Return No More to Bone Tree Hill

Two weeks ago I received notice from Thistledown Press that my YA mystery, Return to Bone Tree Hill (2009), was going out of print. The book was shortlisted for many awards and had a 17-year run, but it's still sad to think it's over.

It's not the first time this has happened! I have published 30 books, and over the years publishers have closed the book (pardon the pun) on 8 of them. Add to that four more books that I clawed back after publication when the publisher didn't live up to her end of the contract. That's twelve titles (almost half the total!) that are now out of print.

That could be depressing if I thought about it too much. But I don't like being depressed, so I shan't go there. Instead I choose to remember the elation I felt when all those books were born.

My very first published book was The Runaways (Kids Can Press/1997). It took 2 1/2 years for it to morph from first draft to finished book. For a year I worked with the editor (without a contract) while we tried to find the story and I got a crash course in the craft of writing. The editor got paid, but I was a project. The publisher/editor saw potential in my writing and wanted to see if it could go anywhere. How wonderful is that! Do publishing houses even do that sort of thing anymore?

I remember -- before the book came out -- someone asking me if I was going to use a pen name. I thought that was the craziest question. Why would I make up a name? I wanted people to know I was the writer. Heck, I planned on hanging out in the bookstore, beside my book, making sure everyone knew I was the author.

My second book was released 2 years later. I had thought after one published book, my foot was in the door, and the publisher would be chomping at the bit for anything else I had to offer. Apparently not. Kids Can Press wasn't interested, but Thistledown Press was. And so, The Tomorrow Tunnel was published. It was probably one of my least successful books, but I'm happy to have written it.

In 2002, Orca Books published The Gramma War. I think this is the book that firmly established a place for me in the writing community. The story had been turned down by several publishers before I sent it to Orca. But I guess this time it landed on the right desk, because within 3 weeks, Bob Tyrrell sent me a contract in the mail. The book was a great success -- well-reviewed and short-listed for many book prizes. It also marked the beginning of a long publishing relationship with Orca. They have published 12 of my 30 books.

I remember being unhappy with the cover, when I first saw it. It wasn't that I disliked the artwork; it was that I didn't think it accurately represented the story I'd written. The cover was comical and quirky, and my story was of a more serious nature. The thing is the booksellers must have liked the cover, because my book was inevitably shelved face out. My son listened to my complaints and then offered philosophically, "If the cover gets people to buy the book, that's the important thing. Then they'll read it and understand what you were trying to say."

The publication of each new book brought a special excitement, (that's a feeling that never gets old) but after a while, friends and family have come to see new publications as simply part of what I do. They're happy for me, of course, and they still read the books, but the flowers and wine and picture-taking have dropped off.

For me though, writing and publishing will always be magical, because my heart and soul are in every book -- even the ones that haven't been published. If you're a writer, you'll know exactly what I mean.

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Back to the Drawing Board

In February I tore a ligament in my wrist, though it wasn't diagnosed until the end of April, at which point I decided to further aggravate the situation and sprain my wrist as well so the torn ligament would have company. (Hey, if you're going to do something, go big!)

Anyway, long story short, I haven't done any art since January. My wrist isn't 100% yet, but it's definitely better than it was, so I figured it was time I took a break from writing and picked up the pencil and paintbrush again. The result: 4 pictures in a week. Though I am in my happy place with a pencil in my hand, painting has always been a struggle.

At this juncture, I wanted to play with light and shadow, explore foreshortening, and try (yet again) to paint more loosely, using bigger brushes and telling myself things don't have to be perfect. Good thing too, because the painting of the puddle-jumper is pretty rough. I shall likely never be able to paint with abandon, but every now and then I feel the need to give it a try.

Thanks for reading. See you next month. Observations and greetings welcome in the comments section.

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