Lowry Updates

An Apology

Those of you who read this blog know that a couple of days ago I mentioned that THE GIVER movie would likely be further delayed because the director wanted to do the final Harry Potter movie first.

I had no inkling what a tsunami that would bring on. I have now been alerted that my small bit of non-news is appearing everywhere and as it takes on momentum it also takes on a life of its own bearing no relation to fact. LOWRY SAYS HER FILM HAS BEEN SCREWED BY YATES is a headline someplace. Harry Potter websites have created lengthy postings about it; hundreds of emails have come to me from strangers; I am about ready to change my name and go live in the outback someplace.

I have sent an apology to the film producer, who was extremely gracious....more than I deserved...in her reply.

I think we tend to forget how quickly the internet snaps and gobbles when prey is offered. I should have recalled a time some years back, when the author Susan Cooper, who had lived in my neighborhood for years, married Hume Cronyn and moved away. Shortly thereafter, in describing where I live (Cambridge, MA) to an audience in Charlottesville, Virginia, I mentioned that many writers live in my Cambridge neighborhood. I began to list a few: Robert Parker, Kathryn Lasky, Susan Cooper...then caught myself, and said, No, sorry, I forgot; Susan's gone now.

The next day the word went out...on the internet...that Lois Lowry had announced the death of Susan Cooper.

Of course I wrote Susan a note of apology and she, like the film producer, was also very gracious.

But jeez! Wouldn't you think I'd have learned by now?!

To me, this blog is like a conversation with a few friends. It always has been. I just schmooze about writing, about my dog and my grandchildren, and often people...strangers, but they feel like pals...send comments and it is all cozy, as if we were sipping tea together.

But today it doesn't feel that way. And today I am abjectly apologizing to everyone in the film industry who has been skewered by increasing misrepresentation of what I thought was a minor, fleeting, ad unimportant bit of news from this snowy farm in Maine.

Country matters

I am in Maine now and seeing first hand what the latest storm has done here. It followed, of course, a winter of huge snowfall...I am looking through the window at the moment at Alfie, playing King of the Hill, sitting atop a snowbank probably 12 feet high. Around the edges of the supermarket parking lot, the snow is as high as a two-story house.

The recent storm was more snow, then rain, then freezing temperatures. So there is ice everywhere, and when I got here, although the driveway was plowed, (thank you, Jesse), the garage door was frozen closed. Eventually, though chopping and shoveling and..yes...swearing...I got it open. And I carved a path to the place where the oil company feeds oil into the furnace; if I don't keep that cleared, they won't deliver oil. But there is no way I can get to, or defrost, or expose, the propane gas tank behind the house...it feeds the six top burners of my Viking stove, and it is now empty and won't be accessible till spring. So cooking will be a challenge. There will be a lot of roasted vegetables, I think, and micro-waved things. And next fall I will not start out with a half-full tank, which was my mistake this year.

The local paper, as always, is filled with local color. In the police blotter....two car accidents involving deer (no moose; sometimes there is a moose-car collision, and that usually sadly involves two deaths: moose and driver); a rescue of a woman who went through the ice at Moose Pond; and...surely there is more to this story but all I know is the terse report from the paper: a horse "went through the floorboards" and was lifted to safety with the help of "heavy equipment and a sling."

A friend of mine arrives later today: my friend Kay, who is on sabbatical from teaching at Harvard and is writing a book. She'll be in one room at her computer and I out here in my studio off the barn at my own computer. We'll have each other's company for meals (roasted vegetables!) and evenings for the whole week. And we both plan on getting lots done though we may be distracted by dogs. She is bringing hers; mine is here; the two of them play very excitedly with each other whenever they're together, and we are hoping that an extended visit may calm them down. Either that or we will all be crazy at the end of the week.

Yikes. I just heard a huge roaring, thumping, crashing sound. Snow sliding off roof. Luckily the dog was not underneath.

Bad news from The Giver Movie front. David Yates, the director currently working on the next Harry Potter film, was supposed to begin The Giver film next. But he has just decided he wants to do the final Harry Potter first, thereby postponing The Giver by several years. Maybe the opening of this film could be held simultaneously with my celebration-of-life service after I succumb to old age? Or the producers will decide to get a different director. Stand by. But without holding your breath.

Okay, back to work. That's what I came here for, and that's what I'm doing.

The Gathering

This is the beautiful jacket of the Booker Prize winner "The Gathering" by Anne Enright, which I own but have not yet read, because I am in the middle of one of my childlike rituals involving "You can't do this pleasurable thing until you have completed this other dreaded task"...i.e., I am not allowed to read "The Gathering" until I get my tax stuff in order. Sigh.

But this morning I went to the Barnes & Noble website for a self-serving reason. Last month, when I was in New York, I did a taped interview with Katherine Lanpher for the B&N "One on One" section of their website (click on "All media.") I went to see if it was up yet (it isn't) and remained to browse and came across a video of an "Upstairs at the Square" reading.. The same Katherine Lanpher is the host and interviewer (she's great) of Anne Enright, who read beautifully, and the readings were interspersed with music by a group called Camphor. The music was so well chosen and appropriate that it enhanced the already-wonderful reading and watching the whole event made me want so badly to pick up the book! But alas, the tax stuff must come first.

Another interview I did during the same NY trip was for TIME (yes, the magazine) for Kids, and that one IS available on YouTube http://xml.truveo.com/rd?i=4288178126&a=rss&p=10 and probably as well on a Time website but I don't know how to find that.* In this case I was interviewed by a poised and articulate kid named Hannah (with an unspellable last name; she'll have to change it if she enters show biz) who did a great job.

I DID answer a huge stack of fan mail (real mail, not email, which is easier) this morning and that was one of my list of "you have to do this before..." tasks. One was a letter (my first) from Cambodia!

*Update: I prowled around and found www.timeforkids.com and you can get the interview...plus others...there.

ta DA!

Well, okay, technically it isn't "out" yet, but in today's mail I received the very first copy of THE WILLOUGHBYS and even though it is I think my 34th...maybe 35th?...book, it is still a thrill to see the finished product.. Not entirely unlike waiting nine months to have a baby and then seeing it for the first time. Fingers, toes, all intact. Nose still a work in progress but with possiblities. You hope people will share your affection for it.

Okay, the analogy breaks down a little. But there is some of the same whew, I did it, and here it is, world
feeling.

Thank you, Houghton Mifflin editors and designers!

Speaking of giving birth, my oldest daughter, whose birthday was two days ago, the painter/weaver/woodworker daughter who lives in San Francisco, has just arrived in Boston for the weekend, with her friend Steve and their dog Penny Lane. Every year I boringly once again tell her about the day she was born, when her father drove me to the hospital in New London, Connecticut, crossing a toll bridge from Groton, where we lived; and I said in a spritely fashion to the toll collector: "I'm having a baby today!" The toll booth guy looked at me with a "Huh?" look. Clearly it was not as exciting an event for him as it was for me.

Here's where you leave your heart...

My older daughter lives in San Francisco and is a painter, weaver, woodworker, and many other things, including speaker of Arabic!

Here's a recent painting by her.

High on a hill it calls to me...

This is the view from the home of friends in San Francisco with whom I have just spent the past few days. So I have been playing hookey, not working, though now that I'm back, it is catch-up time; 300+ emails were waiting for me on the website.

I go there at least once a year to see these same friends. The wife is an artist, and one time when I was visiting I took her to meet Ruth Heller, extraordinary illustrator who lived there, and who showed us through her studio before we went out to lunch together. We had all three hoped for more such get-togethers but Ruth died, sadly, before we could make that happen.

I do love SF. The weather is so much milder—I returned late Friday night to fresh snow in Boston, with more flurries today; and they are predicting below zero temperature in the morning—but I doubt if I could ever leave New England, especially with grandchildren here. And so many good friends.

Week after next I will go up to Maine, to the farm, and hole up for a little while to get some work done without distractions. My friend Kay, on sabattical from a university teaching job and working on a book, will come with me, and we will set ourselves up in two different offices in the house and plug away.

Alfie stayed at a new kennel while we were gone. This one sends him home with a little report card that comments on his eating, sleeping, and playing habits while in residence. It deemed him...yes, they really used this phrase..a "party animal." I'm going to take that to mean what it used to say on my children's kindergarten report cards: "Plays nicely with others."

Superbowl

OKay, it's only a game, it's only a game.

A heartbreaker, though!

Day 203

As you can imagine, I get a lot of interesting email in addition to the usual "How do you get your ideas?" type.

Today one came from a college senior who tells me he has read THE GIVER 30+ times, and that he is currently midway through a project of taking a self-portrait every day. He sent me the link to Day 203 out of 365, because it involves THE GIVER.

Fun to look at! I'll attach it so you can see it (click to enlarge), but to read the accompanying text you'll need to go to:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thp365/2229090899/

Big WHO?

Yesterday I drove up to Portland, Maine and spent the night at my son's house before visiting my grandson's first grade class to talk to the kids this morning.

I slept in my grandson's bedroom, recently redecorated by their dad in red, white, and blue and with a larger-than-life-size David Ortiz on the wall...so huge that his bat extends onto the ceiling. When I said to my son, "I've always dreamed of sleeping with Big Papi" he said, "Mom, you're disgusting."

The first-graders were wonderful: lively and giggly, and guess what they voted unanimously for when I told them a story, stopped short of the ending, and suggested that it could have an ending that was...happy, sad, scary, or gross. No wonder Captain Underpants and Walter the Farting Dog are hits with this age. Gross wins hands down.

I didn't think to count the number of children in the class. But when it was time for recess, just as I was leaving, I watched them all head for their outdoor clothes: boots, snow pants, mittens, hats, etc. etc...this is Maine in january. It made me remember when I had four small children, all born in less than five years, and how I would bundle them up one after the other, just for a trip to the grocery store. All those mittens! All those boots! At least the first graders could get their own clothes on.

A new Gooney Bird book, coming out next spring, takes place in January and has a scene when the children are arriving in the classroom on a snowy day. Here's an excerpt:

Gooney Bird Greene entered the classroom with the other children, and they began to remove hats and mittens and jackets and boots. They all kept indoor footwear in their cubbies. One by one they lined up their wet boots and changed into their dry slippers and clogs and crocs.

“What on earth are those, Gooney Bird?” Mrs. Pidgeon asked, watching as Gooney Bird sat on the floor and tried to wrestle something off her feet.

Gooney Bird scowled. “Well,” she said, “I thought they were high-fashion boots. I got them at the Goodwill Store, on the half-price table. One dollar and forty-five cents.”

“Quite a bargain,” Mrs. Pidgeon commented, still looking at Gooney Bird’s feet. “Need some help?”

“Thank you.” Gooney Bird hobbled to a nearby bench, sat down, and held her legs out. One at a time Mrs. Pidgeon pulled off the wet boots. They were bright blue, with very high, thin heels.

When Mrs. Pidgeon had set them side by side on the shelf, next to the long puddled row of ordinary rubber boots, Gooney Bird looked at them with distaste. “I thought the stiletto heels were very cool,” she said. “Stiletto means a thin, pointy stabbing tool, and that’s why they call these stiletto heels. See?” She held one up. “But they’re not comfortable. They do stab. And they were slippery on the ice. I fell twice on my way to school. Look. My knees are all wet.”

Mrs. Pidgeon felt the damp knees of Gooney Bird’s black tights sympathetically. “Goodness,” she said.

“I have buyer’s remorse,” Gooney Bird said.

The Bag of Gold

Someone asked if I would post a photo of the bag I bought in the Zurich Airport. Here it is, in all its splendor..

And here, unrelated to the bag, is a photo I've just received of a new paperback jacket for MESSENGER. Many of you know that each of the books of the trilogy, in paperback, has two very different covers: the first, as I recall, green, then blue, and now this one in red/orange..and each showing a pair of hands. The reason is that these "other" versions are intended to be sold in the "adult" sections of bookstores. The text, of course, is exactly the same.