SCBWI Conference
What a whirlwind of inspiration and information!
Vesper and Jane Yolen. Check out my necklace by Angela Houk!
First of all, if in any way you have even the most remote desire to be in the world of children’s publishing, attending at least one of these conferences is a must. Joining SCBWI is the first little baby step you must take. It’s uber-cheap ($85 for the first year, $70 each year thereafter), and will clear away common misconceptions, fears, loneliness and bad breath all in one magical formula. But seriously, one of the resounding themes I heard among my peers is that the conference did so much to clear away that bad friend, Fear of Failure. Come on, when someone like the titan Jane Yolen gets up and tells you that, after 300 books, she still gets rejections, it clarifies the fact that it’s just a system like any other. I keep telling myself: People Make a Living At This. They do. It’s just as hard to do it well as any other career. Sure, there’s a whole lot more self-motivation involved, so if you are used to a 9-5 job where you are given your tasks and you dutifully do them as you are told, it may be a hard learning curve. Or if, like me, you’ve gotten the last ten years of work merely by word of mouth, you just need to remind yourself that, in a way, you’re making a lateral move to another branch of your industry. It means meeting a new set of people, dusting off your interpersonal skills, and taking some chances, but come on: after eight years of art school and countless critiques, what is a rejection letter but a helpful suggestion in the end?
As I was walking to the conference on Friday, thinking about placing my portfolio in the juried exhibition, the thought occurred to me that the life I have chosen, being a freelancer, is one constant audition. There’s a sense after you get out of college, or get a steady job, or if you haven’t had to pound the pavement in a while, that your days of auditioning are over–that somehow, if you can land that One Big Break, you’ll never have to put yourself out there again–that no one will be able to reject you (ahem, that is, your work, not you) ever again. Thank goodness that Jane Yolen exposed that theory. In another post, maybe I’ll give you some of her 20 rules of writing. I’m not sure if that’s kosher, so I’ll just put up some of them.
Vesper and Paul O. Zelinsky
I also met Paul O. Zelinsky, who gave a really interesting opening address detailing some of his work methods at the Illustrator’s Intensive (again, a must if you are getting ready to do this). Even though I don’t really have the desire to paint as meticulously and classically as Paul does (though Swamp Angel is a work to be reckoned with!), his gorgeous princesses evoke in me that same feeling as did Hilary Knight in his Cinderella–the book that taught me how to draw. I would copy that book endlessly, trying to get every detail, every curve exactly right, as if I were in a Master Class with Knight himself. I’m just crazy about Zelinsky’s work, and I plan to go back to “school” with his Rapunzel and Rumpelstiltsken.
One more highlight I’d like to point out was hearing (and meeting) the inimitable Jaqueline Woodson speak at the luncheon address. I cannot believe this woman writes for children (mostly YA fiction). What I mean by that is, her writing (and the memorized recitation she did of her work) is so poetic, so real, it had me openly weeping several times during her speech. I promptly went to the first bookstore I found and grabbed a copy of If You Come Softly, a beautiful depiction of first love between people of different races. It challenges your unconscious assumptions without becoming a diatribe. I bought it yesterday at 5:00 pm, and by 7:00 I was almost done. If I hadn’t fallen asleep so early last night (these conferences are exhausting–be prepared!), I would have finished it. I had the pleasure of meeting her, and recommending to her (based on her children’s book, Show Way) the beautiful book by Libby Hathorn and illustrated by Benny Andrews, Sky Sash So Blue. Both books are about slaves piecing together fabric to create treasures for their families: in Woodson’s book, quilts; in Hathorn’s, a wedding dress. Woodson was approachable and warm, and I am now 3 degrees removed from Pete Seeger himself. (I’ll leave that a mystery.)
I’ll be blogging more and updating my website in the weeks to come, so stay tuned. In the meantime, visit me on Facebook and Twitter.
