Things I could blog about if I weren’t so tired:

-The careers I would take on in another life (Broadway orchestrator; gynecologist; Olympic gymnast)

-What’s going on with my work-in-progress (I’m facing down the last few chapters and daunted about the prospect of pulling it all together.  That’s a photo of a ditched-out horse trail, by the way.)

-How it’s Derby season here in Kentucky and there were Derby Pie samples at the grocery store this morning and I almost fainted with delight (Derby Pie=pecan pie with chocolate chips.  It is SO GOOD.)

-Um

-Something else

-Probably another thing

-I’m really happy that Nice and Mean will be on the Summer Indie Next List–I told you that, right? 

-What does it say about me that I repeatedly bury the lead?

-Also might as well mention that I’ve almost confirmed dates for launch parties in Louisville, NYC, Providence and Boston

-I bought pretty Indian bangle bracelets to give away as swag for Nice and Mean and kind of all I want to do is make them ring-a-ling all day long

Yeah.  That’s about it.  If you would like to propose a topic for me to blog about, please go ahead.  Especially if you’re my friend, and you once heard me talk about something funny, please remind me what it is so I can talk about it.  I would welcome a little direction.

Boo.  I made this really cute chart in Excel so you could see how everyone answered last month’s poll question, I think Nice People Are, but I can’t paste it into WordPress.  If anyone has any intel on how to do this, do tell.

I, meanwhile, will share the results in verbal format, and you will have to visualize. 

37% of you thought nice people were often play-acting

35% said that nice people work hard to make others feel happy and cared-for, and they’re grateful

9% said nice people often sacrificed what they want, to their own detriment

7% said nice people were not as interesting as people with edge

2% said nice people were born nice, and

12% said the whole question was too complex to answer in a poll

Very interesting, my friends!  More voters thought nice people were play-acting than they were grateful for the niceness.  Since respondents could vote for more than one category, there could have been an overlap, but still: it seems as though there’s suspicion about the sincerity of nice people.

I wonder if you think the insincerity is pernicious, or just trying to make other people happy?  But then–is that pernicious in itself, to always want to keep others afloat?  I guess the question goes back to the 9% who think that nice people sacrifice what they want, often to their own detriment.  Or maybe something else?

This is certainly the issue  for Sachi in Nice and Mean.  She wants her parents, friends and sister to think she’s the same Sachi she’s always been, but she has ambitions that need more than niceness to be realized.  Especially when it comes to dealing with Marina…

For late April/early May, we turn to the other half of Nice and Mean, Marina herself, and ask you to complete the sentence, “I think mean people are…”

And in June–when N&M comes out–I can’t even think what deliciousness lies in store.

Happy voting!  Vote early, vote often!

Hello, readers!

I’m sure you’re with me in thanking Micol, Irene, Susan, Tami, Margie, and Emily for their guest posts.  I had immersed myself in the world of niceness and meanness for so long to write my book, but they all reminded me of the emotional consequences of how we humans treat each other.  Plus, some of them made me laugh or had cute photos, and it was a treat to come back and see something new on the blog.  So thanks!

In another version of the world, I’d be telling vacation tales, but I’m trying to limit my computer use because I’m still landsick from being on a boat for so long.  I’ve tried ginger, Bonime, sea bands and sleep, and nothing seems to be working, so I will probably need to call my doctor or pharamacist, but that’s another story.  The real story is that while I was away (and, um, a bit before), two bloggers were kind enough to feature leetle interviews with me on their blogs. 

The first was Julie Halpern, a writer whose website is about the cutest I have ever seen (go ahead–click on it!) who asked me some of those Inside the Actors Studio questions.  She’s the author of, among other things, Into the Wild Nerd Yonder, which examines the upside of nerdiness in a very pleasing manner.  Here are some of the q’s she asked.  My favorite, of course, is, “What is your favorite swear?”  I remember fondly watcihng Stephen Sondheim’s lips form the F word to the sound of a skipping stereo.

Also, Chick Loves Lit (who has a supremely beautiful blog header, herself) gave me her Fun Five questionnaire.  I got to regale her with my first unfortunate introduction to “Suite Judy Blue Eyes” and my not-very-kind feelings about birds.

That’s all she wrote today, folks!  Hope your life is balanced in more ways than one.  I will be searching for that as I do un-computer things, like oh, folding the laundry that’s been sitting in the dryer since last night…

I was thrilled when Jessica guest blogged on my site, writing a fantastic song. Now, I’m so excited to return the favor. The segment’s title alone—On the Scene with Nice and Mean—makes me feel super cool. But, I’ll let you in on a secret. I wasn’t always the starlet before you. I know it’s a shocker, but such is the world of girls. Boys will tell you what they think to your face (unless you’re dating them; then they play games—but that’s another post altogether). If a guy dates his friend’s ex, they may come to blows with their fists. Or, he may just tell him, “Dude, that’s not cool.” They’d have a few other choice words, and end of story. But not girls. Girls may have it out with you too, but just when you think everything is fine, poof and abracadabra. The mean girls appear.

The first time I experienced this was when I was in sixth grade. I hung with the cool kids then (that is, they would become the cool crowd). We had sleepovers. I got invited to their parties. I played spin-the-bottle (although we didn’t really do anything when the bottle landed on us). We went to the local luncheonette for lunch (here, I knew I was part of something big because leaving school to go out to lunch was not something everyone did). Then, about midway through sixth grade, they stopped asking me to go out to lunch with them (they told me later, “Oh, we didn’t think you’d be allowed to go”). They told me my clothes were weird. The big thing then was that the color of your socks had to match your shirt. Mine didn’t. When a new girl entered our grade, I was really excited. We became friends, I invited her to sleep over. She never showed up. The mean girls adopted her. She told me later, they told her I wasn’t allowed to do anything fun at my house. They ended up ostracizing her too. By the end of the year, not only were we not friends but none of those girls were friends with her either. She signed everyone’s autograph book with the same phrase: “Sorry about all the fights.”

In high school, the mean girl thing happened again, only this time it was worse because I thought these girls would stay my friends forever (What? That’s how high school girls think. That’s what those BFF necklaces mean, so must be true.) Then, there was a guy. Isn’t there always? And a misunderstanding. Everyone stopped talking to me. The “friends” who were supposedly friends with both me and the girl in question (let’s call her Stella), said they understood both sides (they also knew what really happened) but did nothing to help the situation. One of them left Stella “real friends” in our senior will.

Why does this happen? Who knows? It taught me things, though. I’m not going to wax poetic and say I’m happy for all that happened, but the friends I got in college were true friends. I knew what to look for, could read behind the false exterior and see when people were really being friendly or setting me up for a fall. I talk to a few people from h.s., but mainly on facebook, and am only really close with one person from back then. Not surprisingly, it’s a guy. And other than a minor argument in high school, we’ve been good for years. Were things perfect? Nope. But if there was anything amiss, we talked it out. I never had to worry that he would tell a friend who’d tell a friend who’d tell a friend that he hated me.

On teen shows, though, everyone becomes friends—mean and non-mean girls alike. I wonder if that’s how it is now or is this just an alternate lovey dovey reality. On the original 90210, Kelly hooked up with Dylan while Brenda was away. Majorly hooked up. And Brenda and Kelly found a way to be friends in the later episodes. On the new 90210, Naomi and Silver totally ostracize Annie, and now she’s forgiven them all and they apologized and everyone is happy happy. One Tree Hill? Peyton dated Lucas behind Brooke’s back. They patched it up. Granted, it took a psycho killer to bring them together, but still.

Maybe that’s the answer. If you have girls, sit them in front of teen soaps, and have them take notes. Tell them real friends make things work. And if you become a mean girl, there are ways to reform.

Margie Gelbwasser

www.margiewrites.com

INCONVENIENT, Flux, November 2010

This would be me.

Hey there ravenous readers! I’m Susan Robertson, of Wastepaper Prose, and you are On the Scene with Nice and Mean.

I met Jess a few months ago at a book signing and apparently made an impression because she asked me to guest blog while she is away on her honeymoon (where I hope she’s having a blast). I was thrilled when she asked, but I can’t help but wonder if my being here is not a product of a brief lapse in her sanity. Regardless, I am here to fill her super-fabulous blogging shoes.

So far my On the Scene colleagues have brought you tales of niceness and meaness that have warmed your heart, made you laugh and possibly caused your high school PTSD to flare up. My story has less humor to it (my apologies for that upfront) and it’s the first time I’ve shared it publicly. But first you need a little background…

I have malformed digits. Translation: I have nubbins for fingers. The amniotic bands broke and were trapped inside my mother’s womb with me while I was still becoming Susan. They got wrapped around my fingers and toes and caused my birth defect. I never knew there was something wrong until some mean kids (and some who just weren’t very smart) decided to use that birth defect to insult or belittle me.

“What’s wrong with you?” “You’re a freak.” “Is that contagious?” I heard every insult a little kid could come up with and I cried over more than one of them. In high school, it only got worse. Mean girls carried on the trend of calling me a freak. They also called me a “fingerless witch” or at least something that rhymed with it.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that adults tend to say the most idiotic and hurtful things. While working at a bookstore in college I had more than one adult notice my fingers and tell me they would pray for me, as if I hadn’t been living with it for nearly two decades. Perhaps the most hurtful are the people who automatically assume the birth defect is my mother’s fault. “Is your mother an alcoholic?” People can be cruel, even if they don’t mean to be.

An incident with an adult – a teacher – almost drove me away from my passion. She was a keyboarding teacher at my middle school and keyboarding was mandatory. I was more than willing to try, but our first lesson was on “home keys,” and that one lesson started it all. The instant my teacher saw my fingers positioned over those keys, she decided I would be a keyboarding failure.

Using the home keys, your fingers home base on the keyboard, I was horrible at the keyboarding exercises. My words-per-minute count was pitiful. I tried to adapt and use my own method, but I was promptly told that if I couldn’t type properly then I would fail the class.

It wasn’t the first time that I had been told my hands and/or feet would keep me from doing something. But it was the first time it had been reiterated it so many times that I started to believe it. I started to believe that I wouldn’t ever be a writer because writing was all about typing and word counts, right? If my teacher thought I couldn’t succeed, it must have been true.

That was when my parents got involved and called on the principal for help. All I remember about that part was that there were numerous meetings and, when all was said and done, my teacher didn’t say much to me during class. I found out she was under strict orders to let me adapt, and she couldn’t stand to let me type my way. Somedays it looked painful for her to watch me.

Now, nearly 15 years later, I’m an award-winning journalist. I type everyday, using the tried and true method I developed in order to survive keyboarding. Two hands. Four fingers. My index, pinky and thumb on the right, and all the one on the left really does is hit Caps Lock, but it’s involved so I’ll give credit where credit is due. And I fly across the keys, though, admittedly, my speed stemmed from the discovery of instant messanging and not a desperate urge to become the fastest typist in the east.

So the moral of this story is three-fold, and you’ve heard it all before. 1. Believe in yourself because you’re the one who has to want it. 2. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something because they may not know how amazing you can be, especially when challenged. 3. Never let off the gas. If you want something, go after it with everything you have in spite of the doubt and negativity around you. Those people, who doubt your ability and spout insults aren’t you, and you are all that matters when it comes to what you want in life.

Leave a comment below and share your tales of  niceness and  meaness. Tomorrow our final guest blogger, young adult author Margie Gelbwasser , will be her to share hers with you, so remember to stop back by!

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Zu is  both.—  adapted from E.B. White (Charlotte’s Web)

When Jess asked me to guest post on her blog I admit a little thrill went up my spine. Nice? Mean! How fun to expose bad deeds and ill will… but as the date for my post approached I knew there was only one topic I could write about – the genuine embodiment of a true friend and a good writer- the nicest person I know- Zu Vincent.

Zu and I met at Vermont College and became fast friends. Her prose is spectacular, her yoga poses divine. Her novel THE LUCKY PLACE is not to be missed. But most of all I can count on my friend Zu, not just to do the right and good thing. Zu consistently goes way above and beyond, to do the very best thing.

Three weeks ago the impact of Zu’s kindness came around again… a story that started long ago and far away… once upon a time… when my picture book biography Soar, Elinor! was just a twinkle in my editor and my eyes. “Go to California and find Elinor Smith! Comb through every photo! Find something great!” my editor commanded and I was quick to comply. But there were yards of scrapbooks, and photo albums, and mementos. Boxes and boxes. I needed help.

Zu lives hours- time zones, practically- from Santa Cruz where I found Elinor’s son and her treasures, but Zu was there at the airport to pick me up, to drive me, and to help me comb through the pioneer aviatrix’s belongings. We scanned every scrap, then Zu filmed hours of interviews while Elinor and I talked and talked and talked. Elinor and her son loved Zu on first sight. Of course.

Is this woman nice? It was just the beginning.

I knew from the start that this book would take a long time. Picture books work that way, especially when the art is exquisite. I also suspected Elinor Smith didn’t have a lot of time. She was a spry 95 when Zu and I visited her, but 95 is, well, 95. Finally last summer I received the mechanicals (sort of a preliminary color proof of a picture book) It was gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to show Elinor.

But I couldn’t leave my ill mother in Vermont. By this time Zu had become as close to the Smith/Sullivan family as I had. Without skipping a beat she insisted I mail the picture book to her so she could drive half a dozen hours to Palo Alto and present it to Elinor herself. This seemed like a crazy plan, but I mailed the package, and Zu made the drive, and she read the book, leaving a framed copy of the cover she made for Elinor. They both cried. I did, too, hearing their report, back at my house in Vermont. It was Elinor’s 98th birthday.

Of course, we hoped Elinor would hold the real hardcover in her hands- when I’d first contacted her she insisted she’d be ready for a book tour when it was time! Sadly, that won’t happen. The book will be published this October 12, but Elinor passed away on March 19, finally receiving the press and fanfare she deserved, attention she’d been denied in the eighty years since her many record breaking flights. Attention that Zu gave her, spontaneously and with no self interest. That’s the kind of nice that’s deep and good, genuine and true.

E. B. White was right. It is rare to find someone who’s both a good writer and a true friend. In my book, Zu Vincent is one of a kind.

~Tami Lewis Brown

These days, Zu and Tami are part of a group blog that focuses on the craft of writing for children and young adults, Through The Tollbooth. Zu’s posts always inspire Tami to be a better writer and a better person. She’s not saying they always work!

Hi everyone!  I am SO SO pleased to be here as part of Jessica Leader’s Honeymoon Guest Blog Special (which is what I’m calling this in my head.  Though I think she’s calling it “On the Scene with NICE AND MEAN” which rhymes and is catchier).  I spent a lot of time thinking about what I would post today, seeing as I’m part of a ridiculously cool line-up of bloggers and authors who are sharing fabbity fab stories of NICEness and MEANness.  And, you know, I could post about all the nice things I’ve done and how I’m a totally nice person and how nice it is to know me, but:

The wisened semi-grown up writing this post.

1. How many of you would believe that a girl who runs a blog called The Hate-Mongering Tart is actually nice to a fault?  I mean, seriously

2. Reading about how nice I am is, as Hassan from John Green‘s AN ABUNDANCE OF KATHERINES would say, “not interesting.” (Um, I read this book last week and it’s hysterical.  Just saying.)

So.  I have decided to tell you about the time that Mean Girls — real Mean Girls — tried to take over my life.  I mean, wow, who would have thought the Mean Girls would have been interested in me?  I was a sort of punk rocker with pink and black hair and I wore lots of non-matching clothes and glittery make-up and they were pretty much obsessed with, like, making sure they had color-coordinated their outfits…to each other.

But somehow fate would have it that these two would be the girls with whom I’d spend most of my time at the beginning of my sophomore year in college. And though I had been bullied/ignored/uncool as a teen, I had had a pretty decent time with friends in college (and later had an even BETTER time, post-Mean-Girl-pocalypse, in case you were wondering).  And these girls seemed to like me.  Little did I know — as the geeks of the world so often don’t, in real life — that I was their PROJECT.  You know, like in that movie, SHE’S ALL THAT?  Where a girl takes off her glasses and gets a haircut and — BAM! — she’s a Hottie McHotpants and the star of the Prom?  Yeah.  They wanted that for me, without the makeover.

So, I thought, so that future Proud Geek Girls of the world are not lulled into a sense of security when attacked by a tribe of Mean Girls, I would make you a list of warning signs.

You've seen MEAN GIRLS. Have you ever felt like Kady? Or Janice?

WARNING SIGN NUMBER ONE: Your new friends always say things like “you could look so pretty if.”
It may SOUND like a compliment, especially to those of us who have grown up being told that or just feeling like we are ugly or fat or weird.  Me?  I felt like a total freak for most of my adolescence and sometimes still I look at myself in the mirror and go WTF, Emily, why do you have to look ridiculous?  But you know what?  A real friend doesn’t tell you “could be hot” or “could attract that guy/girl” or “could look good” if you lost ten pounds/changed your make-up/bought different clothes/stopped wearing glasses.  A real friend may look different from you, but she doesn’t doubt for a second that you’re awesome.  Okay, now you’re thinking, wouldn’t a good friend, like, tell me if I had spinach in my front teeth?  Or tell me that a dress I like maybe doesn’t complement my figure?  Yes.  You’re right.  But that’s different.   A real friend wants to help you be the best you you can be, by working with who you already are.  For her, it’s not about making you a different you altogether.  Here’s a test:  if it would annoy you coming out of your mom/grandmother/critical female relative’s mouth, it’s not something your BFF should say (or that you should say to your BFF).

This is me about 8 years ago. Being my goofy self. Arm belongs to a MEAN GIRL.

WARNING SIGN NUMBER TWO: Your new friends always have nasty things to say about your other friends and/or significant other.
Jealousy is ugly, for real.  And one thing all Mean Girls have in common is some funky green-faced action.  The truth is, and you may have heard this before but I’ll say it again, a lot of Mean Girls are secretly super insecure, like the rest of us.  And they don’t want anyone, even their Nerdy Girl Projects, hanging out with other people.  Unless its on their terms.  Like that time they said “We’re going to have a super fun lunch and then get manicures but you can’t come today because we’re having special us time.” (Yeah, that’s a bonus sign. Good friends don’t tell you about good times and then tell you you’re not allowed.) So when they find out you want to go to a concert on Friday with this kid they think is uncool/weird/mean/stupid/ugly, and even when you say “You’re welcome to come but I didn’t know you were into (insert style of music here),” they have to rag on your friend/date/acquaintance and how he’s not good for your reputation.   This?  Major sign your friends are mean girls.  Because a real friend wants to be a part of your life, meaning they want to know the other people in your life, even if they’re different.  (MAJOR EXCEPTION: If your friends don’t want you hanging out with someone because they are ACTUALLY dangerous, i.e., say, a drug dealer?  Or, like, history of violence?  That means they’re looking out for you, not just being jerks.)

The original Mean Girls movie was HEATHERS. Ironically, one of my Mean Girls' favorite films.

WARNING SIGN NUMBER THREE: Your new friends dole out “punishments” for breaking “rules.”
Yes this actually happens.  And yes, it’s happened to me.  And yes, most of the time, I didn’t realize it was happening.  You might not either, which is why I’m, like, filling you in and stuff.  Example: You eat breakfast with your new friends every day for a few weeks and then suddenly they tell you “We don’t know if you should eat breakfast with us today.  You talk a lot and breakfast is quiet time.” (This is verbatim from my REAL LIFE Mean Girl experience. Mean Girls, if you’re out there, I hope you feel SHAME. Um, I also hope you’re not stalking me.) You know what?  If you talk a lot, (or, you know, have some other quirk), that’s part of what makes you YOU.  And our friends aren’t going to like everything about us.  They might even get annoyed at us sometimes (mine sure do!), but that doesn’t mean they get to punish you.  If your friends make you feel  bad about being yourself, that’s a pretty big neon sign that they’re not really your friend.  Unfortunately, Mean Girls are pretty good at making you feel like it’s YOUR FAULT, hence the “rules” and “punishments” scenario.

Sure. Laugh at the Spice Girls. But they knew what it meant to have Girl Power. Girl Power means being there for each other, being true to yourself, and standing up for what's right!

WARNING SIGN NUMBER FOUR: Your new friends always want you to listen to them, but never have time to help you with your problems.
We all know her.  The girl who ALWAYS has something to complain about whether it’s a broken nail or a bad break-up.  And we listen to her problems because that’s what friends do.  We’re there for each other when times are hard, even if it is just a ruined manicure.  But what Mean Girls are good at is making you feel like any time you need to talk you’re interrupting/whining/being needy.  They can make you feel like your problems are not important.  You could be having a really bad day and a Mean Girl would tell you to leave her alone because she’s on the phone/channel surfing/watching paint dry and therfore doesn’t have time for your insignificant issues.  A real friend doesn’t dismiss your problems!  She might say, “Hey, can I call you back?” or “I’m having a bad day too and I’m just not in the mood to talk,” but she doesn’t ignore you completely.  She DOES call you back or hang out another time and LISTEN. Especially if she’s been known to call you in the middle of the night to cry over unrequited love/gaining two pounds/a mom fight.  Relationships are about give and take.  If you realize that all you’re doing is giving, and all your friends are doing is taking, they might just be jerks.  But if they are ALSO making you feel bad about needing someone to lean on, well, they might be Mean Girls, too.

On BUFFY, Cordelia Chase proves that Mean Girls CAN change their tunes!

Alright, readers.  This concludes the E. Kristin Anderson Guide to Avoiding Mean Girls.  I hope you found it both educational and entertaining.  Edutaining if you will.  No?  Can you only use that word if you’re like, an old person trying to be hip?  Well, crap.  I’m caught.   But feel free to leave me some comments on how YOU’ve dealt with Mean Girls (or guys).  Or tell me if you’ve ever caught yourself being a Mean Girl.  Because, you know what?  I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve all been on both sides of that fence!  And, everybody deserves a second chance!  Anyway, I would LOVE to hear your stories!  Being a young adult is tough, and there’s no way anyone should ever tell you different!  The trick is to keep your chin up, and keep as many positive people around you as possible!

In any case, there’s plenty more awesome to come while Ms. Jessica is on her Honeymoon.  I’m looking forward to the rest of the posts!

And remember, even when it’s hard to tell who your friends are, stay true to yourself!  You WILL find the people who love you for who you are, just like I did!  And you can never have too many of THESE kinds of friends!  Peace Out from Austin, Texas, Y’all! <3

Me getting a face-hug in '07 from one of my BFFs FOR LIFE, Katy. Photo by Tony M. Harris.

Okay, so, nice and mean. 

One of the questions I get asked over and over at school visits is, which one of the characters in LEAVING GEE’S BEND are you most like?  While I am tempted to say “Ludelphia,” because she is so delightful and determined and even when she goes astray, is completely motivated by love…. But the real answer is this:  there is something of me in all of the characters – even the villain, Mrs. Cobb.

Where does this meanness come from?  I blame my older brothers.  Particularly Ken, who is just 17 months older.  Ken’s the one who taught me to be “Mean Irene.”  The truth is, I had to be mean, just to survive.

 While I don’t remember it myself, one of my earliest experiences of meanness came when I was an infant.  According to my mother, Ken and Stan tried to kill me with baby powder.

 Later, Ken tormented me in adolescence by saying my new breasts, of which I was so proud, looked like “rat droppings.”

 Lovely, huh.

 And yet, this boy was so charming with all my best friends, that each and every one of them eventually fell head over heels in love with him (no kidding – -he even MARRIED one of my best friends!).  Which left me alone.  And so very angry at Ken!   All this to say, I was completely justified in the meanest thing I ever did to Ken.

See, Ken had a Samson-like thing about his hair.  He was constantly trying new hairstyles.  And at one point, he had this rat tail.  Well.  One night he made me sooo mad, for reasons I can no longer remember.   I waited for him to fall asleep, then I tiptoed into his room.  And, whack!  Say goodbye to rat tail! 

Cruel, huh?

 But oh man, did he deserve it.

 And ladies, tell me the truth:  I did him a favor, didn’t I.  (Love you, Ken!)  To find out more about me or Ludelphia, please visit www.irenelatham.com.  And Jess, thanks for inviting me over!  xo

Hello NICE readers of the blogosphere!
My name is Micol Ostow, and I’m so excited that Jessica was NICE enough to have me here!
(Okay, I’ll stop with that. Promise. Just had to get it out of my system.)

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a young adult author living and working in New York City. Jessica and I met at the amazing Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA in writing for children program, and have since bonded over our mutual love of fiction, young readers, and snark.
You can read more about my books at www.micolostow.com, but this week is ALL ABOUT JESSICA, and NICE AND MEAN, so let’s get to it!

Once upon a time, there was a young, insecure, high-strung little girl who had just graduated from a big scary college and was now thrust into the even bigger, scarier black hole known as the “real world.” The real world was loud. And dirty. And occasionally construction workers would shout things at the girl when she walked to work.
It was awkward.

And, yes, there was this “work” thing. What to say of that? Suddenly there was an alarm clock, and a commute, tepid, stale office coffee, and Xerox copies to made.
The girl, you see, was working for an EDITOR. This meant that she traveled every day to an office teeming in cubicles and, when she’s wasn’t busy answering phones and mailing out contracts, she even sometimes got to help MAKE THE BOOKS.

Despite the airless, windowless cubicle, and the paltry so-called “paycheck,” the girl enjoyed MAKING BOOKS, and working with some of her favorite authors from her own childhood, and would have spent her time editing until the end of her days. Happily.

BUT her fairy-godmother-editor-boss knew something about the girl, which was:
In her own day, back in COLLEGE and even before, she’d been a writer of sorts. The girl had written poems, short stories, and even novellas. These days, she was too busy EDITING to write books.

FGEB had no need to extend a particular kindness to her lowly assistant-girl. AG would have been pleased as punch to while away the hours on such things as cover copy, and the taking of phone messages. But FGEB was fair and benevolent, and offered a gift: the opportunity to contribute a short story to an ANTHOLOGY that the house was organizing.

Reader, she wrote it. AG wrote a story, and then PUBLISHED that story (though it was written under a pseudonym and she has since come a long way and NO I’M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU SO JUST LET IT GO).

And lo, when other editors heard of this, they contacted AG for more and more projects. Ghostwriting, work for hires, and then finally, HER OWN ORIGINAL NOVEL, with her name on the cover and everything.

And now she lives in NYC and works as a writer ALL OF THE TIME, and looks a lot like that gal in the picture above.
Feel free to pre-order her latest forthcoming novel:
http://tinyurl.com/yezmcrh

AG never dreamed it would be possible to make an entire career out of what had once been her passion. So, thanks, FGEB*. That invitation to write was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

*(she knows who she is)

We Need You Badly, Badly, Madam Librarian—Miss Shannon!

That phrase doesn’t scan as well as “Marion the Librarian” in The Music Man, but Louisville’s Portland library does indeed need its Miss Shannon. 

Here to get Miss Shannon’s take on the fun, power, and yes, quiet, of working in a library is my after-school reading class. 

 Aneesha: What do you do most of the time?

Miss Shannon: I help people when they’re working on the computers.  I also answer questions like, “Who was the forty-first president?”

Malcolm: Do you have to be quiet to be a librarian?

Miss Shannon: No.  That’s an idea from a long time ago.  Twenty-five years ago, this job was just about libraries.  Now, it’s about helping people find information, and it’s important to be able to give information back and forth. 

Phillip: Is it fun to be a librarian?

Miss Shannon: My job is just wonderful.  I love best to read, and I love stories and crafts.  I love finding information for people and learning new things.  And I like meeting new kids, too.  You know, my dog died on a Sunday, and first thing on Monday morning, I went in to read to kindergartners because I knew it would make me feel better. 

Daryl: When I went to my dad’s house one day, a dog got ran over.

Miss Shannon: Do you have a question about libraries? 

Phillip: If somebody wants to check out a book, can you help them with that?

Miss Shannon: I can do everything. 

p.s. Miss Shannon would also like you to know that she is not, technically, a librarian.  She does not have her Master’s of Library Science and is therefore a Children’s Library Assistant.  I say, we are just glad you are here for us!