Janice Shefelman's Blog, page 2

JANICE:  There is a price to pay for great love, and that is great loss. My soulmate, my husband, my book partner, and the father of our two sons, Karl and Daniel, passed away last Christmas. Tom and I were like one and now I am one-half. The only respite comes from the love of my family, close friends, and my work.
  
Our HomeTom gave his artistic talent, his strength, his humor, his gentle manliness to our sons. They say he was their first and best teacher. He also left a legacy of his award winning architectural designs - churches, libraries, schools, and homes, including ours. And he left illustrated children's books and watercolor paintings of scenes from all over the world. Thus he achieved immortality.

Bethany United Methodist ChurchOn the Edge: Santorini








Illustration from  I, VivaldiWe met in Aspen Colorado, during the Christmas holidays of 1953. After our courtship and marriage we set out on a yearlong trip around the world. Along the way Tom sketched and painted what he saw.

Jaipur, India
Tom always made birthday cards for me, all of which I have saved. Here is one of his most recent, and it breaks my heart. Inside he wrote:

Dear Janice,
Queen of my life!
May I forever sit beside you!
Love,











Yes, Tom, you will forever sit beside me.

I know Tom wants me to go on writing books for children and young adults, and I'm doing so for both him and me. The current work in progress is a historical novel set in ancient Egypt, called I, Nefertiti. I never write about a place I have not seen and experienced. My second trip there was with Tom. In the presence of the pyramids Tom and I stood and marveled at their sheer size that dwarfs the humans flocking around, and at the ingenuity of their builders. As Tom said, "I feel privileged to stand here. The reality is worth a thousand pictures."

I feel privileged to love this man. The reality is worth a thousand tears.

JANICE:  There are writers who can create fantasy and contemporary fiction but I am not one of them. As for fantasy, I don't read it so how can I write it? Contemporary fiction is beyond my abilities because I don't understand the present! My passion is reading and writing historical fiction. I love to bring the past alive. So much research of the past exists in libraries, online, and onsite that helps me understand the times and gives me ideas for story.

The problem is that historical fiction is not as popular today as fantasy and contemporary fiction. There is little market for the genre so publishers are not publishing it. My question is why? Is historical fiction not a form of fantasy? It brings the past alive with characters that a young reader can relate to? What better way to learn history than through a well-researched novel like the following:

Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes, about a young apprentice silversmith during the American revolution who becomes involved with the Sons of Liberty.



The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare, that tells of a young Israeli boy who is revolting against the Roman occupation.

Wolf by the Ears by Ann Rinaldi, the story of an unacknowledged daughter of Thomas Jefferson and his house slave, Sally Hemings.



















  
Cleopatra's Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter, the story of Cleopatra's daughter who is taken to Rome when Egypt is conquered.

Comanche Song by Janice Shefelman, that tells about the clash between the Comanches and the Texans from the viewpoint of the son of a Comanche peace chief.


The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff, the story of a young Roman centurion in Britain whose cause is to discover what happened to his father's Ninth Legion when they marched north and never returned.

JANICE: Once I did an author visit with fourth graders to talk about  A Paradise Called Texas, the story of my German ancestors' immigration to Texas in 1845, which they had all read. Afterward the teacher told me that one of her students had just lost his father and took great comfort in reading how life went on for Mina, the main character, after her mother died.
Cover art by Karl ShefelmanLater I received a letter from that student. Here, in part, is what he wrote:

Dear  Frau Shefelman,
I want to be a poet. Did you start out as a poet?
Have you ever had a moment of grief in your life? I have.
Sincerely,
Marshal

I was stunned. A moment of grief?! I have always been amazed at how young readers relish the sad parts of books. But now I understand that they are practicing life by reading about others. That is why children's literature is so important. We all need practice. So I wrote back:

Dear Marshal,
No, I did not start out as a poet, but that could be your way. And
yes, I have had a moment of grief. No one escapes such a moment. It is what makes us thoughtful human beings and even poets.
Your book friend,
Janice Shefelman

Looking back on my other books I see that many of my characters have had a moment of grief. In Anna Maria's Gift, her father dies, leaving a violin he made for her that seems to hold his voice. When she loses the violin, it is as if she loses her father again.

Cover art by Robert Papp
Cover art by Tom ShefelmanIn Young Wolf and Spirit Horse, his beloved mare is stolen and Young Wolf's grief sends him off on a quest.

In Sophie's War, her father must join up to fight in the Civil War. When she learns of a massacre on the Nueces River, she fears that he is dead and makes a dangerous journey to find his body.

Cover art by Tom Shefelman
Cover art by Tom ShefelmanAnd finally in Comanche Song, Tsena's father, the peace chief, is killed in the Council House Massacre along with many others. Tsena joins his tribe in seeking revenge.

Never underestimate the depth of thought of which children are capable.

JANICE: Here is Hazel who is ten years old and a "great reader," according to her grandmother who keeps her supplied with books, including two of mine. She is also being a good model for her cousin, Athena (a name to live up to).
Hazel is the kind of reader every author dreams of - intent and absorbed in the story. Look closely and you can see she is reading Anna Maria's Gift, my latest chapter book. Notice how lovingly she holds it. She even looks like the girl on the cover. Hopefully as she reads, Hazel will become Anna Maria.
Behind her on the couch is another book, Sophie's War, a historical novel set in Comfort, Texas, during the Civil War.
Thank you for being a great reader, Hazel. Now I can go back to work on a first draft of I, Nefertiti with renewed vigor. My author-reader story is quite different from an experience Sinclair Lewis had after publishing Main Street back in the 1920s. He was crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Elizabeth for a vacation in Europe. As he strolled the deck, Lewis spied a woman sitting in a deck chair, reading his latest book. Excitedly he hid behind a post to watch her reaction. Suddenly she slammed it shut, stepped over to the rail, and tossed it into the ocean! Every author's nightmare.As for Hazel, not only is she a reader, she wants to be a writer. And she doesn't just want to be, she is a writer. This summer she is attending a summer writing camp and already submitting her work for publication!Next comes acceptance or rejection. Acceptance is glorious, but rejection can be good, too. To find out how, read my blog, "Good and Bad Rejections," posted on June 27, 2010.

JANICE:  Meet Halima, my new writing partner. I needed a model for a character in my historical novel-in-progress and found Halima at our Whole Foods store. She was sitting on a top shelf, watching everyone that passed by. I stopped. "It's Halima!" I said to Tom.  "And it's your birthday," he said. She leaped down, with the help of an employee, and into our grocery cart. As we wheeled her across the parking lot, Halima attracted a lot of attention and photos.  Now she sits beside me at my desk.


















She may not be alive but she is a real presence, with her keen golden eyes. Bringing her alive is my job. Her ears perk when I talk to her, and I can hear her loud purr as I stroke her soft furry head and neck. Sometimes she chirps to call me to my desk. If I don't come she growls. Look at the black "tear marks" that run from the corners of her eyes down the sides of her nose to her mouth. These marks keep sunlight out of her eyes so she can see long distances when she hunts. Halima can run up to 75 miles an hour for a short time to catch her prey. Otherwise, she is content to sit by my side and watch.

JANICE:  French for Wit from the Staircase: Meaning, as you leave the party in a friend's apartment and start downstairs, you think of the perfect answer to someone's remark, too late to say it. Which is one reason I write books. It gives me time to think of what my characters need to say.

I remember working on A MARE FOR YOUNG WOLF at our dining room table (before I had a real studio). Young Wolf has just been thrown off his horse in front of two other boys. What does he say or do? He's angry and humiliated. Maybe he curses, I thought. But what words? Suddenly they came. "Oh, buffalo chips!" I had a good laugh. As did my editor at Random House, Mallory Loehr, and her colleagues.


At the end of A PEDDLER'S DREAM when Solomon, a peddler, finally realizes his dream of having an elegant store of his own, he and his beloved Marie host an opening party. When the musicians begin to play, Solomon takes Marie's hand and asks if she will dance with an old peddler whose dream has come true.

What meaningful words could she say? What was this story about? I asked myself. It's about a dream, making a dream come true. I put myself in her place, looked up at Solomon's expectant face, and my answer came. "A peddler with a dream is more than a peddler."
They danced and so did we.

Solomon and MarieJanice and Tom















Now for COMANCHE SONG, my historical novel set in the Hill Country of Texas in 1840. This is the story of  a Comanche boy, son and grandson of peace chiefs. 
We are in a council meeting where the tribal leaders are discussing how to deal with white man's invasion. After the peace chief has proposed establishing a line between them and making peace, the war chief says, "The tejanos will stop at no such line. The only way to show them the land is ours is to kill any man who steps upon it!"
It is Grandfather who replies: "We have a saying among our people that the brave die young. But I say, the wise grow old." The corner of his mouth twitched, and he paused. "When the young stop listening to the elders, they run blindly like buffalo and follow one another over the cliff to die."
I love it.
And finally some words from SOPHIE'S WAR, another historical novel set in the Hill Country, this one during the Civil War.  Sophie is the daughter of German immigrants, many of whom were Unionists in a state that had seceded from the Union. They were called traitors and persecuted by Confederate ruffians who burned their cabins and hanged their men. Sophie's father is an editorial cartoonist who expresses his Unionist views and thus is in danger. Sophie must find a way to save their family.
She comes home from school one day and finds Papa at work on a cartoon about the death of Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston in a battle with Unionists. Boldly she grabs the cartoon from his drawing board and tears it in two, saying he can't send it to the newspaper. 
"I'm afraid the Vigilance Committee will come after you."Papa laid down his pen and stood. "I have been patient with your fears, Sophie, but this is going too far." He reached out his hand. "Now, give it back"I shook my head.
What can Papa say? He brought his family to Texas so they would be free to speak their minds. After going downstairs, I thought of his reply. And it involved William Tell.
"Sophie, do you want to let the Vigilance Committee rule the world? If so, go ahead, tear the cartoon into a thousand little pieces, and I'll cower at their feet. Is that what you want - a coward for a father?"I shook my head. Oh, what did I want?"Do you think I'm not afraid too?" Papa asked."I don't know, Papa. Aren't you like William Tell?""I try to be, but he was afraid when he was forced to shoot an apple from his son's head. Remember how his arm trembled?""I remember.""But he did what he had to do. And I will do no less, even if I have to draw the cartoon again. In times like these we all have to do what we are afraid to do."
He did and so did Sophie.

JANICE:  Tom's illustrations for our picture book biography, I, Papa Haydn, are now finished and sent to the publisher in Seoul. Since it will be published in Korean, you may never see the cover with an English title like this one — but you might. Hopefully an American publisher will buy the foreign rights because we need to keep up with those Koreans!



















And here is the full wraparound cover painting. It shows Haydn performing for his patron, Prince Esterhazy, at his summer palace in Hungary. We visited this palace on a cold winter's day and found it closed. If you want to know how we managed to get in, see "Research Adventure," posted here on January 24, 2010. Tom took photographs of the Music Salon where Haydn and his orchestra performed for the prince, his family, and friends.

The illustration below shows Papa Haydn and his orchestra performing the "Farewell Symphony" in the Music Salon. One year Prince Esterhazy stayed so long in his palace that summer turned into fall. The musicians, who were not allowed to bring their families, were anxious to return home to Vienna. One of them asked "Papa" Haydn to tell the Prince it was time to go back. Haydn said, "A servant does not tell his prince what to do. But maybe I can think of a way to hint." And he did — with music.

He composed the "Farewell Symphony," and the orchestra performed it. One by one each musician's part ended. He blew out his candle, tucked his instrument under his arm and walked out. You can see the man carrying his cello out of the salon to the right, while Prince Esterhazy and his wife look at each other, wondering what is happening.  Finally only Haydn was left at the piano and the symphony ended. Prince Esterhazy understood, and the next day they left for Vienna.

TOM:  One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor, watching my mother paint in oils. She was inspired by scenes of Venice by William Turner, and here is one of the results.












Growing up in Seattle's rainy climate, I had plenty of time indoors to draw, paint, and cartoon for my school newspaper. I was always drawing, sometimes in class when I was not supposed to.  One of my favorite subjects was horses.














Fortunately I had a very wise teacher in the fourth grade, Miss Pearl. She once sent me out in the hall, not as punishment but to paint a Thanksgiving mural. Drawing became my ticket to social acceptance and good grades, especially when encouraged to illustrate my reports. I got an "A" on a report about Marco Polo for which I made a cover illustration of him standing at the bow of a ship, his hand shading his eyes as he looked forward to his great adventure.

Our home was blessed with a library of beautifully illustrated editions of the classics such as The Boy's King Arthur, illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. I knew the stories through the pictures before I read them.







On my ninth birthday I received a set of Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia. I remember opening one of the volumes to a picture of the Temple of Karnak on the Nile River and marveling at the mighty columns that dwarfed the man standing between them. Then on Career Day in high school an architect showed his drawings of beautiful buildings, and I, still dreaming of the Temple of Karnak, decided to use my artistic talent to become an architect. My attorney father was relieved that I would not become a "starving artist." As it turned out, I am now both.

During my travels here and abroad I have never been without sketchpad and painting tools. When Janice and I married, we took a year-long honeymoon trip around the world via freighters. I sketched and painted the whole time. Here I am relating to the Meows, a tribe living in the mountains near Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. They did not want their photograph taken, but delighted in my sketches of them - so much so that Janice managed to snap one quick photo. Many of these drawings are included in Janice's travel memoir,  Honeymoon Hobos.














We continued this writer-illustrator collaboration in children's books. While not working on a book, I paint scenes that inspire me, such as "Capitol Guardians." I was overwhelmed by the view from the Congress Avenue bridge of our graceful old Texas capitol "guarded" by such powerful new structures.
Since I could not set up an easel in the middle of the Congress Avenue bridge, I took photos when the traffic let up. Back in my studio I made a small pencil sketch, a few color studies, then had the sketch enlarged to full size, transferred it to watercolor paper, and painted. Whew!







Occasionally I do plein aire painting from start to finish, especially in Venice, as you can see in this photo. That way I'm not a tourist - I'm part of the scene.

JANICE:  On my early morning walks in our neighborhood I had long admired a fancy mailbox across the street at curbside. It looked like a miniature wooden house with a glass door, brown walls, and green polka dots. Since I assumed it was private, I had not taken a closer look. But one day curiosity lured me across the street, and I discovered that above the door was written, Little Free Library! And through the glass I saw books! The door had a flowered porcelain doorknob so I opened it and found a whole world. "Take a book, return a book," a sign said.


To my surprise I found a treasure, an old edition of Otto of the Silver Hand, written and illustrated by Howard Pyle and first published in 1888. I took it home to read. As a lover and author of children's books, I had read about this classic but had never seen a copy. This one is in near perfect condition, a beautifully designed book telling a sweet but violent story set in Germany during the Middle Ages. After Otto's mother dies in childbirth, his father, Baron Conrad, takes him to a nearby monastery to be raised by the monks. Otto is a gentle boy who at the age of twelve is suddenly thrust back into the violent world of the Baron when he comes for his son.


Howard Pyle is not only a fine storyteller, his pen and ink illustrations are powerful, like this one that shows the Baron bringing his wounded son back to the monastery. Pyle taught N.C. Wyeth who did full color illustrations for Robin Hood, Treasure Island, and other classics. It is easy to see Pyle's influence in Wyeth's illustration for The Boys King Arthur, below.


Thank you, neighbors for the opportunity to read Otto of the Silver Hand. I shall return it as well as add some of my own books. Perhaps one day on a visit to your library I will meet you. Meanwhile I have discovered that there are Little Free Libraries all over the world with the purpose of creating communities that share books and reading. You can learn more on their website:

JANICE:  Immortality. We all yearn for it, and one way to get it is by writing a memoir. As the saying goes, "Write yourself into existence." I decided to do just that.

I began by reading other people's memoirs. My favorite was Rosemary Sutcliff's Blue Remembered Hills. She is also the author of Eagle of the Ninth, a historical novel of Roman Britain that I keep on my desk at all times for inspiration.


















Next I read books on writing a memoir, and the one that set me on fire was The Autobiographer's Handbook, edited by Jennifer Traig with an introduction by Dave Eggers. His first book, a memoir titled  A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. He said, "You should write your story because you will someday die, and without your story on paper, most of it will be forgotten." The Handbook is like a panel discussion among expert memoirists on all the elements of writing an autobiography.



















As with any creative project, the hardest part is beginning. But as Goethe said, "First you must begin and then the mind grows heated."

I think the best way to begin is not at the beginning but with a vivid memory of an event in your life. Write it down. Each day write a memory. Chronology doesn't matter, just write what comes to mind. Doing so will bring up more memories day after day. When you have emptied your memory bank, read through them and look for a theme to learn what your memoir is about. I found that my story was about searching for the life in me.

As I began to put the pieces of memories together, I felt the need to bring them alive with dialogue - not that I always remembered the exact words people spoke, but I remembered the event and the characters
involved, and I invented dialogue. Suddenly the memory came alive, dragged out of the past.

William Faulkner said, "The past is not dead. It is not even past." And with a memoir as with historical fiction, the past becomes the present. It took me a year to put memories together, then another year to get the book published. Now the story of my life from birth to Tom is told in a bound hardcover book. It's not for sale anywhere. I made it for family and friends so that my story would not be forgotten.



















Becoming Alive  is a prequel to Honeymoon Hobos, the story of our yearlong trip around the world. For more about this travel memoir, which is available to the public, see my 2011 blogs on September 1st and 23rd.


















I intend to continue my life story in a third memoir while continuing to write children's books. So now, back to work!