only way...
It is so interesting to write like that, like a reporter recording a war or a famine or an overspill of magic...hearing conversations, seeing the conflicts....as a bystander, not a creator. These people are real to me. So even though I read (and appreciate and love) every single message from people who can't wait for me to finish the third book..and even though I know my publishers have been incredibly patient and feel the same way...

I will be very sorry to leave Limori and everyone I love there. I know I am going to feel strange for a while, like I can smell smoke and don't know where the fire is yet. If you live in Southern Ca, you will understand that last sentence. If not:

I took this shot of smoke-drifts through a plane window on my way home from the amazing Baltimore Book festival last year. The instant I was on the ground I called the fire info # and was told it was on brushland and almost out. THEN I could go get my bag and wait for the shuttle. I don't think I will ever stop wondering about Limori and the people I have come to love there.

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9. 9. 2011

Power outage last night...stopping my work abruptly. But before the lights went out, a really amazing connection between two of the characters emerged. Something I wrote in the first book suddenly made sense to me in the third book. It feels so odd when things like this happen. Like I am just a set of fingers for the characters to use as they get all this written down, sorted out, recorded accurately.

These are covers from two of my series for young readers. They both come from dreams I had in third and forth grade--incredible, vivid dreams. Every night, I would close my eyes here and wake up there. After adventures with gypsies and dragons and faeries and unicorns, I would find a place to sleep in the woods, in some friend's cottage, in a faerie's tree nest. I would go to sleep there---and open my eyes here, just in time to get ready for school. It was like having two lives.

Excerpts:: :http://www.kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/

Art by Sandara Tang, who is based in Singapore.
If she were closer, I would kiss her on the cheek.

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9. 12. 2011

My writing has been interrupted for a couple of days. Back to it today. Limori feels strange to me--not because I was gone, but because things are happening in the city that I can't quite see, can't figure out. I think Somiss has passed some turning point, and has very nearly left his humanity behind. It makes me think about Hitler, Stalin, damaged people corrupted by power into thinking complete, hideous nonsense and somehow believing it.

This is the everglades in Florida. The water/sky resonance is like a trance. The beauty seeps into your skin and you forget about the alligators and the water moccasins.

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9:16.11

AMAZING writing day yesterday. Hours and hours of typing fast to keep up. So many things are happening at once. The city of Limori is dangerous now, for women, for children, for anyone walking alone. Hahp needs a way out. Sadima needs a way in. I don't think either one knows what to do now. I certainly don't..

Everglades, FL USA thanks! SCBWI
for the amazing day

Birds can feel the air changing, fear congealing into anger.

They notice changes in pitch, in song, in everything.

and they always know when it is time to flee.

Critiques. The short answer is: Yes! If my own books aren't eating me alive.

2011-08-25T11:18:00.000-07:00

I have been doing critiques for writers' conferences for years. Because I couldn't attend SCBWI LA this year to do them at the conference, I decided to make amends to the 18 people I had let down by doing their sessions by phone and Skype, expanding from 20 minutes to at least an hour, and doing only 1 a day so that I could focus on each writer's work. This arrangement gives me enough time and emotional bandwidth to do my own writing, too, which is ever and always my priority.

The sessions have been amazing. Each writer provided ten pages and a synopsis. I read each ms carefully and marked up the pages with comments and suggestions. Then we scheduled a phone or Skype appointment.

At conferences, even the ones I love best, there is always a hurried feeling. This time, I could focus on the work, not the clock. We began by talking about the author's intent. Then we did a line by line examination of the 10 pages/synopsis. Once I understand what a writer is trying to create, I can focus on character voice, how to gracefully salt in backstory, build a seamless movie in the reader's mind, make sure the plot works, etc, etc...tailored for each writer. I always give concrete examples to support concepts and try to make sure everything is useful and tied to each writers' current work. With a longer session, I could do all of that MUCH better. I can't describe how lovely it has been. I have never done crits like this, without a conference as the backdrop. Each one was targeted and long enough to teach, instead of explain, writing skills.

So thanks to everyone who has been in touch. Yes, I am doing longer format critiques when I can fit them in. As much as I love to teach, I love writing far more, so I am sometimes unavailable. For rates, choices and all other details, you can contact me at kathleen duey at earthlink dot net

*I feel compelled to add--I will send you the info and never bother you again. I only do 3-5 critiques a month--and sending out the info to those who request it is NOT a way to build a mailing list. You will never hear from me again. I promise. I don't want a lot of critiques. I want to work with a few serious writers and save them all a couple of years.

******* Inserting this 10 08 2011: I have two HUGE projects coming up. I will have to cut back on doing consults in November 2011.

**adding this later. It can take a few days for me to write back...I really have to chase this deadline, but will respond with all the info ASAP.

****adding this even later: Almost every critique so far begins with a discussion of voice. One writer I helped just sent me a redone/re-imagined first page. The voice is **astonishing.** ((yay!))

*** Yes, I can evaluate a manuscript written for adults. I am an adult. The writing skills needed for YA storytelling are the same as those needed to produce stories for adults. In fact, the YA market won't tolerate a lot of the sloppy writing that often dominates commercial adult books. If you are going to be a writer, be a good one!

*** Long session yesterday and it was like watching a flower bloom. Lovely!

***Two more long sessions...it is so much fun to watch people light up when I point out the places where the text fails the story.

***Someone has asked if I am a harsh critiquer. NO. I'm a writer. I have friends who beta read my work before my editors see it. I know how it feels to hold your breath while someone reacts to your manuscript. I tell the truth, yes. Always. And I try to make it so that you can apply whatever skill we are addressing to everything you write from then on. ::::::: I have never made anyone cry. ((Actually, I did, once, sort of. She was crying because there was so much to fix and because I told her the story might not merit fixing, that maybe she should take all the great skills she had learned and move on. She had already spent two years on the story and hated to let it go. I held her hand and we talked about another idea she had--a much better one, stronger in every way. We walked through the story arc, and talked about the characters for the rest of her session. After almost a year of starting over, rewriting, and hard work, she sold the new book.))

Thanksgiving. It's complicated.

2011-08-02T08:34:00.001-07:00

Thanksgiving is an odd holiday for me.
It's complicated.
Twice.
Or maybe three times.

1.
My grandparents moved from Tennessee to Colorado when my father was five years old. I loved my quiet and reserved Grandpa and tried to love my irritable and opinionated grandmother. Grampa's Thanksgiving prayer was always short and sweet, but I remember him including the "Cherokee Nation" once or twice, because his mother--my great grandmother--was half Cherokee. He explained to me that the earliest colonists would never have made it through the first winter without a lot of "Indian" help. He said all the tribes got a "raw deal".

When I was in forth grade, my father began to buy me books about the Cherokee. I remember him turning it into a math lesson: Great Gramma was 1/2 Cherokee so Grandpa was 1/4, which made my dad 1/8 and me 1/16th. My father was proud of our fractional heritage. I heard him tell people that he had both Irish and Cherokee blood, so I started saying it too. The books he gave me on birthdays and Christmases taught me more about about the Cherokee culture. I read about the atrocities, too, the 1500 mile forced march from the Cherokee's home to a reservation in what became Oklahoma was called the Trail of Tears. Underfed and exhausted children who died were left by the wayside. Some mothers pretended their babies were alive, carried them day after day, desperate not to leave them to the crows and coyotes and ants. Old people who could not keep up were left behind, too. And there is more, so much more to lament and be ashamed of in the long, cruel history of the "settling" of America. I finally realized years later that was what my grandfather had called a "raw deal."

my great grandparents and their first four children.

2.
My great grandmother was half Cherokee. Her other half never came up at the dinner table. My grandfather never mentioned or prayed for that side of his heritage and I don't think anyone ever wondered why. I didn't. The books all said many Scotts-Irish people and others married Cherokee people in Eastern Tennessee long before and long after the Civil War.

My grandfather died when I was eleven. Years later my cousin told me they found his KKK card in his sock drawer after the funeral. He was a gentle, kind man and I was stunned. Some people said that when he was growing up the Klan was like a service organization, a club that helped out members in need. Maybe he believed that. I can't. It weighed on my heart and still does. I can't reconcile it with the sweet and soft spoken man I knew.

One of my cousins researched our family history. He found relatives none of us had ever met and documents we had never known about. There were a few vague references that made me wonder if we had a third heritage that had never been talked about or honored. But all hints were blurred and old and where there was ink on paper, it was faded and uncertain. I wanted to have more strains of humanity in my genes. I was writing by then and visiting schools. I would have loved to claim a broader heritage -- but no one found anything of substance. I was sure I would never find out, never know.

3.
Years later, when my father's Alzheimer's became profound, I was the one who took care of him, spending many hours every week in the fenced-in old house that had been transformed into a small care facility. I spent the last few months of those days sitting with him, interpreting his tangled, associative way of speaking for the caretakers on staff, and treasuring the times when he was suddenly himself for a minute or two.

One day, about six months before my father died, we were sitting side by side on the slumpy green couch in the TV room. He was relaxed, not agitated or scared as he was so often then. A new employee walked past us, a wonderful caregiver who had come to the US from Haiti. My father focused on her as she asked him if he would like a glass of water. She waited for him to answer and when he didn't she patted his hand and said she would ask him again later.

As she walked away, Dad gripped my arm hard enough to hurt. "You can't tell anyone," he whispered, then repeated those four words two or three times, looking into my eyes.
"Ok," I answered, "tell them what?"
"That we're part negro. Give me your word."
He was shaking and sweating and I wanted to ask him so many questions but I knew he wouldn't be able answer them. At that stage of his decline, his clear moments were truly just....moments. So I told him it didn't matter anymore, that lots of families had mixed heritages, that it was common and accepted by most people.
He cried.
My father cried.
And then he thought I was his brother and he asked me if I wanted to go fishing in Oregon come spring. I sat there, feeling light and changed, holding both his hands as I promised to get his tackle box cleaned out soon.

So my family tree is taller and wider than I thought. I am very thankful for that.

writing updates #5

2011-07-29T08:27:00.000-07:00

I have been writing about my writing, avoiding spoilers, but trying to paint a portrait of the day-to-day oddness that is the core of writing any novel.
I want to thank the kind people who have been waiting for this book for far too long (there are reasons, not interesting ones, for the delay).

Welcome!! readers from the Philippines, Germany, Poland, France, Canada, Russia, United Kingdom, USA, Georgia, India, Australia, South Korea,Latvia,Czech Republic, South Africa,
Hungary, Macedonia, Malaysia, Ukraine, New Zealand, !!

Hello and thank you!! I love it when you find me on FB, here, my website: http://www.kathleenduey.com, and twitter @kdueykduey

If you want to read the writing updates in order here are the links:

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/05/writing-updates-all-projects-2.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/06/writing-updates-3-2011.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-updates-4.html

......Or you can start here and fly on
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7.29.2011

Olive trees, those ancient, patient trees that watched Rome rise and fall.

Today's writing will take me back to a place I don't want to go. The characters are real to me, especially now, in the third book of the trilogy...

I wrote most of the chapter yesterday, was amazed at the turn it took, stopped writing and answered fan messages for an hour or two instead of facing what I knew was coming. Today, NOW, I have to go back.

The City of Limori has been destroyed by war so many times over the centuries. Wizards and kings, back and forth, the people swept up into a battle they become convinced is their own.
But it isn't. It never was.

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7 30 2011

This is a Euphorbia. The thorns keep it safe. And if that isn't enough, the milky white sap can burn your skin or blind you.

I was awake much of last night and slept in until 7:30am-- unusual for me. I have been sitting at the desk, writing notes from last night's insomnia-blast of revelations. I am just about to start writing for the day, a chapter with Hahp and Gerrard. They have learned to survive the pressure and disorientation of the dark passages they live in, the strange tests they are given. But now, the wizards are gone and everything has stopped. Why?

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The moon and one star. Taken with a shaky handheld camera, the lens madly searching for light. I held my breath and counted to sixteen before the shutter finally snapped.

8.1.2011
I spent a lot of yesterday rereading what I have written so far. I also read first person accounts of coal miners and documents from early American mines that describe the effects of working and living underground--and being trapped there. So now I know that what Hahp said yesterday is true, that what he is feeling is not unusual and what he intends to do is a typical human reaction. And I know now what will happen to him if he manages it...

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8. 5. 2011

I do critiques sometimes and yesterday was full of talking to people about their work. It's always interesting and always makes me see my own work more clearly. So today I am going back into the dark stone corridors with no idea what will happen, just that I need to be there to record it when it does.

Silk floss trees would rather be in South America, but they tolerate California. The thorns are huge, and store water in dry seasons. They can grow to 60 feet. mine is about 20 feet tall now.

The blooms always surprise me, like they were meant for some other more delicate, more poetic, less thorny tree. I am hoping for unexpected blooms today, for Sadima and Hahp. And Gerrard. Maybe especially for Gerrard.

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A bio-green-building in Paris....the windows are reflecting the trees across the street. Do they talk? The wall-plants and the ground plants--do they discuss flat ground and roots pointing down vs. roots clinging to wire frames filled with soil three stories up and having roots parallel to the ground?

The grand plan for a foggy Sunday: Three writing sessions today. First 90 minutes on A Resurrection of Magic #3. Thanks to everyone writing to ask when it will come out. I KNOW it is taking too long, but it is a complicated book and I am writing as fast as I can. It is intensely emotional for me to write--if you have read the books, you know why. Second session will be two projects I am not talking about yet, still exploring what will come next. Third session back to Limori and book #3. Now, off to DO all that....

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8.9 2011
An amazing thing is happening in Limori. Last night, the people in Market Square were stunned into silence, and so was I. This morning, I will go back and see if I imagined it, if it was an illusion, or real. If it is, I have no idea what will happen to Sadima now, or the boys inside the cliffs.

This is the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the picture was taken on an night walk. When the tower was built, it amazed the world, a triumph of art and steel, built to awe anyone who saw it.

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Did more critiques yesterday, two by Skype. Critiques in LA: twenty minutes (they have to, the volume of writers is massive) When I do them from home, average time about an hour. Two more today, later in the day. For now, I am about to sneak onto the green of Limori's Market Square in the middle of the night and see if I can find out who is building this thing. (see below) And why.

This ceiling is in the United Emirates, in a hotel that was built to accommodate royal visitors. The gold is really gold. The "opera balconies" are about 40 feet overhead. Sunlight pours through the high windows. Somehow, nothing echos, all sounds are hushed. So I was standing in a hotel lobby feeling like a transfixed, rural pilgrim, staring up at a cathedral/shrine/temple roof in 1429. Strange and lovely.

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This is in Fez Morocco, a family business of leather tanners and dyers. It was amazing to watch them work, moving sheep skins from one basin to anther. . In Sacred Scars it is the tannery where Sadima sometimes goes to sit beneath the nearby trees, protected from interruption by the piercing stench, knowing that both Grrur and Charlie are close, as close as they can be now.

I thought I knew what Somiss wanted, what he has searched for all this time. And I was wrong. I have three writing sessions planned today interspersed with my usual critiquing, tree trimming, planting, gardening, etc. The deepest insights come when I am outside doing something physical. This one did, yesterday. I dropped the shovel and ran for my office.

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8:18:2010

I sort of auto-wrote something last night, right before I shut down to go to bed. I was in that tired, defenseless, fluid/creative state that disconnects writer-support from the character--and they begin to breathe on their own. I think it is the protagonist of the next book talking to me. I hope so. If it isn't, whoever she is, she will get a book out of me
someday. (or the reverse?)

**added two days later***....below the photo is a short excerpt of what she said to me last night:

This is an old butter churn. I used it for years...then stopped spending every second of every day to grow and make food....so I could write books. It sits on my kitchen counter, a reminder and an old friend. The voice that came to me has a butter churn just like this one. But she doesn't use it to make butter--or anything like butter.

The Mystery Voice

“It’s not what you think, this ain’t any thimblerig. I’ve never been afraid of my mother. She’s no help, not ever, but she never hurt me nor Kerf, not once. It’s just that no one has seen her, not even Grabbat and she wouldn’t dare buy from no one else. I’ve wished for that. For her going missing, staying gone. I’ve hoped for the day of never again having to help her come up with enough for one of Grabbat’s little blue bags. But Kerf is sick. He needs food and I can’t leave him alone to go work the station crowd. The hat boxes are all empty. I don’t have one single thing left to sell.”

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8. 24. 2011

This is Heather Brewer, me, and Ellen Hopkins, in Rochester NY, at a book festival (an AMAZING one) a few months ago. I am including it here because sometimes the weirdness of writing (like any other weirdness) can only be honestly discussed with friends who share it. So, Yeah. We talked writing!!! And when any of us mentioned hearing voices, the other two just nodded.

Last night, just a few minutes before I closed up shop, Hahp started talking to me on the screen. And now I understand something in Skin Hunger that had never made sense to me before. I am about to start today's work. Hahp is near the lake, searching that huge dark chamber...he is hoping. And so am I.

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8. 26. 2011
About to start writing for the day. I kind of dread it this morning because I have come to love Limori and some of the things happening in the city of Limori are happening in my country, right now, too. So I guess even in books people are...people...wary and unfair.

This is a South American ice cream bean blossom. It's a pretty, rangy, tree with weirdly shaped leaves. New leaves are a deep blood red that changes to vivid green as they grow...Inga edulis is the Latin name. The fruit, which is not really a fruit, is amazing. It took me a long time to try it, I think because the tree itself is so...unfamiliar.

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8.30. 2011
The thing I am wrestling with now is that I have come to love the characters or pity and understand them, or I wish I could help them....so the hard scenes are REALLY hard to write. I have to write with hope, but I have to record what happens without making it up. And, yes, I know that sounds silly, but that is how it feels to me. If *I* write this story, it is going to be untrue--probably at least a little sappy with almost everyone surviving and finding some kind of life. And I know that isn't what really happens. It couldn't.

There are too many isolated, protected, powerful people involved. There are too many descendants of massive wealth in the city of Limori, most of whom harbor old hatreds, old rivalries. There is so much decadence, extravagant entertainments,exotic foods and a life-long feeling that they deserve to live this way as the step around the beggar children, annoyed at unpleasant smells. But there is no one with the means to stop it because they also pay guards and buy their loyalty.

I woke up this morning knowing this: There are a lot of desperate poor people in Limori, too, many more poor than rich, as is always and ever the truth.

This is a teapot, decorated with a bracelet. It sits on a table in South End, in a quiet room waiting for children to arrive. The woman who owns the tea pot is named Theodora Nerak. You haven't met her yet, but you will.

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Writing updates #4

2011-07-08T10:18:00.000-07:00

If you want to read all the recent updates you can find them here:

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/05/writing-updates-all-projects-2.html
http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/06/writing-updates-3-2011.html

Or you can just start with this one and fly on....

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July 8 2011

Book #3 of A Resurrection of Magic, in progress:

Late last night I finally understood the difference between the acceptance of love and the call of duty for three of the characters. I don't like what this means in terms of where I have to start today, but I don't have a choice. And it is after ten o'clock am here in CA and I need to stop procrastinating NOW. Sigh. Sometimes writing is painful.
The first two of the trilogy:

art copyright David Ho

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It is astounding what people can build from stone and mud: from hope and courage: from despair and longing.

July 10 2011
Before I start to write my current work today:
Free Rat: a story that has been incubating inside me for almost 15 years. It might be the next YA book, or maybe next to next. It took over my fingers and my brain last night again. Sometimes all I can do is listen and type. I am thinking about it more and more because even though I began weaving it a long time ago, it seems to be weaving itself now.Maybe because every time I read the news, I realize how close to my own world it really is. Mine and yours.

And now, back to the city of Limori, and everything it is hiding...

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July 13th, 2011

Trees have even more moods than people do-- This one matches mine this morning, perfectly, as I stare down the barrel of the chapter I am about to start...

In Limori Sadima is isolated and facing a decision so huge that I keep starting the scene over and over, because it hurts to write it and the last part will be the worst if it goes the way I think it might. Hahp and Gerrard are still both alive, both angry, and scared. I am hoping for some kind of happy ending but I can't see it from here. Yet. I am about 3/4s done. I think. I hope. It is getting longer and longer..

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I wrote a scene last night that I am almost sure will be "questioned" once the book is out. Sigh. I will read it again this morning and see if I was right about it being inevitable, necessary. I am almost sure it is. No actual sex involved...but there are other things. Fantasy seems to slip past the censorship fans. We'll see.

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7 20 2011

This is me, typing. And typing.

I am getting into the part of the book where things tighten and slowly begin to fall into place. I find there is almost nothing I can say that isn't a spoiler. Market Square is a dangerous place now. The poor people hold their children close and the rich are hiring guards.

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7.21.2011

First, I want to thank the people from all over the world who are reading this blog--about 500 of you this week so far!

Next:
Thanks to everyone on Face Book and Twitter who stay in touch and read these updates!!

WRITING UPDATE
In Limori, there is a rising chaos. This is the first time in the city's history that powerful merchants and City Magistrates (most descended from the old royal houses) are dealing with Magicians who have prolonged their lives in order to perfect magic. This is the first time Eridians have had both wealth and influence. There will be no easy victory this time, fought only by guards hired by each faction. There will be no behind-closed-doors compromises made.

Sadima, Hahp and Gerrard are still alive... and that's all I can say without spoilers. (trust me, I just tried four or five times to be vague enough and couldn't.)

Thanks for all the messages here and FB and Twitter and my website http://www.kathleenduey.com
Every kind word about my books is wonderful and appreciated.

Taken from a train window on the way to San Luis Obispo....marshes are lovely to me. There are marshes north of Limori's South End. Sistra's mother is buried there. I had no idea how important that would become in the third
book. .....where and how she was buried.

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7 22 2011

Sometimes it is music that shows me how to write a scene. This morning, thanks to Elvis Costello and Fiona Apple for a lesson in immersion, conflict and pain. (and thanks to Richard for sending this to me weeks ago. I have watched it many times since)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiOmhOumh-w

San Luis Obispo train ride...The tracks come so close the the edge of the bluffs...so close .....

bombax blooms!

2011-06-27T07:14:00.000-07:00

bombax flowers begin as green and brown pods that elongate slowly, then erupt overnight into full bloom. This one is in my back yard. Click any of these twice for max enlargement.

The flowers last only a day or two, and I love them even more because of that. I have decided that they grow in Limori, inside the cliffs, in Jux's forest, magically, unnaturally, on command....

Writing updates book #3: 2011

2011-06-21T07:30:00.000-07:00

image copyright Omar Rayyan, 1999

I love this illustration, created for The Unicorn's Secret. It's a series, eight slim books written so that third graders can read it, but almost half the fan mail is from adults. The story came from dreams I had in gradeschool, contiguous dreams that went on for about a year and a half and felt like a second life. Every night I went back to the same place, then, when night fell in the dream, I would go to sleep there and wake up *here*. Writing these books was the beginning of my strong preference for letting the story write itself.

http://www.kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/ for first chapter excerpts.

okay, on to much darker things.....

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Resurrection of Magic book #3---in progress.

Traveling always interrupts my work, but it also provides distance. After a week of teaching writing, I spent the first two days here at home rereading. Here's what I know now. Hahp has passed a point of no return--and he knows it. Gerrard is hiding something, from me, from everyone. Sadima's choices are heartbreaking, logical, impossible. I can only hope.

An acacia tree that died, maybe...didn't.

I have almost 50 solid chapters now, and the time lines are crossing, converging. The city is on the edge of terrible things and the boys in the cliff are almost beyond fear. Almost. I have one more conference next weekend--four days counting planes days--and am taking my Neo with me. Then I have a whole month at home. This is so hard to write. I love these people.

Thanks to everyone getting in touch to ask when the book will be finished. Soon. Probably all too soon...

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6 26 2011

Euphorbias -- the fleshy cactus-like limbs sometimes drop and rot, but the thorns live on and on and on....like bones.

Just returned home from two conferences, back to back. I'm always amazed by the blooming writers in my class sessions and critique sessions. My two-day home-again acclimation is over. The garden is tended, the jet lag is gone and about half of the third Resurrection of Magic book is now sent off to gather early feedback. I will start the day by rereading chapters, listening to my recorders, reading the pile of notes from me to me... and then, probably around noon, I will start writing.

There is so much trouble in the city of Limori. The boys in the cliffs can't hear the shouting or see the guards' hands, always on their sword sheaths. They can't see the beggar children in South End who stand silently, one hand out, afraid to speak, to ask anyone for food...but they can feel something changing, collapsing...

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6 29 2011

between thunderstorms in Florida...

Last night, very late and very sleepy, I might have gotten a glimpse of how things will end. I cried, then smiled, then wrote the notes and filed them. I am a long way from writing those end scenes...but not THAT long...so it's good to have the future revealing itself.

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6 30 2011

I woke up dreading the place I have to start today. Immediate, unscripted, un-outlined writing is all about not letting yourself blink, or run away. I know what will probably happen and I just have to record it accurately whether I am right or wrong.

some trees are like poems

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The backstory in this trilogy is so intricate that I find myself rereading sections of the first two books to check details, to make sure the physical set up of some part of the city is consistent, but then I keep reading far past what I needed to read, notice small things that set me thinking and I finally look up from the book when I realize I am hungry. I am a deep writer. Maybe not an efficient one, though.

But there is THIS:

Karen Bale and I wrote this book for middle grade readers many years ago. It stays in print--and once in a while, gets translated again. This is the brand new German version--a reminder that life and death drama never gets old. Heroism--and the lack of it--play a part in every life.

WIFYR (( Writers and Illustrators for Young Readers conference...))

2011-06-19T10:56:00.000-07:00

I am just back from an WIFYR conference in Utah. I met with my class for five days--four-hour sessions each day. It was the best teaching experience I have ever had. We critiqued as a group and I tried to tell them everything I know--and/or suspect about writing. Writer-bloom filled the room!!!

This is the view from the campus....the colors change with every shift of light, every cloud shadow.

The lovely, incredible and famous King's English
Bookstore was kind enough to hold a pot-luck
dinner for authors and others. The food was so good! The people were wonderful....

and oh, the BOOKS!!!

THE BOOKS...

THE BOOKS!!!
The store is in an old and beautiful neighborhood. There are five or six interesting book rooms, a gorgeous and artsy patio, amazingly informed and helpful staffers and, as befits a premier independent bookstore....an *astounding* range of books.

The faculty http://www.wifyr.com/ was full of people I like and admire, including the brilliant Holly Black, so every meal was a writer-fest.
and .....

I got to see Shannon Hale at The King's English Bookstore!! We once shared a panel in San Antonio and try to keep in touch. She is fun, funny, and one of the nicest people I know.

I am just hoping WIFYR will ask me back. (Are you listening Carol?)

thanks!!!

2011-06-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

this picture was taken in Wisconsin, a state full of odd and lovely trees and very nice people.

Thanks to everyone for writing to me, leaving comments here, getting in touch through FB, Twitter, my website, my publishers, etc. It makes me write better, and sometimes faster. In a few days, I fly to Utah to talk to writers about their work http://www.wifyr.com/ . Then I will be back in CA for three days before I go to join http://www.marjettageerling.com/ and Michelle Burke of Random House publishing and everyone else at http://www.scbwiflorida.com/details.htm.

THEN, SCBWI LA (after all)

After that I have a blank calender until October. I will be chained to my desk during that time--finishing (then revising) the third book of the trilogy. I can't wait to hear your reactions. I think...I hope, it is going to be amazing.

P.S. I think I will be going to SCBWI after all, mostly living in the critique room...!
http://www.scbwi.org/Conference.aspx?Con=8

this picture was taken in Wisconsin, a state full of odd and lovely trees and very nice people.

Resurrection of Magic

2011-05-26T08:51:00.000-07:00

Two stories, 200 years apart. The first story causes the second one.
excerpts and reviews here: http://kathleenduey.com/ya.html

I am writing the third book now.

Rochester NY Teen Book Festival. WOW.

2011-05-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

Heather Brewer, me, Ellen Hopkins

Terry Trueman

Plus twenty- four more teen and tween authors.....and about 4,000 other wonderful people...

Teachers and teens fill the room... Ms. Johnston loves literature!! Her students learn about peanut butter poofs, her family in Germany--and how to read deeper and write better.

....Everyone had a fabulous time at The Rochester Teen Book Festival. We had amazing transportation...a lovely vintage bus, classic cars!!! A marching band and a Drum Corps met us at the gate. There was amazing food, a beautiful campus, a little misty rain, and BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS. (Note to all the teen boys who did not come to the book festival. Look at the above photos carefully. Lots of girls. Smart, interesting, girls. Next year, get on the bus!!)

Check out the art behind Heather and me...even the faculty dinner restaurant was amazing.

YAY Rochester!!! A thousand thanks to Stephanie A. Squicciarini and her amazing staff. Nothing went wrong, EVERY SINGLE THING went right. If you can get to Rochester next year, do it. I am hoping to be there.

writing updates, all projects #2

2011-05-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

What is better than the mile long post Writing Updates 2011? MORE writing updates that pick up where it left off. And this one is important. A weight has lifted. I can now go on with the writing....because...

Yesterday was one of those days that starts with prolonged frustration and continues into headdesk confusion that sends me outside with a shovel to re-arrange the earth.

Then late in the evening it suddenly bloomed into 2000 words that are so right, so perfect, that it was worth the wait. Sadima has made the decision. Not the one I expected, but the one I hoped for. So. This changes everything for her, for me, for the city of Limori.

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5/17/2011

Back from Rochester NY. Traveling is always interesting, and sometimes amazing, even though it interrupts my work. I took manuscript pages with me and read on the planes...and I think the 400 or so pages I have written is good. Maybe really good. So today I am going back to Limori.

The basics: Somiss and Franklin and Sadima and Hahp are all still alive. So is Gerrard. Winter is ending now and Sadima has made the monstrous decision I thought she *wouldn't* make. The angry young men in South End are crossing the line into the city of Limori. Guards are everywhere. Hatred and blame and anger are everywhere, too. The children of the wealthiest people have guards of their own, hired by their anxious parents...and things are getting worse. Sadima is crossing Market Square, walking fast, hoping...

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5/19/2011

It is 7:30 am. I am rocking back and forth in my chair, wishing I knew what was going to happen today. The boys inside the cliffs are facing something deep and true and lethal. The ordeals they have lived through are enough, too much, really, for anyone to endure, but this will be the thing that defeats them. Maybe. They are almost at the point of not caring and that might save them. Maybe.

The photo was taken from a plane window, flying at 37,000 ft. This is Iceland. I was coming home from Dubai and Abu Dhabi school visits. Skin Hunger had just been published. A teacher at one of the schools was the first person to read it and tell me he loved it.

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Hahp knows what he has to do and he knows what it is going to cost him. So do I. Oh, man this is going to be a hard one to write. If I am still coherent by the end of the day, I will add to this and let you know how it went. Blood is involved--and fear.

This was taken from a train window, traveling north along the pacific coast.

This is where I want to be today. But I am not. I am in my office and scared to start writing. But I will. NOW.

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Last night was a blind leap and now I need to read the pages again and see if it is as true as it seemed. I think it will be. I hope so. It is hard when you love the people in the book and you know that not all of them can possibly survive the shitstorm you know is coming. They know it, too.

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May 23 2011

This Aloe bainesii tree is in the front yard ((that isn't a yard. really.))

Yesterday's pages were deep and true and painful. And today I have to get back to the task of tweaking time lines again before I can go on....Hope to be writing new words by about 2:00pm PDS. The next scene is pretty tense...and sometimes that means it won't be anything like I imagined it would be.

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May 26th:

I want to start by thanking everyone who has written to me about my books. You can't imagine what it means to me. I try to answer at least some of the messages. Please know that I am just overwhelmed in projects right now, I appreciate every single word you write. I always have. You would be amazed how much your responses give me courage.

http://kathleenduey.blogspot.com/2011/02/unicorns-secret-new-covers.html
art copyright Omar Rayyan, from The Unicorns Secret:

WRITING UPDATE!
Today, in the troubled city of Limori, something terrible will happen. Hahp won't know about it--he is inside the cliffs, trying to find a way out. Neither will Sadima. She is caught between what is right and what might save someone she loves. But it is going to change both of their lives.

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Hahp is facing a terrible choice this morning, if it is morning. There is no daylight inside the cliffs except inside Jux's forest--if it is a forest. A wizard has pounded on the door, then walked away--so no classes today. Hahp can smell a faint scent of smoke in the stale, still air. That scares him. It should.

This is a tree in the courtyard of the Alamo.
Where people who could have run away stayed and died.
Yes. All the images echo the book one way or another.

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5-26-2011

Yesterday's pages were painful to write. Reading them this morning...what happened makes sense, I can see it as I read it....and the emotional depth was there. I cried again. So....back to work now. I usually clean up the previous day's work, which also gives me a running start.

This epiphyllum didn't bloom last year. I think the rain this winter made it happy enough to blossom. The flowers last a couple days, tops, but they are spectacular, hanging downward at the end of long, flat, leaf-links. This one is about 8 inches across. Within a few days, the flower with shrivel and it will be a scruffy green succulent plant again, plagued by snails, drab and almost invisible to anyone walking past.

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June 1 2011
Inside the cliffs...two people have just been reunited, more or less. One of them is probably not going to live much longer. Outside the cliffs, the city of Limori is seething. And now I will go see what happens next.

I was standing on top of a sea cliff in Hawaii when I took this, looking straight down at the ocean--which is never, ever, still.

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6 3 2011

Sitting here trying to summarize yesterday's writing without a spoiler and this is the best I can do. All this training, all the magic, all the brutality it takes to learn it...changes people forever. It has to. So it is spring in Limori but the flowers are not blooming this year.

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I have started to write this update three or four times, then delete it because the story is entering the last third of the book and anything I say will be a spoiler. So, just the basics: Hahp and Gerrard are alive. Sadima is alive. Everything is changing, partly because of things happening outside the cliffs. As always, it is hard for the boys to tell what is real and what isn't. And there's this: I cried for a long time last night because of the chapter I had just written.

Small World!

2011-05-09T12:50:00.000-07:00

Another thanks to all the people reading my books here at home and outside the US.

A young man from Russia contacted me last week for information for a class presentation. I hope it went well. If you know Anton, tell him hello for me! Anyone can contact me through my website: http://www.kathleenduey.com

visitors:
May 23 2011:

United States, United Kingdom, Israel, Russia, Slovenia ,Taiwan, Canada, Australia, Germany, Georgia, Malaysia, Japan, Australia, Philippines, Arab Emirates, Turkey, Ukraine, Brazil, Poland, South Africa, Romania, Hungary, New Zealand, Singapore, Thailand, France, China, Switzerland!!! Ireland...hello! My great grandparents left there to come here.

Hello to everyone...I wish you all peace, prosperity, and happiness.

A Resurrection of Magic: Balance.

2011-05-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

In my trilogy, A Resurrection of Magic, students are required to do the impossible. Random videos sometimes help me imagine the kind of disciplines learning real magic would include. The line between skill and magic is astonishingly thin.

video:
Balance and magic

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updates on my writing, all projects 2011

2011-04-20T10:36:00.000-07:00

4/20/11
People are asking me to do a writing log again. I am grateful for the suggestion, because these logs help me organize my own days. When I know I have to write it down, I work harder. (really? I am that childish? )

You can scroll to the end of this post and comment or ask me anything. If you are referring to a specific entry, please make it clear which one---including the date is the easiest way to do that.
The only rule: I won't post spoilers.

Here's the current pile of projects, in order of importance, immediacy, current timesuck and whim:

1. Book Three of A Resurrection of Magic is running my life. It has already taken a full year longer than I thought it would to write. There are reasons for the delay that have nothing to with the book itself, but it is complex, massively detailed and intertwined. There are two stories that go back and forth, every other chapter. They are two hundred years apart in book #1 and gradually close the gap in the second book. They are now about 1 year apart. The first story causes the second one. Book #1: Skin Hunger was a National Book Award Finalist. Excerpts are here: http://kathleenduey.com/ya.html

2. Zeep A book for 7-10 year olds. I have written it twice and am now, I think, on the right track. and am writing it in little bursts when I can fit it in. It's FUNNY, which is SUCH a relief from the politics and pain in the Resurrection of Magic books.

3. Free Rat: YA/adult A boy who won't tell me his name living in a near-future timeframe. I am beginning to think he doesn't have a name. He is in a facility where the nights are sometimes endless.

4. A Virgin's Blood: a medieval medical/political YA/adult thriller. Probably next up. Or maybe Free Rat.

5. Dickens and Fob an animation project--or maybe a book idea? All hot air and a detailed proposal at this point but I LOVE the premise and the characters and early responses are encouraging.

6. Faerie Creek Ranch, a historical fantasy for 7-10 year old readers. It is set in Estes Park, Colorado, a place I spent a lot of time growing up. It is with an educational book company now--waiting for judgement. Mainsteam publishers are down on historicals just now.... #cycles

7. Oddlets; a funny and oddly structured little story intended as an ebook series, with enhanced reading stuff built in. It is with someone now who will tell me whether or not I should keep fiddling with it.

8. http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/ a free, twitter-format online novel that I haven't added to in well over a year. But I AM adding to it at home and will post a monster chunk ASAP. Paying work has to come first for now...!!!

9. Limori short stories, for YA/adults, will be listed during the production-wait for Book three.

Daily reports begin tomorrow!!! Or tonight!! Probably tonight! If you comment (please do!) on anything here, date it so I know which post you are talking about...

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4/21/11
I worked late last night, so am just now writing the first new update. It 7:15 am Pacific standard time, California, USA.

Resurrection of Magic ate up the whole day yesterday. Sadima's story stalled so I reread (and revised) about 20 of Hahp's chapters. Now, today, after a long time in Sadima's story, I am ready to switch back to Hahp's. I will likely write his half of the story until it falters, then switch back to Sadima. This has been the pattern since the first book. It will be interesting to see if it changes as the time lines become concurrent. The stories were about 200 years apart in Skin Hunger. That narrowed to about fifteen years apart in Sacred Scars. Now, the stories are only a few years apart.

In the fourth chapter of book #1 Skin Hunger, Hahp is being taken to the academy, flying over the city in a carriage, looking down at his father's amazing Malek Park, the copper roof on the Eridian meeting house, etc. What he saw was the city and the time that Sadima is living in now.

So today, I come back to Hahp's story. The students' isolation from the city of Limori and all that is happening there is complete. They are not aware of the unrest. They can't even guess the season. They can only estimate how long they have been in the cliffs by gaging their own physical growth. Hahp knows they can't even be sure of that, really, because the wizards can and do distort...everything.

So, that's where I start today. If I stall out, I will move on to Zeep. It's always a leap, emotionally, to suddenly be attending third grade with a girl who celebrates Grander Mander Dilla Day with her family. And a relief, sometimes.

But for now, back into the tunnels where Hahp is shivering, waiting for the sound of a pebble thrown at his chamber door so that he will know it's time....

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2/22/11

ZEEP
The morning went to Zeep.  I love her. She says things like this:

"Ok, ok, I know it isn't polite to stare, but what IS polite, really. Even if you are talking quietly and nicely, once in a while you will burp in the middle of it. Or worse. Everyone does. Even our principal. I know that because I heard her once. She pretended it was a cough, but it wasn't. That's kind of like lying, isn't it? "

A RESURRECTION OF MAGIC Book #3
From about noon on, I worked on A Resurrection of Magic #3.

I began the day with Hahp's strand, then, hours later, opened all of the existing 55 files. I make one for each chapter, each with a title summarizing what's inside. This directory and its skeletal reminder of story points saves me a million hours of rereading.

Staring at the directory, thinking about all the things that are upcoming,it seems like the time line can converge earlier than I thought. So that's where I will begin today, making sure I can do that before I go on. Skin Hunger was 64 chapters long. Sacred Scars was 71. All I can say is that the third book is at 55 chapters and there are no endings in sight.

So, back to Limori where the story keeps getting longer....
Sadima is still standing alone in the dark when she hears the voices.

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4/23/11
10:25 pm PST and I am going to bed after a fabulous, amazing day of writing.

I began the day with Dickens and Fob and learned a great deal about a Roman building that is buried beneath a theatre in London. The cast for this story is really interesting to me. Some are kids, the rest are all kinds of things.

Then at noon, I hit the Big Book--#3 in A Resurrectuion of Magic.
I went through 20 chapters, condensing them into 17. Yay! Tomorrow I ought to be able to fly straight ahead again. Rewriting, I heard the all the voices more clearly,too. I think I have been trying to interfere with them lately, trying harder to add pages than I am trying to hear the story. This is a revelation I have had, like, a hundred times and will have again. It's always a mistake for me, to actually write the story instead of listening for it.

I am so ready for tomorrow now, really looking forward to see what happens. The whole city of Limori is uneasy. If you have read the books and remember Thomas Marsham's angry, fiery speeches condemning magic to the Eridians....

...there are other people in Market Square now, speaking to crowds, referring to the magistrates as "The Ferrinidies magistrates" which is true, most of them ARE the descendants of the old kings--but that reminder is stirring up the old hatreds.

Sadima and Hahp are both alive. Sadima has lost something that anchored her...and that worries me. Hahp is trying to recover his hope.

And I am going to bed!

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April 24 writing update

Good morning everyone! I hope all is well with you and your beloveds.

Yesterday was a formative day. I spent hours following Sadima around and writing scenes that won't make the book--and I knew it when I was writing them. But everything she felt matters and will influence the story going forward. So writing those scenes, then summarizing them so that the reader can jump over important but slow emotional changes in her heart---allows me to begin with her decision. Today's work starts like this:

   Sadima spent the bright fall days that followed walking the streets of South End, staring down the crowded alleys, passing the guards as if she carried no secrets, no fear. She looked into every face, every shop window, and tried so hard not to hope--then cried when she stopped hoping. By the time the first snow fell, she had no excuse, no choice. It was time to go back.

And now I can go on.....
This should be an exciting day of writing. Her decision is not the one I expected, but almost every kind of love scars the heart.

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4/24
I woke up this morning, like every morning now, to fan mail. I want to thank everyone who writes to me in the comments here, through FB, Twitter, Simon and Schuster, Penguin, my email box, my website http://kathleenduey.com/ and any other way. If I haven't answered you yet, please read this when you have time, it's a letter from me to YOU: http://bit.ly/e2tiW4

The writing was slow yesterday. Sadima has made a hard, painful decision ONLY because what her heart wants most is almost certainly impossible. But only almost....

As I wrote the scenes that followed her decision, I realized it is the same decision we ALL have to make. What matters? What matters most to you, to the ones you love, and to the ones you will never meet?

Limori is tense, scary, balancing on a knife edge as powerful people wrestle for more power. The men and women on their way to work, opening their shops, the elderly people stealing food and a blanket for the night, the children who live under the boardwalks in South End, the fortunate sons and daughters of Ferrin Hill, scared that they are not allowed to go into Market Square without hired bodyguards now...everyone is wary, waiting, hoping.

So. Back to today's work. Sadima can't run away from any of this anymore... and neither can I.

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4/27/2011
I spend some of each day rereading sections of the first two books...often at random. I almost never read any of my books once they are published, because I see too many things I would tweak a little, or re-write completely. But there are so many details in A Resurrection of Magic, so many tiny threads to weave, that I have to reread as I write.

This morning I reread Sacred Scars Chapter 25, which is Hahp trying to recover from a surreal test that leaves him unsure of...everything. Because I understand Somiss's intent with every test, I know why it is important for Hahp to lose--and then recover--himself. The physics and the psychology of real magic, the cost of learning how to break all the rules, how to do things that are impossible--fascinates me.

People do lots of impossible things:
Wingsuits:
http://vimeo.com/1778399?utm_source=wordtwit&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=wordtwit

Parkour:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x98jCBnWO8w
((Warning: If you aren't an audioslave fan, you might want to turn down your speakers.))

More Parkour, which began in France, but has gone worldwide.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nviRpBf81M8&feature=related
playing tag in the city

And today Hahp begins to learn how to walk through stone. I basically understand what would be necessary on a molecular level....it's the belief that it would work that will be the hardest part. Magic (and wingsuits, and roof leaping) require belief, first and foremost. Belief that it can be done.

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April 28, 2011

Last night's session ended with this:

Sadima is on her knees in a forest, staring up at the cliffs. She is crying, but beneath that, in her deepest, heart, she is relieved, glad--and ashamed.

Hahp is standing in a dark tunnel, watching the impossible. Gerrard's hands on his shoulders, pinning him, holding him back.

The timelines are within about 3 years now, and closing fast...really fast...

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How did it get to be MAY? I feel like I am living in Limori, staggering out to eat and sleep, then coming back to the cliffs, down into the tunnels...

Late in the day yesterday, I wrote a scene in Sadima's story that rattled the windows. It went entirely differently than I thought it would. So today will begin with her strand of the book again, so that I can see if she meant it, if everything hereafter needs to be painted differently than I have been assuming it would be. I am almost positive she is not going to rethink this.

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May 3rd, 2011
Today is the second day of condensation...of Sadima's strand. Not cutting content, just saying it in less words...because she needs to catch up, to be in the right place at the right time. Sometimes just being there...really matters.

((thanks, readers from Germany, for visiting me here!!)

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May 5th 2011

I am still condensing, looking at the time lines and checking continuity issues. All of this rereading is generating a lot of character revelations. They are not so much talking to me as screaming at me.

Sadima is torn between doing what she must and doing what she wants.

Hahp has passed a tipping point. Fear is so familiar that he no longer recognizes it as fear, really. The wizards are so good at this...

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5/7/2011
Late last night, I wrote a pivotal scene, one that made me cry. The courage, the bonds between the boys inside the cliffs--the trust they have managed to build in that insane place...just hit me.

There have been classes of boys in that rat-maze of tunnels off and on over many centuries. The magicians of old often stole children from the streets, and sometimes from their homes.

Somiss was the first to involve the sons of wealthy families, often families who were once royalty. He is building alliances, of course, and readying for a war he knows will come eventually. The difference between Somiss and all the magicians who came before him is fundamental. They wanted to protect their knowledge, their libraries, and their influence for the use of those who would follow them--even those with grossly extended lives knew they would die one day. Somiss has other plans.

Hello, Aliscckka Fluturaşi

2011-04-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am the writer! I am so thrilled to have my books translated into German!

South End

2011-04-17T11:27:00.000-07:00

This is a building that was in San Antonio TX USA. It was being torn down when I photographed it.

It is now in South End, a slum where several people in my Resurrection of Magic books live. It has also become the setting of some short stories I am writing.

Backstory:
Captive children broke all the windows on the first floor and many of the smallest ones escaped.

The remainder were marched up steep stairs to the third floor-- and locked in without food for seven days as punishment.

On the first night, they found two stones and began chipping at the walls-- taking turns so that the stones were never idle.

On the fourth night, they tied together all of their clothing and descended safely, scattering like South End rats, then, without discussion or promises, they stopped running and reassembled, shivering in the cold, free, a family of sorts, bonded by misery and hope. The short stories will be built around their lives after that night....

HOBBIT!!!

2011-04-14T10:47:00.000-07:00

The hobbit was my favorite part of the Lord of the Rings, so I am VERY excited about this:

video here: http://www.thehobbitblog.com/

A Resurrection of Magic--the art of centering intent

2011-04-13T09:02:00.000-07:00

Borrowing vids from the amazing Michael Moschen to illustrate how I see what the wizards call "a still point" held deep inside the body that preserves both some humanity and sanity. Hahp is juggling a lot more than balls, of course. He thinks of his own still point as the quiet place--the only place where he can sometimes believe that he is alive.

Snakes, Games...Sources...

2011-04-13T08:06:00.000-07:00

Vintage boardgame from Oxford digital library collection shared online @ http://bit.ly/hQFLph.

I am borrowing the basic concept of this antique snake game for the Limori Academy--the idea is to navigate the course while avoiding the snake and other pitfalls.
But in the dark.
The Somiss version.

Book Signings

2011-04-11T16:26:00.000-07:00

I got a note today from a woman thanking me (like, five times) for signing a book for her husband. She wanted me to know how much it meant to him to have my good wishes and signature on his 35th birthday.

I don't know if most people realize what a joy it is to be asked to sign a book. That little bit of ink confirms the transcendence the written word. It acknowledges the bond between writer and reader, the connection of separate generations and complete strangers, the writer's effort and the almost unbelievable power of literacy. So if you ever want a book signed, I would LOVE to. I will feel honored and I always have 6-10 fine tip sharpies in the back pack.

THE FAERIES' PROMISE

2011-03-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

For young readers (and all the adults who send me fan mail for this series and The Unicorn's Secret)... I love you!

There is a shiny new addition to The Faeries Promise series today...
Book Two, Wishes and Wings .

You can read excerpts from all four books here : http://www.kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/

book one in the series

real things in my books

2011-03-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

For anyone who wonders what the coat/key rack in Sadima's hidden room above the warehouse looks like: This is it. It hung on the wall of my grandfather's flour mill for as long as he lived. I think he brought it with him from Tennesee, but I can't be sure. I was fascinated with it when I was little. I remember pulling a chair up so I could get closer to the dragons. If you click the picture, you can too.

The lantern on the right is an old miner's lantern I used when I lived in a tipi until I could afford a Coleman. It became Sadima's lantern. The copper kitchen tools are from a garage sale years ago. The scarf was bought in Dubai when I was there to do school visits. The bag came from a discount store in Chelsea, NYC. All of these things belong to Sadima now. The Hame-harness breast plate side-piece with the brass knobs came out of an abandoned and rotting/literally/ tilting barn I stumbled across hiking in Steamboat Springs CO. It isn't in the book yet but yesterday I remembered that I once picked it up to walk through a dark house to investigate an odd noise, thinking, I am ARMED....

Real people in my books

2011-03-12T11:19:00.000-08:00

These cups belonged to my great aunt. I, who never played tea party or dolls, somehow ended up with a cabinet full of her travel-treasures, many of them dishes and gravy boats and little painted tea pots. She died when I was six or seven, I think, so I don't have the stories to go with them.

She had an automatic crank-up card shuffler, too, and cheated like crazy. I loved her apartment in Denver, crowded with her collections, incense, furnished with expensive old stand-alone cabinets and divans with curved pecan wood feet.

She was funny, adventurous, wry, elegant and nice to me. Really elegant, and really nice. This morning I wrote her into the third Resurrection of Magic book. It's a bit part, but I know she will like it.

SKYPE is fun!!!

2011-03-09T17:50:00.000-08:00

Another great library visit with teens and tweens, this one in Colorado. It was lovely. No airplanes were involved.

Please get in touch, teachers, book clubs, librarians, writer's groups, bookstores... In person is better, I know, but this is POSSIBLE!!!

Contact me here, FB, @kdueykduey (twitter), kathleenduey at earthlink dot net (email) or through my website http://www.kathleenduey.com

Writing about writing....again.

2011-03-03T10:22:00.000-08:00

Writers: I have been writing about writing in my free time, here and there, for years. Someday it will be a book. What parts of writing are difficult for you? What stops you, confounds you. Comment here, please, and help me spend the ink where it is most needed.

Thanks!

WHY I TWEET

2011-02-18T08:40:00.000-08:00

Twitter was made to fill a corporate need: a device that required short, hourly updates from every member of a production team. If the brochure designer tweeted that he was waiting on something, the rest of the group could switch tasks or redirect energy efficiently. Brilliant time saver. Everyone on the same page, all the time.

Some people use it in almost the same way now. They can tweet once and have it reach 20 (or 200 or ?) family or group members at once. It has massive potential as a disaster rescue tool, an aggregator of information from the ground up--and citizen communication.

There are journalists on twitter who retweet (gather and send out to their followers) a constant stream of mobile and other tweets by citizens in the streets of the world, dealing with local crises. This week there is much news from Bahrain and Yemen and Egypt and elsewhere.

the # hashtag mark denotes topics and allows you to occupy a space filled with people who are addressing that topic, 140 characters at a time. They argue, they convince, they share solutions, they support each other, they make joyous human noise. Free.

#writer
# Oscars
# knitting
#kidlit
# Egypt
# the band/actor/celebrity of your choice
#amwriting
Or, this morning, # Wisconsin

Image taken in Rabat, Morocco

THE UNICORN'S SECRET NEW COVERS

2011-02-11T09:24:00.000-08:00

art by the amazing Sandara Tang

CLICK art to enlarge image...

This series is based on dreams I had--night after night--in third/fourth grade. Lord Dunraven's lands were as real to me as my own life.There is a second series now, set in the same place: The Faeries Promise.

Excerpts of both are up here: http://www.kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/

Scene openings

2011-02-05T20:36:00.001-08:00

Scene openings

I am writing the third book of this trilogy now. There are two protagonists and two timelines. In one story, about 8 years will pass. In the other, about 200 years go by. So it gets complicated at times. The chapters tend to be short overall, but I use chapter length as a way to brighten or dim the spotlight a little, guiding the reader back and forth when emphasis is needed on one thread or the other.

One of the constant concerns is pacing. Because the short chapters range from 5-9 pages the events have to be compressed to fit, and sometimes I realize I have made two--or even three--chapters out of something that really only needed one.

So I spent this morning turning twenty chapters in one of the storylines into fifteen chapters, by combining chapter content and changing the emphasis points--and re-polishing the little cliff-hangers at the end of each chapter. But more than anything, I eliminated re-descriptions of things the reader already knows I had used as set-ups to more compelling stuff.
The story rolls so much better now.

It can be useful for any writer to reread each chapter and see what it really brings to the story. If the event you are excited to write occurs in the middle of the night, after the protagonist comes home from spending time with someone that you know they are slowly going to come to love, it might be worth painting a full scene with that person, then letting the protagonist get ready for bed thinking about the evening...and then be awakened by whatever the midnight surprise scene is.

But if the protagonist spends the evening with people less important in her/his life, and the reader already knows what their roles are in the protagonist's world and is equally familiar with the physical layout of the apartment or house or campground (or whatever) consider a chapter opening that has almost no set up:

quick example: ** (this is not from the book in progress, just examples I am making up now...)
For a moment, Jenny thought the pounding was imagined, part of a dream. Then she thought it was coming from the street. She sat up in bed, confused and scared, tangled in the sheets, finally awake enough to understand that the banging was close, meant for her, and not muted by skin or flesh. Someone was pounding her door with something metal, someone was trying to break it down.

As opposed to:
Jenny got home late and took a shower to relax after another long day at work. Gregory had been tedious as always and sometimes she wondered how she could stand to work there, but she knew she had to. Nothing had changed. She had to support herself now. It look a long time for her to go to sleep, then, in the middle of the night, someone pounded on the door. For a moment....etc.

To everyone who has gotten in touch....

2010-11-29T10:53:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning trying to think of a way to say thank you....
....to everyone who has written to me through http://www.kathleenduey.com , facebook, twitter, etc. I have been trying to answer each one of you, and have to finally admit that I am probably too far behind to ever catch up.
Ever.

It’s amazing. YOU are amazing. I have heard from people all over the US and Canada, the UK, France, Germany, Poland, the Philippines, Australia, New Zealand, Russia, Belize, Brazil, Mexico, Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Morocco, Turkey, China, North Korea, Chile, …and all of you will get a link to this message soon. If you have written me from a place I have not mentioned, contact me, and I will add it.

If you want updates on my work once or twice a year, please email me: kathleen duey at earthlink dot net. You will be the first to know what’s up next and how it’s going. I start almost every day by reading messages from readers. Your letters are a treasure. They make me write better (and sometimes faster). What you have written makes me smile and laugh and sometimes cry.

It’s always wonderful to hear someone say they love my books. People write to me asking questions about Sadima, Hahp, Gerrard, and all the others in ways that make me feel like they are people we both know and sometimes worry about. The city of Limori is very real to me, too, and yes, I do know more about it than I will ever fit into three books.

Thanks to everyone who thinks that a book about Eridies might be interesting. It might be. To everyone writing to ask about Russet: I am accumulating entries again will post them soon. http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/

I love to hear from teens who say they hate reading but they liked my books anyway and stayed up late because they couldn’t stop reading.

Older Adults have written to tell me that even though the books are for Young Adults, they stay up too late reading them too.

LOTS of people have suggestions as to how Somiss needs to die. All I can say is, we'll see...

Librarians often say there are waiting lists for the books! School librarians write to say the added them to their collections and hope the censorship loving parents don’t notice.

One teen reader, recovering from a terrible accident, wrote to tell me that the books took her “out of the hospital, away from the pain". Another girl thanked me for the Eridians and said that her friends were like that, they carried as much of her sorrow as they could. Teen book clubs have written asking me really deep questions about the stories and the characters. I have recently gotten Skype and look forward to being part of book club and library discussions.

Some people write to ask WHERE TO BUY THE BOOKS.
In the US:
Most bookstores carry them and any bookstore can order them for you and have them in a few days.
Indiebound http://www.indiebound.org/ is a portal into the wonderful world of America’s independent booksellers. Type in the book title upper right and you can order it from a local bookstore in your area. All the online stores carry the books: Amazon, Barns&Noble, Borders, etc.

Internationally: Skin Hunger and Sacred Scars have been translated into:
German: http://bit.ly/h9w1S2
French: http://www.castelmore.fr/
Polish: (coming soon)
UK English (ok, not really translated, but some expressions and words changed)

If you want UK English versions of *any* book: http://www.bookdepository.com/
They have fair, low prices, and ship to most of the world... free.

Thanks for all the people who have written to tell me there are no ebook versions yet. I know. There will be, probably in 2011.

Everyone (almost) asks me when the third book will come out. After a LOT of interruptions (some of them self-inflicted) I am writing all day every day on book three. As soon as it tells me its name, I will tell YOU. I hope to finish it (including the revisions, etc, by the end of summer 2011. After that, it will take most of a year to produce the hardcover. I know. I apologize. I am trying hard to make it incredibly good.

Valid Excuses:
1. These are complex books and the details take time.
2. I have had to write other things, including books for younger kids, which I also love doing.

Whines:
1. I want the last one to be so good that I am afraid of it, a little. Which doesn’t sound like a very good excuse for taking so long, but it is, in an odd way.

Thank you ALL for writing to me, thank you for reading this. I send you all my very best wishes and may the coming new year bring you all good things.

Washington Post's annual word-repurposing contest.

2010-11-22T10:35:00.000-08:00

I look forward to this every year...

The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

And the winners are:

1. Coffee, n. The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted, adj. Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained.
3. Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade, v. To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly, adj. Impotent.
6. Negligent, adj. Absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a nightgown.
7. Lymph, v. To walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle, n. Olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence, n. Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash, n. A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle, n. A humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude, n. The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster, n. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism, n. The belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent, n. An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men

I am thinking about writing a book about writing.

2010-11-06T14:49:00.000-07:00

I have two monster deadlines to meet. After that, or during that, somehow, I am thinking very seriously about writing a book about writing. One that addresses both art and craft and treats them as lovers, partners, siblings, fraternal twins, BFF's.

I spent last week interacting with an MFA class whose teacher is a friend (the amazing Bonny Becker) and realized from the questions and my attempt to answer them.....that maybe there is a reason for me to write a book about writing.

!!!AND!!! if I released it as a download-only, I would have very little tree-guilt.

(((This is the French Edition of Skin Hunger,
just released....)))

A former slave writes his master--this just caught my heart.

2010-10-25T13:03:00.000-07:00

I checked snopes and other places and this appears to be real.

Jourdan Anderson

Annotation Jourdon Anderson, an ex- Tennessee slave, declines his former master's invitation to return as a laborer on his plantation.

1865 Text Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865

To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter and was glad to find you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Col. Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again and see Miss mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville hospital, but one of the neighbors told me Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here; I get $25 a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy (the folks here call her Mrs. Anderson), and the children, Milly, Jane and Grundy, go to school and are learning well; the teacher says grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday- School, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated; sometimes we overhear others saying, "The colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to was, to call you master. Now, if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free- papers in 1864 from the Provost- Marshal- General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you are sincerely disposed to treat us justly and kindly- - and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty- two years and Mandy twenty years. At $25 a month for me, and $2 a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to $11,680. Add to this the interest for the time our wages has been kept back and deduct what you paid for our clothing and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams Express, in care of V. Winters, esq, Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night, but in Tennessee there was never any pay day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up and both good- looking girls. You know how it was with Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve and die if it comes to that than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood, the great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

<>P.S. -- Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,

Jourdon Anderson
Source: Cincinnati Commercial, reprinted in New York Tribune, August 22, 1865.

Unicorns and faeries, oh my!

2010-10-01T16:14:00.000-07:00

The new Unicorn's Secret covers are really lovely.

And the Faerie's Promise books are beautiful, too. Thanks Sandara Tang!!!

first chapter excerpts here http://www.kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/

Zombies vs Unicorns

2010-09-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

Unicorns are fascinating. They are mysterious, shy, rare, and beautiful. Many of the of the old stories say they had the ability to heal, which has always fascinated me. They are in the folk tales and mythology of almost every part of the world–and so are Zombies.

When Holly Black contacted me about writing a short story for the anthology she and Justine Larbalestier were planning : http://pages.simonandschuster.com/zombiesvsunicorns ..... I was thrilled to be included. I was team unicorn, of course! I had written stories about unicorns for young readers, and I was excited to write the darker side of unicorns for teens and YA readers. Once I started the story, it dragged me into deeper and darker explanations of how the ability to heal might shape a unicorn’s life, his ethics, his needs. It became far darker than I could have imagined.

It is the possibility of both darkness and light that make unicorns awesome. As much as I love zombies (and I DO) they are always more or less the same. How people deal with them, survive them, escape/hide/destroy—mourn the friends who become zombies—all of that is interesting and exciting, yes. It can make for great books and films and TV shows about how human beings react when zombies stumble into their towns and cities. But unicorns aren’t that simple. If you saw one leaping across an intersection, or hiding in the woods, you wouldn’t know how to react, whether to be scared or astonished or grateful or crazy or...?. The old tales are vague and varied and ancient. There are just so many things we don’t know about unicorns...

Central Coast Writers' Conference, San Luis Obispo, CA

2010-09-20T10:45:00.000-07:00

It was FUN. It was wonderfully well run and I learned a great deal! I also got to take a train ride, which is always a plus for me. This train-window shot is worth enlarging just to see the color of the water. It was a cloud/sun day, so it changed constantly....

DragonCon, oh, DragonCon....

2010-09-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

DragonCon is a huge event that is much like a small city, assembled within a big city, if that small city had to be built and inhabited overnight, and could exist for only four days a year....and if it were populated with an explosively creative citizenry of all ages, including pre-natal and post octogenarian.

There is, every year, a blood drive near the YA track rooms. Vampires line up next to corsetted and begoggled Steam-Punkers, Elves, Zombies, Jokers, Storm Troopers, and the astounding variety of one-of-a-kinders.

There are more and more Steam Punk costumes. The men are gadget-encrusted, carrying weapons of infinite copper/bronze/leather/lens/and goggle design. The woman are mostly Victorian ....lovely corsetted gowns with modern twists here and there. But I saw a few like this one...a woman actually dressed for the kind of adventure Steam Punk books usually contain. I have a Steam Punk novel banging on the door. I look forward to writing it.

There are no bad words....I am almost sure.

2010-09-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

I got two very thoughtful, very kind, messages this past week telling me that my Resurrection of Magic books are well written, absorbing, and very hard to put down, but that "foul language" was an issue for both readers. If you have read the books, skip the next section. If not, you might want to skim it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There are two stories in the Resurrection of Magic books--and two protagonists. The narratives go back and forth every other chapter. The stories are set about 200 years apart and the first story causes the second one:

First story: Sadima is a damaged, gentle person trying to make sense of herself and a young man she loves—even though he is tangled up in the rage and ambition of a fanatic who is intent on re-discovering magic and changing the world at any cost.

Second Story: Hahp is trying to survive (200 years later) in the decaying and brutal academy that is eventually founded by Sadima’s companions. It is a strange and terrible place. Hahp, 11 years old at the story's beginning, often uses the world "crap" in the first book and uses f-word twice. In the second book, (just over 550 pages long ) he uses the F-word fifteen times--about once every thirty six pages--and the word "crap" only twice. He has outgrown it, I think, and/or it no longer provides the rage and terror release it once did.

Both stories are terrifying at points, emotionally realistic--a portrayal of uncontrolled ambition and fanaticism and the universally human inequity of power and magic. The two stories gradually weave together: in the third book the time difference narrows to synchronicity, almost 200 years having passed by the end of Sadima’s story and about 7 in Hahp’s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neither of the people who wrote me made a single comment about the ordeal of either character, even though both are nearly destroyed by what happens to them. The books are very dark. Both readers were bothered by specific words Hahp used. All the “language” issues are in Hahp’s story, I am almost certain. Sadima copes with her experiences in other ways.

One person said it was impossible to recommend the books because she would be embarrassed if friends found out she had read them. Reading the third book when it comes out would be impossible, too, she said, so she would have to "make up an ending" to the “amazing” story because of the “profanity”. She closed with "I won't read the next one for fear of the same bad language." If she had used any word but *fear* I probably wouldn’t be writing this.

The second writer said she couldn’t wait to read the third one and explained that it was a single word that bothered her most (for clarity, it starts with F, rhymes with truck, was said 15 times in a 550 page book, or about once every 36 pages.. She said she had read a lot of books for teens and that few if any used that word. (this is not my experience, but maybe I pick dark books) She wanted me to realize that a great tale can stand on its own without foul language.

I agree.
Completely.
Unless it is what the character would say.

I try hard to stay out of the way and to accurately record what happens. I never give the use of language by any character ten seconds thought. As loopy as it will sound to people who don’t write books, I never restrict the language of my characters: I have no right to do so. And I need to admit that if Hahp had even once said "Gosh, this is terrible," I would have canned him as a shallow and souless protagonist unworthy of the book and its readers and I would have held another casting call.

So here is my very respectful response to two people who could not have been more respectful to me in bringing up an issue that genuinely disturbs them both:

My own opinion is that words are words. There aren't good or bad ones. All exist because they were useful to human speakers for one reason or another. Some carry huge emotional freight…sometimes. Others don't. Many words, spoken or shouted with anger and/or hatred, can hurt. They can also sometimes ease the heart of the shouter, prop up courage, or announce a line drawn, hope abandoned, hope reclaimed, and so much more. They can build a proud wall between a bruised heart and bottomless despair. The use of words to communicate with ourselves and others is not a simple issue and it is a deeply personal one.

Interestingly, Hahp is using much less strong language in book #3—at least so far. He is older now, almost 16, and has seen more inhumanity that I ever will. He doesn't seem to need to prove/announce/prop-up his courage like he did a couple years ago. Yet anyway. He has nearly drowned in random and deliberate cruelty and confusion, and he has found a way forward in spite of it. He is a decent, fair person in a sea of brutality and has faced decisions that would torture anyone of any age.

I admire him.
I don’t care what words he uses to describe his story.
I just want him to survive.

Ellen, Humble TX,censorship, and something even worse.

2010-08-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

My friend Ellen Hopkins was recently invited--then un-invited--to speak to students in Humble TX. Authors' reactions have been thoughtful and varied. Many--not all--of the other authors who had agreed to be part of the event have dropped out in support of Ellen and her work, and in opposition to censorship. They have written about their reactions:
Tera Lynn Childs
Pete Hautman
Matt de la Pena
Melissa de la Cruz
Ellen herself:

Ellen is often targeted by people who are convinced her realistic portrayal of teens, their problems, and the consequences of their choices are too....realistic? Her enormous popularity among teens and Young Adult readers argues that her words ring true and resonate with them. She is not alone. Many of the authors teens love best have censorship challenges all too often.

One of the most troubling things for me about this situation is that it sounds like one librarian alerted 2 or 3 parents, who then contacted the superintendent of schools. Oh, how I would like to be able to hear that first conversation. But however it went, the superintendent could have reacted by raising the question of Ellen's appearances for general discussion by all involved--including Ellen, people who have heard her speak at schools, and all the students and their parents. If he had, my guess is that the ayes would have drowned out the nays very quickly.

AND...while people debated and settled on some compromise, everyone would have had a chance to think about and talk about all the issues involved. But like so many administrators before him, the superintendent ducked. So the librarian and her like-minded parents silenced an author who has--without scolding, preaching, or patronizing, has helped countless kids understand that their choices are real, ongoing, *will* shape their lives. The most concerned parents could have been given an alternative author, or could have been transported by their parents to a school with a less controversial speaker. Lessons of all kinds about free speech and democracy and personal choices would have been learned by everyone involved.

But no.
The superintendent ducked.
I can imagine his work load, the headache he got after the phone call, the staff he doesn’t have to handle things like this. But he is in charge of a school district. This was a massive teachable moment and he opted instead to write an email un-inviting Ellen and that was supposed to be the end of it. A decision was made by a few adults that effected thousands of students and their parents without any of them even knowing it was being made.
That isn’t just censorship, it is something far worse.

The future of the future?

2010-08-16T11:12:00.000-07:00

Almost every writer I know sets Google alerts for her/his name and book titles. I do. I want to hear what people are saying about my books. Lately, the alerts have directed me to illegal download sites as well as the usual blog reviews, bookclub discussions and fan comments. As of this morning, I have seen stats claiming that my Resurrection of Magic books have been downloaded over 60,000 times.

Free.
Wow.
I am not a cave-dwelling preservationist, I am a futurist. I am fascinated with the rapid-change era I live in and can easily see many human advantages to being able to access all the arts free of payment. But…wow. So I whined a little on Twitter. ((One of the many good things about Twitter is that even whining must be brief.))

I tweeted that I'd spent the morning a little sad over downloads. Neil Gaiman , a writer I admire a great deal, a man who has 1,480,401 (so far) people who follow his every word and drown him in tweets, somehow noticed and answered my whine:

Neilhimself @kdueykduey I don't mind downloads. I figure nobody who's going to buy something won't, and it just makes readers. Your mileage may vary.

Which is pretty much what I think when I can stop multiplying my royalty rate by 60,000 and let my brain kick in again. It's easier for Neil to say because of his income level, but I think he's right. I also think there is no turning back so I intend to look forward. Cory Doctorow, ((a visionary SF author, journalist, BigBrain, and very nice guy)) drove his publishers crazy putting up whole books to download on his website. But then his book sales went up. WAY up. Word of mouth matters.

So here’s the deal. If you download my work for free, and you like it, do me a favor.
Talk about it.
Tell everyone you know how interesting and odd the books are.
I promise to write more.

Then, consider getting the next book at your local library--also free, and a great place to meet the other reader-teens in your area. Camp by the YA section and see what happens. And when you are happily dating someone who is both hot and your intellectual equal...

Go here:
http://www.kathleenduey.com/
click “contact”
And thank me.

The picture is of Volubilis, the southernmost limit of ancient Roma, as far south as they ever got, in what is now Morocco. They did not have free, stolen, downloads but figured out much worse ways to screw over their artists.

writingwritingwriting

2010-08-13T09:24:00.000-07:00

I have a very good excuse for not posting here lately No. Wait, I have TWO very good excuses.

The first one is that I am writing like a maniac and you will thank me for that later, I think, because the third book of the trilogy is getting amazing....

Second, I am traveling a lot and had to deal with a nasty flu after my last trip. I am almost completely over it YAY.
It was *awful*.

Back to work,
(me, I mean, you are free to play if you like)

WRITING UPDATES w/writing insights

2010-06-21T13:16:00.000-07:00

NEWEST ENTRY July 6

People have asked me to write a project log again and to incorporate writing insights if I can. I appreciate the suggestion. I am so wrapped up in the current book projects that I have neglected le blog.

NO SPOILERS will be included.

Several book projects will be represented.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 6 2010: Beautiful Writing and Something Even Better:

For me, the best books have always been the ones that let me forget I am reading. I love beautiful writing, the grace of the unexpected and perfect word, the dance of language. I am a fan of the goofy-smart-ass-hyphenate. But I love beautiful writing most when it isn't so flashy that it requires me to stop and admire it--and its author. If I am admiring (and probably envying) the writing, I have remembered I am reading, that this place and these people aren't real.

I can imagine the writer's joy at finding that perfect sentence and I can carefully re-read that astounding description of a house, a torn glove, a rainstorm. But if I have stepped out of the story to appreciate awesome facility of language, then I have probably lost the vague ache in my heart, the one echoing the protagonist's ache.

Chances are I will flip back a few pages to read another lovely bit of writing I had noticed, but that hadn't stopped me in my tracks and I can only now fully appreciate. And from there I might reread the bio on the jacketflap, then set the book down, remembering that I have a deadline, a dinner to start, a dog to bathe.

There are nearly infinite kinds of beautiful writing. I love them all, but I prefer the ones that don't interfere with the story. It is one of my current writing goals: I want to write literary page turners. To that end, this morning, I cut a scene by more than half. This is what made the cut (so far anyway, this is second draft text:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking light-footed, almost running in the moonlight, she was halfway up the hill when she saw a lantern in the window and knew Sully was awake. Good. But then the door banged open and she heard someone stumbling down the steps, someone tall, doubled over, making a hoarse, sucking sound that terrified her. Eric?

She stopped, staring as Sully pounded across his porch, vaulted the rail and hit the ground running. He was fast enough to get one strong arm around his son's shoulders. For an instant she felt a twist of hope, then realized Eric was limp, folding up. She winced when Sully lost his balance and sat down hard in the dirt, still trying to straighten the tangle of legs and arms, to hold Eric close. When he couldn’t, Sully arched backward, screaming at the sky until his breath was gone. Then he sorted out the mess and began to rock what was left of his boy. She sat down in the wet grass to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday, June 20, A Resurrection of Magic, Book #3 (which will not yet tell me its name)

Started reading from the beginning to make sure the dual pacing works before I go on. Adding a chapter in one story means I have to add one in the other story and that can be maddening because the stories interlock...sometimes...and are on sliding timelines, Sadima's is MUCH longer than Hahp's.

I stalled on the first chapter of Hahp's story as I eliminated what has to be the 10th layer of my desperate attempt to fill in the backstory. There is no better argument for "show don't tell" than the first 2-4 chapters of any trilogy book, especially #3.

Here are two excerpts;
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Sadima's story is the odd-numbered chapters, Hahp's are the even numbers.
Chapter 2 (My first draft of Hahp, written many months ago: )

I could hear Gerrard's breathing, steady, quiet, as if nothing had happened, nothing that mattered enough to keep him awake. He had said more than once that he was a South End orphan. And at first, I had been sure he was lying. How would an orphan end up here, in the most expensive academy in Limori? And why would a beggar boy know how to read? Reading had been forbidden for commoners for most of the city's history. Now the high price of education accomplished the same goal. Commoners couldn't read; beggar boys least of all. But if Gerrard was lying, why had he smelled like South End--like fish and sweat--on our first day here?

My father had taken me to the slum of South End only a few times. It stank. The ragged children pressed up against the carriage as the pony began to trot, his head high, ready to fly when the coachman loosened the reins. The children were pleading, holding out their dirty hands, begging us for a coin. My mother wept. My father ignored them like a stable hand ignores flies, like he ignored me. Did he ever think about me now? Or was he too busy overseeing his ships, his fortune--busy being cruel to his servants, his wife.

I turned over, then back again, wishing the wizards would just punish us. Or at least indicate somehow that they had found proof of what we had done.(altered). But they had never concerned themselves with helping anyone get through anything. They withheld food, over and over, not caring when some of the students died. And if what Somiss had said was true--all the parents had known they might never see their sons again. So no one cared about me. Not even my own father.

Gerrard stirred, then quieted. I turned my head toward his cot and realized I was had been staring into the darkness. I closed my eyes again. The little chamber seemed even quieter than usual. But everything here was hushed, every birdsong, every wolf's cry, every storm was silenced by the endless passages that wormholed the dark stone cliff. I had seen the sun only once since my father had brought me here--the day Jux allowed me to fly. I still longed to do it again. Just once more, before the wizards decided to kill all of us. And they would. They would have to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As it reads this morning:

Chapter 2

It was pitch dark. I could hear the mouse still trying to find a way out. I had made it a bigger box, but it hadn’t helped. I hated the sound of its toenails on the blood-flecked wood. I just wanted to let it go, but I was afraid to.

I fed it fruit, cheese, and bread. I always brought back more than I needed from the food hall and I always left it in plain sight. Gerrard hadn't touched it. He was stick-thin and I was almost sure he wasn’t eating anything. He was the only one who hadn’t yet passed the last test, except Luke, but that hardly mattered now.

Gerrard stirred beneath his blanket. I heard his cot ropes creak, then the easy rhythm of his breathing.
He was sound asleep.

I hated him for that. I hadn’t slept through the night in a long time. And once I was awake, I felt lost in the stone passages that wormholed the cliff. I felt the silent pressure of the still, stale air. And I couldn’t stop remembering.

The wizards had taught us that. Memory—exact, detailed memory. So I could see Luke, his face half in lamplight, half in darkness. I could count the beads of sweat on his forehead. And I could hear the sound of my own voice, soft, calm, sincere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 24:

Working on two things today, the third of the Resurrection of Magic trilogy and a young MG novel I am still struggling to find a voice for. Yesterday I took half a day to do a ms consult for someone I met at a conference in FL. She is a good writer and a lovely person. The missing ingredient in her story was a firm point of view in the text. I see this a lot. Here is the 10 second demo (not excerpts from current work, I am making these up) why VP is usually better:

   Narrator's voice:
         The air was hot and damp. The clouds were so thick it was eerie. It looked like the kind of rainstorm that usually meant spectacular lightning and thunder, but this time it wouldn't. Tory and James both knew they had no time to rest. They would either make it to Franklin's Bend before the storm hit or everything they were doing, everything Greg had done, would be for nothing. Faces beaded with sweat, they kept going, dropping back into a plodding jog to catch their breath, then running again. When James couldn't keep up, Tory went on, glancing only once at the unatural, darkening sky.

Same Scene, Tory's voice:
       Tory's eyes stung from the salt in her own sweat. James was slowing down. She could hear his heavy footsteps behind her, the sharp gasping of his breath. She dropped back to a jog again. She had no idea how much farther Franklin's Bend was, but it didn't matter. If James couldn't keep up, she would have to leave him behind. She had to get there in time to warn everyone to stay inside, to make them understand this wasn't a rainstorm. If she didn't, Greg would be just one more casualty instead of a hero who had died to save everyone he loved.
       Tory refused to cry. This was the only gift she could give her brother now. She wiped her face on her sleeve and broke back into a run. She heard James shout, but she kept going . When she finally glanced up at the sky, she almost stumbled. The storm was coming in fast, straight overhead, and the clouds were black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 26, 2010

Another show-don't-tell example--even when you are working in an insanely massive backstory, it's better to show and imply:

Bad first version:

    Sadima missed South End sometimes. The Eridian meetings in the little apartment over Charlies' cheese shop had saved her life, her heart. For the first time since his death, she had been able to laugh, to cry--at least for a while. She knew it was only a matter of time before the women who had become her sisters realized that she wasn't getting older. Once they did, they would know that magic had been worked upon her. She was doing everything she could to keep them from noticing, using the khol she had bought in South End and wearing drab clothes. But they would notice, evenually. She could only hope that they wouldn't blame her for it, that the friends she loved wouldn't hate her for what she could not even remember.

She got up and set about her chores...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Current, better (not final yet) version:

    Sadima put kindling into her woodstove, stirring the ashes, baring the hot coals, and opened the flue wide. Then she carried her kitchen bucket out to the well. Coming back, she heard children’s voices, high-pitched, happy, and a moment later, the sound of someone whistling, walking the path that ran past her little house. The settlement was waking up. She belonged here. Whatever she couldn’t remember mattered less than her love for this place and these people. Far less.

Back inside, the fire crackling, Sadima warmed water to wash her face. While her skin was still wet, she dabbed moistened kohl around her eyes to make grayish shadows. Looking into her little mirror, she squinted a hundred times to make natural looking lines as the khol dried, then used a light dusting of finely ground chalk to pale her rosy cheeks and lips. As she buttoned her modest gray dress and assumed the hunched posture she wore all day, she forced herself to think about things she had pushed aside. She had debts to pay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excuses, Excuses...

2010-06-12T08:22:00.000-07:00

Three people have emailed this week to make sure I am all right. Four or five more have written missives asking me when I will get to whatever it was I said I would do...months ago. Russet http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/ fans are asking when that story will continue. ((Soon, soon.))

My first book cover,
copyright Sergio Giovine
http://www.sergioillustration.com/

So...I am behind on everything. There are a pile of reasons, mostly small ones, but they have added up. So I am not all caught up with finished manuscripts and traveling this summer as I thought I would be. I am traveling, as planned, not missing appearances, but once home, I am pretty much chained to my desk trying to meet re-set deadlines. In a few months, things will be less crowded...YAY!! So I apologize if I haven't answered your email or returned your calls. I will, I will...

TEACHER APPRECIATION WEEK

2010-05-05T08:53:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Fredericksen taught 4th , 5th and 6th graders in a tiny school. She gave many of us unique, tailored, special assignments. Mine, for all three years, was to write a story a week.

Mr. Doohan crammed 36 weeks of high school grammar, composition writing, and other required studies into six weeks so we could read glorious books and poetry the rest of the year. The Hunting of the Snark (An Agony in 8 Fits), Pride and Prejudice, The Invisible Man… I will always hear his voice in my head as he paced, shouting and whispering the courtroom scene in To Kill A Mockingbird.

They were both getting old when I was in their classrooms. I never went back to tell them how much they had shaped me. So I use their names in my novels. And during school visits, I look around for the best teachers, the ones who shine, the ones the kids obviously love, respect, listen to, trust...and I thank *them*.

** The classroom in the picture is in Abu Dhabi. International schools, oh, yes, I will fly anywhere! Call me**

Faeries and Unicorns

2010-05-04T21:18:00.000-07:00

Lord Dunraven forbids people and magical creatures to have any contact at all. He is convinced that people who see dragons sail past overhead, or glimpse a unicorn in the woods, or hear faerie flutes on the light air of morning, are more likely to daydream--and less likely to work from dawn to dark.

When I was in 3rd and 4th grade, I dreamed about Lord Dunraven's lands every night for a year and a half. I would close my eyes here and wake up *there*. And when I lay down to sleep in the dream, I would open my eyes *here*. It was seamless. I had two lives.

I have written two series based on those dreams:

The Unicorn's Secret (8 titles) is getting flashy-lovely new covers to celebrate 10 wonderful years in print.
The Faeries' Promise (4 titles) is almost finished.

The first Faeries' Promise title and two Unicorn's Secret titles will release together in June 2010. The rest will follow soon.

The lovely covers and chapter excerpts are here: http://kathleenduey.com/KidsBooks/

The book I write, the book you read...and the real wars.

2010-04-20T13:57:00.000-07:00

Home from San Antonio, it was a wonderful conference! Hundreds of teens were invited by their libraries, so I got to talk to a lot of kids who had read or were reading The Resurrection of Magic books. I carried books with me, as always, and extra ones for the Teen Book Drop http://bit.ly/cxAYH8 and placed them here and there….

One boy (about halfway through Sacred Scars) was concerned about Sadima. He was hoping that Thomas Marsham would leave her alone and that Somiss would never find her. He sounded protective, angry, like she was his sister and he would stand between her and anyone who tried to hurt her. When he was through talking, he stared at me. "Marsham and Somiss are both still alive in Book three," I said, finally, quietly. He tightened his mouth, nodded, asked me to write faster, then walked away.

One girl hated Franklin, because he could and should have killed Somiss when they were boys, she said. We talked about it, about how hard it would really be, to be a child faced with another child who was that strange/smart/dangerous--and how Somiss and Franklin are, in their sad, distorted way, brothers.

Three girls stood in a line before me and talked to each other, arguing over whether or not Gerrard was really from South-End, or if he had made up everything he told Hahp. I am still not sure. I don't know how Gerrard knows what he knows. I told the girls that he is the most interesting character for me; he rarely talks to me, in my head, or through my fingers and the keyboard. He is silent, angry, stiff, fierce, and, I think, scared.

…..And on the last day, in the airport, I saw a young man crying. I sat near him and after a few minutes asked him if there was anything I could do to help. He looked up and said this. "Can you make this deployment go fast?"

I put out my hand and he gripped it hard for a little while. Then he sat up straighter, squared his shoulders and hauled in that long breath, the universal human sound of acceptance and determination. We talked a little. He was carrying a book. He said he liked dark fantasy. I had one copy of Skin Hunger left in my backpack, so I signed it for him. Being a writer has made me a better human being--one of a thousand perks.

No matter how you feel about the wars our country is engaged in: http://www.anysoldier.com/WhereToSend/

TEEN BOOK DROP

2010-04-14T12:15:00.000-07:00

TEEN BOOK DROP!!

On April 15th, I will be finding places in San Antonio TX to leave books for teens to find.
There are many ways to participate in the fabulous event. The amazing READERGIRLZ explain it all here.

When to stop....and where...

2010-04-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Last night I stopped writing in the middle of a scene. I often do, it saves me the "blank page doldrums" that can somehow take a perfectly normal-length morning and make it disappear without producing a single word. But last night I wasn't ready to stop writing. I quit because the story was dragging me in a direction that flummoxed me.

I know this happens to every writer now and then. It's happening to me more and more often. I think it means that I am finally past the point where I am thinking about craft--or anything else--while I write. It feels more like I am watching the characters, following them around.

I went back and reread it the moment I got up this morning and it now seems inevitable. Of course. Nothing else could have happened.

So: conscious effort-0
Getting myself out of the way-1

April 8th and wondering...

2010-04-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

Most writers have too many ideas. I certainly do. I am in the end stages of the four Faeries Promise books for younger readers. I LOVE the way they have turned out and I love the covers. And within 3-4 months, the last of the Resurrection of Magic books will be finished. And THEN what?

I feel like a cartoon character at a crossroads, staring at one of those old fashioned posts bristling with little signs, angled in a dozen different directions.

MARCH WRITING REPORTS

2010-03-02T19:11:00.000-08:00

The image is from http://www.kathleenduey.com/ Theo Black created it as downloadable wallpaper. It is the pattern of the Eridian tattoos which were not part of the books until cover artist David Ho added them to the sketches for the cover of Skin Hunger, which made me find a place for them in the story.... Thanks, David!

3/15/2010
Stuff happened. The whole day turned upside down. But I still wrote about 10 pages. Today, I pin the ending on it. THEN back to Limori full (or nearly full) time tomorrow. I love these Faerie books, but I am really looking forward to getting back to the trilogy. So many unaswered questions. I don't know who Gerrard is, how he knows what he knows. And I think the answer is not the obvious one.

3/14/2010 My subconscious seems to know that today should be the last day writing The Faeries Promise: The Full Moon (and I LOVE the ending now). But as I work, like, every ten minutes, I have to grab the digicorder and outline things that are coming to me about Sadima, about how something she did almost 200 years ago is pivotal to what she is doing NOW. I can't wait to be full time on A Resurrection of Magic again. Tomorrow should be the day! Thanks to everyone contacting me about the books. I can't tell you how much it helps me write.

3/5/2010 After three tries, I think I have the ending paced out now. The back-up-and-rewrite will be a hard slog, but worth it.

3/4 Off to a slow start today, but a start nonetheless. Alida is caught between tradition and revolution for the faeries--and afraid of both.

3/2/2010 7:07 pm
I am nearly finished with The Faeries Promise. ((How many times have I said this??)). Welcome to the Land of Writing. Nothing here goes as planned. Time is like taffy and calendars are often useless. I didn't cause the delay and can only work long hours and hope to keep up.

Mornings are going to the faeries, I spend afternoons and evenings in the city of Limori . Sadima, Hahp and Gerrard--who remains a mystery to me--are coming closer and closer together in time. I am about to go back to them now...

Robin Wasserman has been interviewed about the inspiration/origin of her book Skinned, and more. She says very nice things about my books, too, which means a great deal to me, coming from a writer I admire.

back to work.

writing writing writing YES I am...

2010-02-16T13:40:00.000-08:00

I will be keeping track of my writing days again for a while. I don't have time for much else...

2 /25/ 2010 A distracted and distracting day full of good phone calls and very little writing. I did get a great idea for Free Rat midday, while digging weeds in the little jungle. Lots of stuff coming through the new website now I am findable again...and now, to write as much as I can before bed.

2/23/9:46 am I just finished set pages on Faeries Promise #1 Silence and Stone. It looks lovely! Am close to finishing #4 The Full Moon. Can't wait to have my whole brain back on the third Resurrection of Magic Book. This morning, I reread a paragraph I type-scribbled last night in a yawningblurrstupor. It doesn't fit with *anything* but ...it kicked open a door. Looks like the strange love story is ON. And now I must write it with a tenderness of bruised-hearts despair---because it couldn't happen any other way.

2/22 2010 6: 12 pm Went over the set pages for the first Faeries Promise book: Silence and Stone. Copyedits next, then pass pages. I REALLY like the way these books are growing up...and now,for the rest of tonight, back to Limori.

2/21/ 2010 6: 15 I am writing and writing and some of it is beginning to fit together. And, for some reason, YA/adult novel ideas are pouring out of me. I stop and type them until my fingers stop, name them and save them. Most will suck when I reread notes/listen to the voice files. But some won't. More and more often, three or four of them grow together, like trees that touch. I am learning to name and rename the files in a way that lets me see this process. Winnowing will be the hard part. Back to the faeries....

2/20 2010 6:35 am: Nice long talk with my agent yesterday morning...trying to lay out the projects for the coming year. I worked all day yesterday on the Faerie book and have the first half in lovely shape (60 pg ms). After that it mushes out and spins. So today....I make ginger tea (fresh ginger, grated into the steamy water) then I haul plot...

2/19 2010
Late last night, following Somiss down an alley in South End, I found out two things: first that the criminal branch of the Marsham family tree has a vested interest in his ability to keep the city-kingdom in chaos; and second, that he has a longing I would never have expected.

2/16 2010
After 2 trips and a week of uneasy mulling, I am back to full speed ahead on The Faeries Promise: The Full Moon/. It's the last of a four-title 2-4th grade fantasy series. It is set in the same place as The Unicorn's Secret, an 8 book series getting new covers and a relaunch this Spring after 10 years in print. My never-ending website building experience continues....http://kathleduey.com will soon include art and excerpts of both series.
.
I love these books. Lord Dunraven writes a law that forbids people to have contact with magical creatures and the repercussions echo for a hundred years.

Mars, Venus, you know the tune...

2010-02-13T10:19:00.000-08:00

Collaboration is tricky...

The original execise was probably in 1997, according to Snopes. There are embelished versions online and a few are a little funnier, but this appears to be the original and it is amazing enough for me. How quickly jibing turns into hostility...
http://www.csun.edu/~dgw61315/tandem.html (a little crude language.)

.

Current Projects Update:

2010-01-31T09:07:00.000-08:00

The Faeries Promise: Aladdin Books 2010:
Lord Dunraven's old law separates people from magical beings. The faeries are hiding, hoping the humans will join them to defeat Dunraven’s guards.

A Resurrection of Magic #3 (still untitled) : Atheneum Books: 2011
Sadima and Hahp are trying to survive what they have caused. It seems impossible that either one can live, never mind both. But maybe. If they can get help.

Read now, online: Russet
Russet is running from his father, from the man with one wing, from his own crazy past: http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/

Up Next:

A Virgin’s Blood
A desperate girl lives in a slum, a favella that is growing daily as refugees pour in. She won't tell me her name, but I know she is planning on selling her blood. I have met the old man who will drink it, and I have seen his stone house, near the river. There are rooms without windows.

Free Rat
Small is in the dome in the desert. The world is falling apart beyond the white walls. He has almost figured out how to escape. Almost.

B.
B. hates the name her parents came up with: Berendina Pumpernickle. She is in the grocery store with her mother, hoping no one from school sees her, that her mother doesn’t do something silly, and that no one ever finds out how weird her family really is...

.

Miami: writers, alligators, sky mirrors

2010-01-19T21:52:00.000-08:00

This is the Everglades. A tiny little portion of them, I mean. I was in Miami for a writers' conference and was treated to an airboat ride. Somehow I never knew the Everglades is a river. There is a steady, slow, slow current. So many interesting residents there. Birds, turtles, and the alligators (the guide said) have survived two ice ages. They have brains the size of a peanut. So really, what is my excuse? This big glop of stuff between my own ears and just a puny little economic recession to make it through?

I will be back in FL in June, then again in October for The Miami Bookfair.

. click the photo to enlarge it...there are clouds in the water and an egret in the grass. I think it's a grackle, flying away, away, away....

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!

2009-12-31T18:55:00.001-08:00

If enough of us clasp hands and agree that we don't have to believe the hatreds that we were taught, everything will be all right. Each person is responsible for at least that much. But if you have time, help someone else along. It's going to take all of us, focused and active, to clean up the mess we have helped make. I say let's start now....

HAPPY NEW YEAR to all the humans and everyone else on the planet.

IT'S ABOUT TIME? (for a new post)

2009-12-10T13:09:00.000-08:00

I am falling behind on everything webbish, I know that. But I am getting books written and that has to count for something.

Thanks to everyone nudging me to write faster, to get back to Russet. Thanks to the people saying they can't wait for the third Resurrection of Magic book. And I love each and every adult who is excited to read the Faeries Promise (releasing in Spring 2010) because they loved The Unicorn's Secret--even though both series are written for gradeschool kids.

May all your holidays be warm and full of love.

And now, back to work.

Writing Progress, all current projects.

2009-10-25T15:37:00.000-07:00

updated 10/27
I am so preoccupied with the writing of the third book of the Resurrection of Magic trilogy that I am not writing blog posts (or anything else) very often. I will be MUCH more interesting in a few months. Until then, I think I will start putting my FB writing dailies up here, too. All in this one post, I mean. I will keep adding them to the bottom--you can read downward, oldest first, so it makes SOME sense.....it's just a sketchy little writing diary as I wade through this third, complicated book:

((adding this later. I am now (11/7) splitting days between two projects
and the updates include The Faerie's Promise, book 3 Wishes and Wings))

10/10
Just made the *best* connection in the book. One of those things that drops into place like it has been machined into 1/1000th centimeter tolerance and fits! Oh I love my job.

10/11
Good morning, Richard is sick and I kiss him a lot, but I am hoping... Still flying on the third book of the trilogy--can't wait to go to work. LOVE the new covers for The Unicorn's Secret and The Faeries Promise, releasing spring 2010. New website coming up~~wrote the bio: I have such a weird life. Adult and YA readers: the experiment is working better than I ever thought possible. http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/

10/12
I was awake between 3:00 and 5:30 whispering into my digicorder and walking the dark house back to front...staring at the moon through the trees. The book is getting deeper and wider.

10/13
I am writing like mad, like MAD, I tell you. It is an undescribable high when it comes this fast.....

10/13
Maybe getting what Richard has, coughing a little ...gave up on sleep at 4:30, have been working since. I'm writing Sadima's story but have to switch soon. Hahp's story interlocks; I must make them fit. The timelines--200 years apart in the first book-- are now within 40 years of concurrent. Sadima is fighting to stay whole: The boys are capable of anything at this point. Anything. So who knows? Not me. I love my job.

10/14
Another good day yesterday, two chapters added (they are short chapters, so about 3800 words.) I hope to add two more today. This helps make up for all the stare at the wall days...I had to spend time trying to get started! Today I will leave Sadima at a delicate... and painful.... crossroads to go see if Hahp and Gerrard are starting to see past the craziness...

10/15
The TLA panel I will be on: Cory Doctorow, Matt de la Pena, Chris Crutcher, Shannon Hale and me. And Ellen Hopkins tells me she and Sonya Sones will be on a panel with Lisa Shroeder. That is a lot of YA amazingness all at once. TLA should be huge fun this year. (adding this later, also Jenni Holm is coming. YAY!)

10/15
Here for two minutes, apologies to the people I am not responding to for real-time chat... I have to seriously WRITE now...in a few months will have a little more time to play...NEW WEBsite coming soon...YAY!!

10/16
The nameless book three is flying. Which is good. Because it took a long time to START flying. But, of all things, there appears to be a love story emerging. Maybe. I can't quite tell yet. A really really REALLY weird one.

10/17
Just wrote a really good chapter. Let the twists begin!!!

10/18
Today (In the unnamed book I am being eaten by) two people will be face to face who have not seen each other in 10 years. I am afraid that one will not be honest about where and why and what and who...and that the other one won't see the lies because of fear and exhaustion. Not just yet, anyway.

10/19
I left off writing last night at a really critical part of an emotional (for Sadima and me) scene. I never finish a chapter, so I always have a pick-up point in the writing, not a cold start, first thing in the morning... and this morning, I will be walking back into a maelstrom ...

10/19
Just got a bad review in a major journal. First one. Ouch. Major complaints, "nothing much happens" and "nothing is explained" in Sacred Scars. Well the last thing is sort of true. But MUCH is intimated....

10/20
I apologize for the whining. I am a little stressed, I think. Giant dreadlines are far to close....So I am off to write. The weird love story is looking more likely. I just...? It really is odd...but kind of wonderful, too.

10/22
Spent some time with the boys inside the cliff and then found a yogi who would talk to me about levitation, how it feels, how it clicks inside, clicks into place, how belief that one can do things is pivotal in doing them....and then I started thinking about how the magic in Limori would be shaped in order to make this possible: http://www.vimeo.com/1778399 wingsuit base jumping
Source: vimeo.com

10/23
Woke up with a little avalanche of revelations about something in Limori that has puzzled me lately. As you may know, there were no libraries in that mostly illiterate city except the royal one, which should have fallen into the hands of the magistrates when the last king was dethroned. But it didn't, and now I know where all those books are. Of course.

10/24
Sadima has not been to South End in years. This morning, she is on the long road from the countryside into the city of Limori. She has two graves to visit, rent money to collect, a cypress tree to find and a man she must deal with. One way or another.

10/25
What happens in South End...stays in South End? Not this time. Sadima visited the graves and went to the meeting hall, where Thomas spoke so often. It's locked up; a broken window; a man in a red tunic seemed to have the keys. But about an hour later, in the middle of a cobblestone street, near what was once her cheese shop, something happened to Sadima that has changed everything.

10/26
Two stories, 200 years apart. The first story causes the second, and by the middle of this last book of the trilogy, the time gap will have closed. The stories are about 30 years apart now. I often write 5-10 chapters of one strand, then switch. Sadima's story is at a resting point, so I will go back to Hahp and Gerrard now. Somiss seems to be gone. Why? Is it a chance or a trap...I will begin to find out today.

10/27
I ended up following Sadima through a very long and very hard night. And now, TODAY, it's back into the maze of passages inside the cliffs...I am hoping the boys are alive, eating, reclaiming their humanity after what happened in Sacred Scars. There are only five of them alive now. Hahp, Gerrard, Will, Levin and Jordan.

10/28
Report from inside the cliffs: everyone is still alive and managing, but the simple logic of "pass or starve" is disintegrating. I have no idea why or what will be replacing it, if anything. I can't tell where Somiss is, but Hahp thinks something is wrong...so do I.

10/29
I am stopped cold this morning by a new idea. Will jot the thing down until the ideas dry up, then sprint back to Limori.

10/29
Ok, the new idea is written down and digicorded, therefore safe. I think it might be good. NOW off to Limori. As it turns out, most of the market-place fakers were performing metaphors for actual magic, a disguised art to survive the pograms/hangings. So Hahp is learning this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqim3Y3ir2g&feature=related to prepare for the real stuff. I only hope I can describe it...

10/30
Today's chapter will have a terribly sad scene and I am procrastinating...but after that chapter comes one I have been waiting to write since I got the idea for these books 15 years ago...

10/31
The sad scene got written. Oh I cried. Then I had to do writerly nonwriting things (2 interviews, respond to emails, books flights for Jan FL writers intensive, etc, etc, ETC. and answer an email from an artist friend who is doing stage design for a play in China. Then I cut down more tree limbs. Today! Now! I write the long awaited scene of the beginners' exercises for the magic that underlies all other magic.

11/1
Sadima demanded my attention late last night. And when I add a chapter for her, I have to re-pace the Academy side of the story to add one there, too. Got up early and JUST finished the reordering. NOW I can reread the long awaited Franklin's New Class scene written yesterday morning. It came out faster than I could type, always a wonderful feeling. Next up: a midnight meeting. I think.

11/2
Ok. I have to split my time for a week in order to finish the third title of the Faeries Promise. So....Mornings= Faeries's Promise for 2-4th graders. The dark of night will be for the Limori Academy...As of last night I can only say that the forgotten half caved-in passages of the ancient smugglers' tunnels beneath the city of Limori are attracting street orphan "squatters" as the weather turns.

11/3
The Faeries Promise: faeries are forbidden contact with humans. Old Lord Dunraven made the laws. Without magic, people are dulled, easier to rule, better serfs. Alida was the hostage to ensure her family's exile, but Gavin, a human boy, has helped her escape. It's an apartheid story, in a way, both cultures damaged in isolation.

In Limori: it's all about trust. And shame. And secrecy. And juggling.

11/4
Two reactions to the odd love story emerging in the last trilogy book: The editor: "OOooooOOOoooooooooo...That could be INTERESTING!" The writer-friend whispered "Wow. Wow!! But...can you... DO that?" I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...and the characters want it. So this morning, I will write about faeries ...who want to go HOME. And then, in the dark of night, I will slide back to Limori...

11/5
The book with no name: It is raining in Limori today. Sadima is painting, crying. The street-rat kids are shivering and hungry. Inside the cliffs, no one can hear or even smell the rain. But they can hear screams.

People have asked about other projects. So there is a longer update below, then back to eensy ones tomorrow:

RUSSET:
Thanks for emailing and tweeting and FBing and etc…I will continue his story when I can scratch out the time to talk to him again, probably in a month or two. I am completely fascinated with him. He is trying to escape his ((crazy and/or abusive or non-human, or victimized, or reality-gamer ...or??) parents and the one-winged angels: but first he has to get to Stehekin before they do. It’s a real place. The story is here, free, incomplete but I think it is kind of amazing…http://russet-one-wing.blogspot.com/

A VIRGIN'S BLOOD:
This one is lurking at the edge of my thoughts most of the time. HUGE idea file now, many-many digicorder notes. Can't wait to write it.

FREE RAT:
The treatment is growing, expanding and the story is getting grittier and wilder. I will send it off to the incredibly patient agent (we talked about this at lunch in NYC in 2007) soon.

SHORT STORIES:
I have one included in an upcoming anthology edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier. It's dark...about a unicorn who has lived too long. Many incredible writers are included.

(((The amazing editors: Holly's upcoming THE WHITE CAT is intricate, mysterious, creepy, set in a world almost like ours...*almost*. It stars a teen you can only love and worry about… first of a trilogy.

Justine's recent LIAR is getting stunning reviews, awards buzz, and amazing word of mouth recommendations. It is on my desk. I can't wait to read it.)))

OTHER SHORT STORIES
I am writing short stories set in Limori, the city of A RESURRECTION OF MAGIC for my website which is slowly being completely rehauled. It’s a mess right now. It will be awesome…And when the stories are up, I will announce it here.

Take Care, everyone, and now I have to get to work! Tomorrow's update will be tiny again...

11/7
Still splitting days. Faeries are on their way back to Ash Grove: Elders, adults, rambunctious faerie kids, babies, goats pulling stout wooden carts, a caravan of winged people--all walking. Midday, continued reading. From 5pm to eyes-are-closing-time, back to Limori. Sadima knows she is being manipulated but by whom? And why?

11/8
The Faeries are so much fun to spend time with, I had forgotten how much I love Lord Dunraven's lands. The setting is the same as The Unicorn's Secret. Alida is watching her mother try to settle an argument. (faeries are noisy and opinionated). In Limori, Hahp is following Gerrard, ducking back out of the cold-fire light when he stops...

11/9
Fairies are funny. Testy, argumentative, difficult, and interesting. Lovely break from the dark and silent world in the cliffs. And Sadima has a man in her house...

11/11
Focusing on faeries for a few days to make a deadline:
Faeries are standing still, breathing silently. The magic makes them invisible. But Dunraven's guards are off their horses now, staring into the trees...

11/13
In a meadow near Ash Grove, everything grows faster because the soil has absorbed magic for a thousand years. The townspeople suspect the faeries have come home. They are all so afraid of what will happen when Lord Dunraven finds out.
11/15
I am getting close to the end of Wishes and Wings. I am reading it through, from page one, then will write the last two chapters.....

11/ 24 Between the last update and this one, I have finished the third Faeries' Promise, book ((LOVE to click send!))....then slept a little, rose at 3:30 am to make an early flight to Philadelphia, appeared at NCTE, saw many writer-friends, met a few new ones whose work I admire (I love meeting authors), signed many books for many terrific teachers and librarians, did a nine-minutes-per-table-of-fifteen-educators speed-dating session, joined Zilpha Keatly Snyder and Michael Buckly at the Secret Garden Bookstores to meet teachers and sign books, then flew home last night. And now, back to work. Today I start the copyedits of "Silence and Stone", the first of the Faeries Promise books, then will begin, tomorrow, writing the fourth one in the mornings, devoting the nighttime hours to the last book of the Resurrection of Magic trilogy. There is a new interesting idea/thing pounding on the door that I will sketch out today. And there is Russet. He is talking again....

11/25 thru 11/27
Am trying to find a middle grade novel idea I can fall in love with to send an editor I REALLY want to work with. Can't find one yet. Keep coming up with great ready for chapters ideas instead. Also fiddling with three other things, sort of a holiday break and idea-fishing trip... Have to get back to REAL work soon. But wheeeee....this is nice.

11/28 Copyedit/final go-through on Silence and Stone today. Should get the copyedits of (book #2) Following Magic back next week. Wishes and Wings (book #3) is off to the editor. I will start writing the fourth one mid next week.

11/30
Good day yesterday: finished Silence and Stone copyedits (short book, 60 pages), wrote text and batched pictures for the website re-do, gave the Free Rat proposal a couple of hours, and recorded MANY ideas/insights for the third Resurrection of Magic trilogy book while doing yardwork. Today: First, the dried out, now lettuce-edged Following Magic copyedit. Tonight: Free Rat again, I think. Or back to Limori... ((added 12/1 : thanks to the people on FB and Twitter who voted for Limori. You won. Hahp and Gerrard are learning this a quickness of mind and body that astound me. And them.
2/3
I am not sure where yesterday went. But it is gone. This morning I have begun a final read thru of the Faeries Promise #2 copyedits. Noonish, I will begin the revision of #3, which UPS says is *almost* here... THEN, tonight, I intend to go visit Russet. Thanks to everyone who is nudging (and the few who are pummeling me) me to get back to it.

NORMA MAZER...

2009-10-18T09:36:00.000-07:00

Norma Fox Mazer has passed away. There is a hole in my life, and in yours, too, whether you know it or not. A long time ago, I wrote her a fan letter. I was in the very early stages of my late-start writing career with two small books for beginning readers published. I wanted to write for young adults and I was looking for examples. My editor recommended Norma's masterful After The Rain.

I could only blink and wonder as I read the luminous last few pages. Norma had drawn a perfectly real life for her protagonist:

School, older-than-average parents, a PTSD-missing brother, eldercare for a grandfather so complex and so difficult that I loved and hated him, the kindness of strangers, the pitfalls of friendship, grief, deep, true self-discovery without a hint of sappiness, a sense of history and generations--all of that and a worthy boy to kiss. And the canvas wasn’t crowded.

After The Rain stunned and intimidated me into another ten years of skill-gathering before I would actually try to write YA. But I wrote my first “writer swoon” fan letter to Norma Mazer the day I finished her book. Imagine my amazement when she wrote me back.

We kept writing then began calling each other a few times a year. We finally met at an ALA in San Francisco and went to lunch and talked for two hours. We agreed on most things and argued with zest about what we didn't. And we kept crossing paths as writers do.

Norma and I were writer-friends. I met Harry, her wonderful (and a wonderful writer) husband, only once, also at a conference. We never visited each other's homes. But we shared similar sorrows in our lives, and we talked about them. I was always healed a little by her kindness and her generosity. I hope I gave her the same gift. I am sad and ashamed to admit that I had not contacted her for nearly two years. I don't know why. I would give anything to change that.

A few weeks ago, a twitter post written by Norma's daughter caught my eye. She was going home, she said, to spend time with her mother, who was very ill.
So I wrote her through her website and she told me what ‘very ill’ meant. I wrote a message to the family, and revised it ten or fifteen times, which made me laugh then cry.

So I have known this was coming. And a few minutes ago, I read about Norma’s death on a list for independent booksellers---which is a perfect and fitting way to find out.

Good night, dear Norma.
I miss you.
I will do my best to do my best without you.

If you missed meeting Norma or weren’t aware of her brilliant work, her words and books are still here http://normafoxmazer.net/ And that, truly, is the magic of literacy.

Sacred Scars Review

2009-10-02T07:22:00.000-07:00

No Spoilers!! Yay! (except my use of the eyedropper...?)

SACRED SCARS: Hornbook review 10/09

After the momentary pause at the (cliffhanger) end of SKIN HUNGER, the action resumes full throttle. In alternating chapters, magically attuned servant-girl Sadima plots a rebellion against her exploitive master Somiss, who is keeping her and Franklin captive in a cave complex while he relearns how to use the old magic; and two hundred years later, in the sadistic school for wizards run from the same cave complex, apprentice wizard Hahp plots a rebellion against Somiss and Franklin in a world where magic is now widespread. The plot-gunning question of what has happened to Sadima in the meantime is only partially answered: Duey doles clues with an eyedropper, keeping readers busily but happily engaged in connecting dots even as the horrors and triumphs of the unfolding story hold them spellbound. When the last page of this exquisitely suspenseful fantasy is turned, readers will be satisfied (Both plotlines come to crisis and thence to resolution, however temporary) but will feel they are still living in Duey’s world, waiting to discover what happens to the characters they have become so invested in—waiting impatiently for Duey to conjure the concluding volume.

Website in progress....YAY!!! and HELP!!!! and Prizes for the Helpfulest!!!

2009-09-11T08:49:00.000-07:00

For years I have been so busy writing and being here, FB, MySpace, Twitter, etc, that I have let my antique website become... antiquier. But now I am excited to announce that a new one is in progress.

One difficult thing for the designer, Theo Black,

http://www.theblackarts.com/ is that I write for K-YA. I worried about finding a visual thematic thread that would not scare little kids but wouldn't distance/insult YA readers---but Theo has found a way!

So. What do you like to see on author's websites? What is annoying? What would you like to see on mine?

I am considering having short stories set in the same venues as my fantasy books...as a sample, I guess, and perhaps fun for people who have already read and liked the books. Or taking stuff that didn't make it into the book and expanding it. Stories built on outtakes, I mean. Yes? No?

And what else would be good (or bad) ?

I would so appreciate and/all your thoughts/ideas/wild suggestions. Feel free to comment here or email me kathleen (at) kathleenduey (dot) com. The best idea gets a signed copy of whatever book you want a signed copy of!!!

Scroll down here to see almost everything I have ever written (and check out other authors, too)

A few of these books would be impossible--but only a few. (Forgive me, but US only on the book prize, eternal gratitude and a one page sneakpeek from book 3 (the book that has no name...yet) everywhere else.

.

dragoncon...

2009-09-08T08:45:00.000-07:00

Just a tiny selection of costumes...I could have done nothing BUT take pictures, but had to make it to my panels and eat and whatnot...

DragonCon

2009-09-07T19:43:00.000-07:00

Just got back, minutes ago, all bleary and tired. I DO have some pics and will have them up soooon....

Highlights: (short list)

The amazing people who met to talk about Skin Hunger....wowohwow was it interesting to listen to all of your thoughts. Thanks so, so much!!!

Steam Punk...between Scott Westerfeld's amazing upcoming (or is it out? It's SOON) Leviathan, and the incredible costumes at the con, I fell myself leaning....

And then I thought....Bio Punk???
Or Pink Punk?

Mmmmmm

more soon.
yawn,
k

DragonCon!!!!!!!!!!

2009-09-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

Very much looking forward to being at DragonCon in Atlanta Thursday-Monday. So many interesting artists and writers coming and just general Con-goodness!!

YA track schedule: http://www.yalit.dragoncon.org/schedule.html

Whole event info: http://www.dragoncon.org/

I will bring back ideas, artist's cards, adventures in mass transit, worldcab interviews, a worn-out me, and pix.

And will edit The Faeries Promise (Book 2, Wishes) on the plane.

((I owe this trip to Holly Black, Justine Larbalestier, and Scott Westerfeld who were all kind enough (I have been told) to talk up Skin Hunger when they attended DragonCon--thus tagging me on the YA track folks' map.))

They are all remarkable writers.

If you have not seen the trailer for Scott's too, too, cool Leviathan, go now and do so!

If you have not read the incredible thriller LIAR by Justine check it out. here.

Holly's amazing books are here and The White Cat is next up. It is astonishing. Trust me.