Banana Peelin' with Jeannie Mobley

I feel so incredibly fortunate to be a part of this week's author's, book birthday blog tour. (Whew! Say that five times fast! Actually, scratch that. I  just tried and it wasn't too difficult.)  Ya know, my husband is a huge football fan. Me, not so much. Each Fall and Winter I am exposed to the muffled crowd cheers and the spurts of "yeah, baby!" screams, but rarely do I participate.

When I do choose to root and hoot, it is because there is a reason, a purpose. Like if I find out that so-in-so's quarterback was raised on a banana boat and though he had nothing, he helped little old ladies cross the street until he was drafted to the NFL, I'll watch. It interests me. I hope they do well because they have worked hard or they are nice people.  That is how I feel about this week's author. I have not read her book yet, but I will read it as soon as I can get my paws on it AND I will also buy all of her subsequent work because of the story she shares with us today. I am a loyal, rootin', hootin', fan of this week's author, Jeannie Mobely!

 On August 28th, I celebrated the release of my debut novel, KATERINA'S WISH. Like most debut authors, this was hardly the first manuscript I wrote, or even the first one I sent out in the world seeking publication. And like so many who came before me, my road to publication was strewn with banana peels.

The manuscript that was to become KATERINA'S WISH, however, had some fairly unique slip ups of its own, that I don't think are common to most writers. Most authors think of their first books as their beloved children. That is not quite my story.

The idea for KATERINA'S WISH began with a dream, in which a fish granted me a wish. It was a very vivid, realistic dream, and I woke and lay in bed thinking it would make a good novel. But what  really stuck with me about the dream, and what I set out to capture in my novel, was not the characters or setting, which I changed, but rather a feeling. I was intrigued by the idea of writing a book in which a seemingly magical wish is made and ultimately comes true, but maintaining ambiguity about whether the things that happen are the result of the wish and its magic or are because of what the characters do once hey believe magic helping them.

I wrote a reasonable story, but I didn't capture the feeling, and so I was disappointed with it. I thought I might be able to improve it, but my critique group all liked it as it was, so, against my better judgment, I sent it to my agent. She liked it enough to circulate it, but it came back from four or five editors with the same comments--it was underdeveloped, too skeletal, too simplistic in the plot. My agent and I agreed that it should be pulled from circulation and revised to address those concerns before going out again. Actually, it is what she said, and I nodded my head as if agreeing, but inside I was thinking, "See everybody, I told you so. This manuscript is garbage."

Those of you familiar with tropical fruit, will at once spot many little flashes of yellow in the above paragraph. I, of course, didn't see them for several years.

The first was not trusting my own instinct, and being wooed into disregarding my judgment because it was the easiest rout to go. So I KNEW the story wasn't what it should be, or more importantly what it COULD be, and I sent it out anyway. This has probably been my biggest self-sabotaging flaw throughout my writing career. It is my special cocktail: one part impatience, one part ego, one part laziness, and two parts banana peels. Slippery every time!

Thus far, I think my experience isn't that unique, but what happened next is where it gets weird. I tried to read over the manuscript with an eye toward revision--after all the editors had told me what they wanted. It should have been easy, but as I read, I was filled with a strong revulsion to it--embarrassed that I had ever  thrust such a dreary thing onto my agent and other industry professionals. The characters were dull, the setting more dull, the plot the dullest of all.  Horrified that I had showed it to anyone, I buried it deep in the bottom of a drawer and wrote something else. This slip landed me right on my tailbone!

First, I wrote a flippant little tongue-in-cheek fantasy about a girl who dooms the world with her birthday wish. I thought it was hilarious, so much more interesting than that last ugly manuscript I didn't want to think about!

This manuscript was my rebound relationship--something totally different, uncharacteristic for me, out of control and careless. My agent told me she wanted to strangle my  main character, and asked, "What about Magic Carp?" (the original title of Katerina's Wish).

I got it out, read the first paragraph, and wanted to puke. The revulsion was stronger than ever. So I put it away and went back to an old pet project of mine, one of my favorite story ideas that I originally wrote years ago, before I had the writing chops to pull it off. I wrote happily, savoring my favorite characters, my lovely setting, my exciting and twisting plot.

My critique group hated it. I mean, hated it. One said the plot was predictable, another hated the main character, the third said she could only keep reading because she had to, as my critique partner. The forth smiled kindly and didn't offer a scathing criticism, but kept asking, "What about Magic Carp? I really liked Magic Carp."

Uugh. I hit a new low. How could I ever make it at as a writer if I was this blind? The things I loved, others hated. The thing I hated, everyone else loved. What was wrong with me?

By the time I got Magic Carp out again, nearly two years had passed. Two years without a manuscript on submission, because I couldn't come up with anything that I loved and others loved as well.  So, feeling doomed and at the end of my rope, I pulled Magic Crap (as I was affectionately calling it) out again. I read most of the first chapter before dissolving into tears and deleting the entire file from my hard drive. I absolutely couldn't face it.  Couldn't. Face. It.

So, I began the rewrite from scratch, not revising anything old, but starting over completely. I hated the character. I hated the plot. I hated the ugly, boring, awful setting. And mostly, I hated myself for being such a total loser that I couldn't see the difference between good and bad.

Except for that last part--the scarring self-loathing part--my revulsion turned out to be a good thing. Because my failure to identify with the character meant I wasn't sinking into her character as I wrote, so I could focus more on my craft--on the actual words I was putting on the page. And as for hating the ugly, boring, awful setting? Well, that's exactly how the MC feels about her setting, so it wasn't too hard to capture her misery.

Still, I kept sending chapters to my critique group, thinking, "this is the chapter where they will finally agree that this is boring garbage and I can stop writing it."  But my critique partners kept telling me it was great, they loved it, they couldn't wait to see what happened next. And I kept saying, "really? It isn't horribly dull?"

I tried to quit several times, and was nagged into continuing by those critiquers. I flung manuscript pages across the living room in three-year-old tantrum style more than once. I angrily scribbled out passages so hard that the pen went through the paper and scarred the table top.  Yeah. I was totally mature about it all. It was, without a doubt, the most miserable six months of my writing career thus far (and hopefully ever!) But at the end of it, I sent the manuscript to my agent, who said she loved it, and who sent it to an editor, who also loved it, and it sold.

This is not a trajectory to publication that I would wish on anyone, but the lesson I learned, all too late in the process, is to trust the advice of others. I know, this contradicts my earlier statement, to follow my own feelings, but I think I had to learn a balance.

I struggled for months after the sale of the manuscript, because I still didn't like the main character. Trina seemed dull, utterly flat, predictable. And yet, everyone who liked the book talked about how much they liked her. I was at an utter loss as to why, until my agent told me, '"you can't see what's great about her, because she's too close to you. She's just like you, so she seems ordinary and predictable to you, but what makes her a great character is what makes you a great person."

Of course, being wrapped in my own loathing and self-pity, I thought, "oh, great, I'm just as boring as my character." And I spent a long time feeling guilty and hypocritical, because the theme of KATERINA'S WISH is to persevere and make your dream happen, against all odds, and the manuscripts that were my dreams were moldering in a drawer while the one I didn't believe in was getting published.

In the immortal words of Homer Simpson, "Doh!" That was my final banana peel. Because I was just like Trina. I had achieved the dream of publication against some pretty large odds--working through and persevering with the manuscript that had promise, even when I couldn't see it. Putting my faith and determination into something, even when it wasn't coming easy to me.  How could I not see that?

 I finally saw it when the book was all formatted and my first pass pages came to me. These are camera ready pages, looking exactly as they will in the final book.  By then, it had someone else's title (my editor came up with it),  the artist's vision on the cover and interior pages, the designer's choice of font, etc.  In other words, I got some separation because it was no longer my manuscript, it had transformed into Simon and Schuster's book. And I read through and discovered, "there's some good stuff in here. So that's what they've all been talking about!"

I feel pretty good about the book now. I can embrace it, and it's characters.. It is my debut novel, the critics have spoken well of it, and it's got one sweet, tough character who people love, and who might even be a bit like me. And as for all those banana peels? I'm using them as compost to fertilize the garden of my muse.

Banana Peelin' with Mira Reisberg

My beautiful post about Mira Reisberg was sucked into the Blogger black hole. What has worked before, did not work today. An unexplained mystery. Argh!  I sincerely apologize for the delay. =(

Friends, countrymen, lend me your ears...shhhh....we are SO incredibly lucky to have the Picture Book Whisperer, Dr. Mira Reisberg on the blog today. I love Mira and her passion for children's literature. I faithfully watch her blog series, Mondays With Mira: Pleasurable Picture Book Reviews each Monday morning. Monday mornings are now just as exciting and entertaining to me as an instant Netflix Friday Night Lights marathon!

Can I tell you that I will be participating in Mira's ecourse, Hero's Art Journey? Come join me! Writing and art go hand and hand. Both creative, both cathartic, healing even the deepest of paper cuts. In fact, if you are a banana peeler, Mira is offering half off her course! Lucky dogs! Please join me and become part of a creative community of learners!

Please help welcome the wonderful and wise, Dr. Mira Reisberg!

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Mira Reisberg’s Very Own Confessional Slip Ups

Hullo all,

Having been involved in the picture book field for a long time, I’ve managed to make quite a few slip-ups, perhaps more than my share and definitely humbling. And, being a long-time teacher, I am going to share 3 of them, despite the accompanying embarrassment that comes with admitting what some refer to as f*$%-ups, messes, boo-boos, or slips. I’ll just call them “growth experiences” for now.

My first growth experience occurred in 1988 when I was asked to illustrate my first book. Uncle Nacho’s Hat was a book about change and it came just as I was quitting a bunch of bad habits and undergoing many changes myself.

So here I was illustrating a picture book about change and going through a whole bunch of changes myself and by the time I got to one particular painting, I was totally pooped. I tell you these details as a bit of an excuse or as background as to why I messed up and created what I now call my “Painting of Shame.” You see, when I did my research on cows in Nicaragua, where the story is set, I found that they had Brahmins, which are somewhat strange looking animals. But my cows were way stranger than that. Mine were weird pink mutant pig/cows. And even though I knew I should re-do this painting, I was just so tired – so I said “screw it,” or something like that.

Well, of course, it’s now over twenty years later and when I look at that book and that painting, you can imagine what I think.

Fortunately, despite the weird mutant pig/cow thingies, the book received a citation for a UNICEF Ezra Jack Keats award, was featured on Reading Rainbow and read aloud by LeVar Burton (yay!) and reprinted in many languages around the world, selling well over 200,000 copies. And the really good news is that it’s being re-released by Lee and Low in July (yay again).

So lessons learned: Always revise, revise, revise! Whether it’s text or art, and if you get too tired, take a break and come back to it because it might be 20 plus years later and you still have to live with that embarrassing painting of shame.

Growth Experience #2

Years later, I was in graduate school studying for my MFA, working 5 jobs to pay for it and I was asked to illustrate a book for another publisher. Needing money, I said yes. Even though I liked the story, it didn’t thrill me the way my other books had and when the story switched hands to another editor and changed completely, I was less than gracious in my responses to lots of major changes in the art. Coming from an expressive culture of Eastern European Jews who even have an affectionate word for complaining, “kvetching,” I kvetched quite eloquently about my displeasure with the changes and was never hired by this publisher again.

Lesson learned: Always be super gracious with editors and art directors and just say yes to whatever they want. Save your complaining for your family unless you have real ethical or narrative concerns with the book you are working on.

Growth Experience #3

Even more years later, I’m invited to do some school visits as an illustrator/author and present at the local university. While there, I’m talked into moving there and doing a PhD. By then, I’ve done lots of school visits empowering thousands of kids and teachers with my Painting of Shame and stories about immigration, being weird, and how creative people often get their creative ideas by paying attention to what’s  around them. I’d also been teaching children’s book writing and illustrating at UC Berkeley Extension and SF City College and many of my students had been successfully published, so I decided, why not!

It was the hardest thing I ever did writing a 370 page dissertation on children’s picture books and learning about them on a whole other level. This was the good part. Then I got a job in the Midwest and that was the bad part. I hated the systems of surveillance, having to write using obtuse language and publish or perish, the meanness that went on in the institution, and the constant grading to rubrics that left little room for those who were wildly creative but unable to reach the benchmarks. I had no time for writing kids books or making art and I hated who I was becoming.

We’d left a fabulous rent controlled apartment in San Francisco and a fantastic community of friends and even tho we couldn’t afford to move back to SF, we did move back  to Northern California. All in all I took a seven year detour from doing what I truly love teaching for learning rather than the grade, and making art and picture books. I’d followed the illusion of potential financial security with a “real job” and buying a house and then lost it all after realizing that I was not an institutional type of person. During the 9 years that I was not actively in the field, my main publisher went out of business (and was recently sold to Lee and Low) and the industry has gotten much harder to get into to.

I still miss San Francisco and am working on some exciting picture books of my own. I also began independently teaching picture book courses in Sacramento and doing picture book consulting via Skype (ooh and I’ll be launching the Picture Book Academy in August ). But sometimes I feel like I messed-up leaving San Francisco and making that long detour into academia, following my head rather than my heart.

Lesson learned: Always follow your heart and if you have a passion for making children’s picture books - don’t give up on it no matter how enticing something else may look.

BIO

Mira Reisberg is the award-winning illustrator of six picture books and co-author of two award-winning anthologies of stories and art. Mira received her MFA from Mills College in Painting and Digital Art. She received her PhD in Education and Cultural Studies from Washington State University. Mira is also an editor, instructor/mentor and picture book consultant whose students’ award-winning books, including New York Times best sellers, have sold over a million copies. Mira has also exhibited nationwide and internationally.

She now teaches online courses including the Hero’s Art Journey, which explores the archetypal hero’s arc underlying most plot driven books and mythology. To find out more visit www.herosartjourney.com. And for Banana Peelin readers, Mira is extending the half-off special for the next course starting June 4th - simply email her at miraguy AT gmail.com. If you are in the Northern California area, Mira also has 2 spectacular upcoming picture book offerings also in June. To find out more and receive special gifts, join her newsletter tribe here http://eepurl.com/hJCmQ or email her directly.

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I love this woman! What else could you want from a teacher?! Hope to see you in Hero's Art Journey! Thanks so much Mira for your contribution to the series!