Barnstorming on an Invisible Segway

So with most of my list completed, I went and worked on this next chapter, and I got it done, and so here we are. (For anybody just stopping in, I'm writing a children's book whose chapters are centered around the signs of the Chinese zodiac. I'm musing about children's books centered around each sign as I finish the corresponding chapter.)

The dog page at the CCC says, People born in the Year of the Dog possess the best traits of human nature. They have a deep sense of loyalty, are honest, and inspire other people¡¦s confidence because they know how to keep secrets. But Dog People are somewhat selfish, terribly stubborn, and eccentric. There's more than that, but I'm already caught: children's books focus nearly obsessively on dog virtues. Honesty, loyalty, and being able to keep secrets appropriately: is there anything more scorned in children's books than a tattletale? Maybe a crybaby, but that's about it.

So very many children's books -- even the ones that are not excessively didactic -- focus around lessons of loyalty. Standing by your friends. Is this wish-fulfillment for bookish kids who don't have many friends or who have found the playground particularly fickle? I have to say that loyalty was not a prime virtue of the kids I knew when I was little. What else are children's books implicitly teaching at that level of focus? (Not a rhetorical question -- please discuss.)

For those of you coming late to this party, I'm musing about writing this book and about children's books in particular, around different signs of the Chinese zodiac as I finish each corresponding chapter. Tonight it was the chapter of the Ox. The San Francisco Chinese Cultural Center page says, People born in the Year of the Ox are patient, speak little, and inspire confidence in others. They tend, however, to be eccentric, and bigoted, and they anger easily. They have fierce tempers and although they speak little, when they do they are quite eloquent. Ox people are mentally and physically alert. Generally easy-going, they can be remarkably stubborn, and they hate to fail or be opposed.

Hmmm.

One hopes not to write a bigoted children's book. An angry, fierce children's book, though? Well...not this one. But I don't see anything wrong with it, quite frankly. A lot of children's books are gentle, and that's fine, even good. Sometimes it's a welcome break from adult and young adult novels, which can be a bit stormy by comparison. But I think that there's a place for a kids' book to get angry about things that are upsetting.

Also, I'm a bit bothered by the role of anger in children's books. I'm thinking back as far as Little Women, possibly further, and the emphasis seems to be on controlling one's temper to the point that any anger is bad. And I don't think that's so. I think it's disproportionate anger that's bad. Being mildly annoyed is not the worst sin ever, or to take a newer source than Little Women, anger does not necessarily lead to hate any more than fear leads to anger. Sometimes anger leads to action. Sometimes anger leads to change. Sometimes anger leads to self-defense. Sure, kids have to learn to handle it when they're angry, but that doesn't mean by squishing it down and never acknowledging that it exists -- or that it could actually have a valid root cause.

Too much anger in a kids' book is likely to be strident and unpleasant to read, and kids generally have the sense to reject things that are unpleasant to read if they possibly can. Sensibly so. But that doesn't mean all anger in children's books ought to be a party-line rubber-stamp of the "sit down and calm down" lessons Jo March and Anne Shirley get. Some things in the world require us to sit down and calm down. Others require us to stand up. If we don't admit to kids that the difference exists, they'll never learn how to apply it.

Ew, is this more of a theme in Girl Books? I begin to suspect that it is, but I'd welcome any data for or against that theory.

(Although with the Anne Shirley reference I don't want to be unfair to L.M. Montgomery -- Emily Starr's temper is often a good and self-defensive thing, and in fact I wish it showed up more often where appropriate. And it seems pretty clear that Valancy's taking too much of the "sit down and calm down" lessons to heart are at the root of her problems in The Blue Castle.)

As for the rest of the Ox description -- well, I hope this chapter inspires confidence in the rest of the book for me. That'd be nice. It was patient enough with me, a titch at a time until the thing was done. Good way to go, I guess.

Anyway. If my dog is to be believed, there is an ax-murderer/serial-rapist lurking on the doorstep, just waiting to batter the door down, but only if he/she has insufficient indication that there is a watch poodle within. For some reason asking her, "Dog, why are you psycho?" is not helping matters. Further steps seem required.

As I told timprov, I didn't start this morning with my usual zest. I started it with lime zest instead. ("Which is your usual?" he asked. I suspect lemon.) The zester is getting quite a workout with these citrus kiss cookies. I'm not sure if the lime ones were a good idea (haven't frosted them yet, so they're not done). I'm not even sure if the lemon ones were. But the orange ones are keepers for sure. They taste sunshiney and real.

I got a very neat link to this blog, whose person is making Jolasveinar with needle felting. She's showing one per day until Christmas: the thirteen Christmas goblins or thirteen little men of Christmas in Iceland. I'm totally charmed and will be checking each morning for Spoon-licker, Candle-beggar, and all the rest.

Last night I finished the Horse chapter in Zodiac House. For those of you who are new or weren't reading for extreme detail, I've decided to make silly rambly posts about writing children's books and this book in specific for the different signs of the Chinese Zodiac after I finish the corresponding chapters. The Chinese Cultural Center in San Francisco is the source of the descriptions I'm using. I've already done the Ram.

The Horse: hey, that's mine! People born in the Year of the Horse are popular. Why, thank you, internet! They are cheerful, skillful with money, and perceptive, although they sometimes talk too much. It's like they really know me! :) They are wise, talented, good with their hands, and sometimes have a weakness for members of the opposite sex. I refrain from comment on this matter. If you're wise, you will, too. Concentrate on the wise and talented; that's much safer. They are impatient and hot-blooded about everything except their daily work. Aaaaand here's where we go astray: I am impatient and hot-blooded about my daily work, thank you very much! (Picked the right field, didn't I?) They like entertainment and large crowds. Hah. First: who says, "I don't like entertainment"? "No entertainment for me, thanks, I'd prefer to be bored"? But large crowds: no. Thank you, no. They are very independent and rarely listen to advice. Umm. Probably not, comparatively speaking. I think I'm pretty middle-of-the-road when it comes to advice.

But that's me. What about writing children's books, and what about this chapter? It is in some ways very cheerful. It's the kind of cheer I think I'm particularly good at: cheer in the face of impending and certain doom. (Why am I good at it? Because it's practically all I write. Here we go singing to our deaths, la la yay! Bloody-minded optimist, that's me: we're all going to die, but it's going to be pretty cool on the way.) Is this chapter impatient? You know, I think it is. I think I may need, in revisions, to pay attention to it being a bit more deliberate, to taking more time in the confrontation. It's not the climax of the book, but it's a pretty big event. Children's books need to be brief but not hurried (not talking too much! not impatient! it is hard to be the Horse chapter). When I look back at favorite children's books, I'm often startled by how short they are. Lloyd Alexander can pack more punch into a page than most adult writers can into a trilogy.

One thing I'm noticing about this chapter -- this book in general, but the "weakness for the opposite sex" sparked the thought -- is that it is not particularly heterosexual -- nor particularly homosexual, bisexual, etc. Most of the characters are either magical constructs or related to each other. This is not one of those children's books where you can close the book and think, "The author has set those two up to grow up and get married." There is no plausible combination for that. And as a respite between Sampo and What We Did to Save the Kingdom, it's kind of nice not to have that kind of tension between characters. It's nice to have a story where nobody is using anybody else for anything in particular. I can't get used to it, though, and by the time I'm done, I'll be ready to write all the sex scenes in WWDtStK at once, just for a refreshing change in the other direction. (Watch me gripe about them when I get there, though. Just watch.) This is not entirely a facet of writing for the younger markets. When I wrote Fortress of Thorns and The Grey Road in quick succession, it was a very different thing, because the main characters were in junior high and not mostly related to each other, so there was sexual tension up the gazoo (as my grandmother would say), and absolutely no possibility of doing anything at all with it. None. People who think of childhood as a land of infinite possibilities stretching before oneself need to remember how childhood at the time often feels like a land of infinite constraint. But in ZH, those constraints are not active. No one is telling Kathryn and Dustin they can't go out and get into serious romantic/sexual relationships because they're only 13. It's just that there's no one for miles to have them with. They have other things on their mind for the summer. Like I did when I was visiting my grandmother's house, only with, y'know, more crazy magic stuff than Grandma had available.

Or at least more than she was willing to let on.

Naming characters has snuck up on me again. I was Not Writing a bit of Zodiac House, and Tabitha said, "If you give me a speech about being grateful for any magic powers at all, I will kick you. I just want that known." And then I knew why her name was Tabitha -- of course that's why -- my brain is doing secret homage. Secret Ellen Raskin homage.

Sometimes it bugs me that I'm the last one to spot these things. Mostly it just amuses me, though.

I think noodling around with a fun children's novel is perfectly well within the spirit of International Bonbons and Movie Magazines Month. But then, so would something a bit more focused and directed. Hmmm. I need to have a long look at a list or two, and then we will see. In the meantime, Tabitha has not had to kick anybody in several thousand words, and that's something, at least.