A to Z: ‘Koren of the Quest’

Throughout April, I’m tackling 26 A to Z topics related to children’s literature. Today is all about the letter K, which has me reminiscing about the first chapter I ever wrote: “Koren of the Quest.”


I was still a kid myself when I wrote my first book children’s chapter book.

Between fifth and sixth grade, I was reading The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, which consist of four books: “Dealing with Dragons,” “Searching for Dragons,” “Calling on Dragons,” and “Talking to Dragons.” They were my newly found favorites, and my latest goal was to write a book similar to Patricia C. Wrede’s series.

That summer, I collected a ream of loose leaf notebook paper, a few sharp pencils, and a manila envelope that I labeled Top Secret. I dug out a baby name book and wrote down every name that sounded like it belonged in a fantasy story, and I took special care to outline characters based on the name’s meaning. According to the baby book, Leila meant “black or darkness of night.” So I created a character dubbed Leila the Black and Darkness of Night.

The name Koren, incidentally, was said to mean “quest.” I selected Koren as my main character, and the book would be about her quest.

I recall some details of the book better than others. There was a dragon named Tallulah. There were two kingdoms: one consisting of women, and one consisting of men. They were separated by a mountain range, and they never mingled. If either sex crossed into the other’s kingdom, it would spark war. Koren encountered and befriended a lost boy named Owen, who somehow ended up in the women’s kingdom. And Koren’s main goal in life was to get her title. To reach womanhood, every woman had to earn her title. (Such as Leila, whose title was The Black and Darkness of Night.)

I don’t recall the inciting incident that set Koren off on her quest. (I have a vague idea that her quest might have been to return Owen to his kingdom before he was found and killed.) But Koren and Owen set off together, and they eventually are joined by Tallullah and a fairy clan.

I also borrowed heavily (probably to the point of plagiarizing) from The Enchanted Forest Chronicles. I included vanishing cliffs and dragons bane and melting wizards and the sexless title King of the Dragons, which could be given to male or female dragon rulers.

I regret that, as a teenager, I found the handwritten manuscript and deemed it unworthy of keeping; after all, it was unpublishable in its current form, so I threw it away. At that point, my focus was moving toward writing books for adults.

These days, I wish I still had that folder of loose leaf pages. Even if it never got edited and polished and got bound between covers, it would be nice to have that artifact of my personal writing journey.

To the other writers out there: Do you remember your first full-length project? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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A to Z: Judging a book by its cover … and other ways of choosing children’s books

Throughout April, I’m tackling 26 A to Z topics related to children’s literature. Today’s topic is a subject I addressed on my old blog, EveryJournalist Fiction: judging a book by multiple elements and what convinces us to buy books.


I have a confession.

One moment. Let me take a deep breath …

Here goes: I judge books by their covers.

I know, I know. That “don’t judge a book by its cover” adage is a time-honored favorite. We’re supposed to judge a book by its contents, not by its design.

As a reader, I should know better. Even an ugly book can have  a great story hidden between its covers. But the author side of me says covers are important. And the reader within me reluctantly admits that covers often are the first thing that attract me to a book sitting on the shelf.

As a consumer, when I go book shopping, undoubtedly there are dozens — hundreds, in fact — of books worth buying. However, when I go on a book-buying excursion, I can neither afford nor carry hundreds of books. That means the selection process has to be narrowed somehow.

Over the weekend, the husband and I went to Chipotle for lunch. With Barnes and Noble just a few streets away from Chipotle, it’s inevitable that we end up there. We’ve been slowly but surely building a home children’s literature collection in the hopes we eventually have a Baby Barichello to enjoy them. As I combed the children’s section, I found about 15 books I wanted to buy.

But with picture book prices ranging from $7.99 for paperback to $21.99 for hard cover, I had about $255 worth of books in my hand.

And $20 to spend for the day.

So, what criteria attracts me to children’s books in the first place?

Where the WIldFAMILIARITY. When it comes to picture books in particular, familiarity and name recognition go a long way. Picture books have several classics, such as “Where the Wild Things Are,” that are must-haves for every kid lit collection. During our weekend Barnes and Noble excursion, this is one of the titles I ended up buying. I want our kids to meet the Wild Things in our home and have a copy of their own.

Familiarity is the same reason I bought $50 worth of Dr. Seuss books a few weeks ago. But what about books that aren’t on my radar?

COVER/JACKET DESIGN. The first thing to catch my eye on unfamiliar books is the cover and/or jacket design. Interesting cover art is sure to make me beeline for a book. Clever covers also draw me in. “The Book With No Pictures” has the blandest cover you can imagine, but its bold declaration of being a children’s book without pictures attracted me to it.

On the flip side, a bad cover is a fast way to make me skip a book. Even though I know “Smile” is a popular graphic novel, I never picked it up at a store because the smiley face with braces didn’t capture my attention. It gave me no insight into the book, other than the assumption that a character has braces. The first time I flipped through it was when my niece shared it with me.

Smile     Sisters

Conversely, I think the cover of “Sisters” is more interesting. It’s the same design concept, but now the cover tells me something about the story: There’s some friction and conflict present.

TITLE. The next best thing to catch my eye is the title. A good title can intrigue me into plucking the book from its brothers on the shelf. It’s harder to determine what makes a good title. On our weekend excursion, I stumbled upon a copy of “Tuesday,” by David Wiesner. At first glance, it’s a dull title, but it immediately planted a question in my mind: What happened on Tuesday?

BACK COVER COPY. When I flip to the back cover, the book has passed the first two hurdles. Now I’m interested in the content and want to read what the book is about. Now is the time for the plot or character synopsis to make its mark.

TuesdayWhen it comes to picture books, the back cover copy is replaced by reading the actual book. If I like the story and interior art (because in picture books, art is part of the reading), there’s a good chance the book is coming home with me at this stage. Take “Tuesday,” for example. The title first caught my attention, and while the cover art isn’t particularly exciting, when I opened the book I found beautiful illustrations and a story (told almost exclusively in pictures) that made me laugh. “Tuesday” is now in my home collection.

FIRST PAGE. Next comes the First Page Test for chapter books. I read the opening line. On any given book excursion, I read anywhere from 25 to 40 opening lines. I dig through a lot of books. Most of the time, this is where a book loses me. (Yes, writers, your opening line matters immensely.) If a first line hooks me, I read the first page. If the book has strong opening paragraphs, it comes home with me.

EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULE. There always are exceptions. If a book was highly recommended by a friend, that gives it a boost. If I find a book written by an author I like, that also weighs in favor of purchasing it without going through as much examination.

How do you choose which books to add to your children’s literature collection or your home library in general?

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A to Z: Imaginary friends popping up in kid lit

Throughout April, I’ll be tackling 26 A to Z topics related to children’s literature. Since today is all about the letter I, the topic of the day is imaginary friends.


Noni was invisible.

Not the metaphorical invisible, as in everyone ignored him or he felt largely unnoticed. Noni was literally invisible.

Except to me. I could see Noni.

The first time Noni showed up was the year my older sister started school. For the first time in my life, I was home alone all day with no one to play with. So I did what many lonely children have done: I turned to my imagination to find a friend.

And on a drive to the grocery store one morning, there he was in the back seat beside me.

I don’t remember Noni’s grand entrance into the family, but Mom likes to retell the story from time to time. I was sitting quietly in the back seat, looking out the window, when I suddenly turned to gaze at the seat beside me and said, “Noni, why is that fat lady sitting on you?”

Imaginary friends are common partners in childhood, and lately they’ve been common in children’s literature.

ImaginaryTake A. F. Harrold’s “The Imaginary,” for example. It’s a book about a girl named Amanda Shuffleup and her imaginary friend, Rudger, getting separated when Amanda is in a coma. It explores the question of what happens to imaginary friends when their children aren’t around or outgrow them.

(You can check out my review of “The Imaginary” from earlier this year.)

CrenshawKatherine Applegate’s latest chapter book, “Crenshaw,” also features an imaginary friend playing a main role. As a child, Jackson imagined an overgrown cat named Crenshaw as an imaginary friend. Even though he’s about to enter the fifth grade and considers himself too old for something as childish as an imaginary friend, Crenshaw returns when his family goes through a crisis. As the family loses their home, Jackson learns to cope with the situation.

BeekleThere’s also my new favorite picture book, “The Adventures of Beekle: The Unimaginary Friend.” I fell in love with Beekle as soon as I saw him on the cover. (Seriously, how adorable is this little guy? He reminds me of the adipose* from the Doctor Who episode “Partners in Crime, Season 4, Episode 1). Once I read the story, I loved him even more. Beekle lives on an island where imaginary friends wait to be chosen, and he waits for a child to claim his as their own. But when he continues to be overlooked, he stops waiting and instead goes seeking to find his friend.

Imaginary FredAnd, of course, there’s “Imaginary Fred.” A lonely boy named Sam wishes for a friend, and that’s how he discovers Fred, who is an experienced imaginary friend. Fred has accompanied plenty of children as an imaginary friend, and he wishes for a long-term friend. Then Sam meets a girl named Sammi, who has an imaginary friend named Frieda. The story shows the development of friendships and groups of friends.

All of the books listed above were published in 2014 and 2015. Apparently imaginary friends aren’t only a trend among children anymore; they’re a growing trend in children’s literature as well.

* Bonus: See? I told you Beekle looks like the adipose!

Beekle

Beekle

Adipose

Adipose

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A to Z: Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales

Throughout April, I’ll be tackling 26 A to Z topics related to children’s literature. Yesterday I wrote about the Brothers Grimm and the treasure trove of their complete works. Today let’s look at another fairy tale writer: Hans Christian Andersen. (Hopefully you’ll forgive me for alphabetizing by his first name for today’s H theme instead of writing about him on April 1 for the A theme.)


One of my favorite songs to sing in the shower is “Part of Your World.”

Of the hundreds of songs Disney has recorded for its animated features, Ariel’s is my favorite. (Although “Be a Man” from “Mulan” takes a close second place.)

Without Disney’s “The Little Mermaid,” I wouldn’t have this shower tune to assault my family’s with. But without Hans Christian Andersen, there would be no “Little Mermaid.”

So if my family wants to blame someone for the ear-splitting renditions, they can blame him.

Hans Christian Andersen

Hans Christian Andersen

This month is an especially appropriate time to acknowledge Hans Christian Andersen. April 2 is his birthday, and that date is also designated as World Children’s Book Day.

Yesterday I mentioned the Brothers Grimm collected folk tales and compiled them in volumes. Hans Christian Andersen took fairy tales one step further by writing new, updated versions of them.

One example is Andersen’s story “The Tinderbox.” The story tells of a soldier who encounters a witch on a road and retrieves an object that grants him three wishes. His tales is based on the folk tale “The Blue Light” (which, incidentally, is included in the Grimm collection I bought at Barnes & Noble). Another folk tale, “The Riddle,” inspired Andersen’s story “The Travelling Companion.”

While the original folk tales were relatively bare bones — they tended to be plot-driven, without much description, background, or character development. Andersen fleshed out the tales, adding paragraphs of description, dialogue, extra backstory, and a few plot variations.

But Andersen took a step beyond updating folk tales. He began writing original fairy tales of his own invention, such as “The Little Mermaid,” “The Ugly Duckling,” “Thumbelina,” “The Nightingale,” and “The Snow Queen.”

His original fairy tales were received better than his updated folk tales, and they became favorites among children as well as adults. Andersen succeeded in writing for a dual audience with his children’s literature, appealing to parents who read the stories aloud to their children in addition to the children themselves. (I’ll be writing more about the dual audience in a guest post over at Scifi and Scary‘s Kids’ Corner in May.)

More Than A Writer

Hans Christian Andersen wasn’t just a talented storyteller; he was an artist as well.

The Hans Christian Andersen Museum shares collections of his artwork online. He created paper cuttings, drawings, and collages among others. Below are examples of his paper cuttings.

HCAcut1 HCAcut2 HCAcut3 HCAcut4

FutureLearn, a free online learning community, has an excellent self-guided class about Andersen’s fairy tales for those who are interested in learning more about folk tales and fairy tales as genres, as well as reading and comparing folk tales to Andersen’s updated fairy tales. The course is where the majority of the information shared in this post comes from. To check it out, click here.

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A to Z: A Grimm topic related to fairy tales

Throughout April, I’ll be tackling 26 A to Z topics related to children’s literature. After yesterday’s look at fantasy titles, I’m going to shift gears and take a Grimm look at fairy tales for today’s G theme.


Once upon a time …

Actually, that’s a bit of a misleading beginning for a blog entry about the Brothers Grimm. “Once upon a time” was a popular translation for fairy tales written by Charles Perrault (who penned variations of perennial favorites like Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, the Tales of Mother Goose …)

For the Brothers Grimm, I ought to have started this post by saying: Es war einmal …

(Or, translated, “It was once …”)

So let’s start over, shall we?

Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm, 1847; daguerreotype by Hermann Blow

Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm, 1847; daguerreotype by Hermann Blow

Es war einmal two brothers, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, began collecting folk stories and compiling them in a collection called “Children’s and Household Tales.” The tales traditionally were kept alive through oral tradition, but the Brothers Grimm took the initiative to preserve them in a more permanent format in the early 1800s.

Jacob and Wilhelm’s first collection of stories was released in 1812. More than two centuries later, the fairy tales they had the foresight to preserve have become the foundation and reference point for multiple adaptations across all forms of media.

The Brothers Grimm are a household name these days, and many of their stories continue to be household stories. (Although most are told through Disney-fication.) Children and adults alike recognize stories like Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Little Red-Cap (aka Little Red Riding Hood), and Snow-White and Rose-Red.

But just how many fairy tales did the Brothers Grimm collect? How many can the average person name off the top of their head? A few months ago, I could probably come up with ten to fifteen.

Even though I could count the number of titles I knew on my fingers and toes (and still have five toes to spare), I considered my fairy tale familiarity to be high. I figured I would recognize the majority of tales in a Grimm collection.

Boy, was I wrong.

GrimmSeveral months ago during a regular Barnes & Noble excursion, I encountered a Pantheon edition of “The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales.” The husband and I are slowly but surely building a collection of children’s books so by the time a Baby Barichello enters the scene, we’ll have a well-stocked library. So I figured I’d buy the collection.

When I got home, I sank into a bubble batch and decided to pass the time by brushing up on fairy tales. When I turned to the table of contents, I found a few more tales than the fifteen I could name off the top of my head.

In fact, I found 195 more. The Grimms collected and recorded 210 folk tales.

And I didn’t recognize the majority of them. There were titles like:

  • Donkey Cabbages
  • The Seven Swabians
  • The White Bride and the Black Bride
  • The Sparrow and His Four Children
  • The Three Sluggards
  • The Peasant in Heaven
  • Lean Lisa

With nearly 200 “new” fairy tales to learn, I dove into the full collection. I was excited to discover that I did know a few of the tales, even if I didn’t recognize them by name. Growing up, one of my favorite VHS cassettes was a collection of fairy tales, including a cartoon of The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids. The fifth story in the Grimm collection — was you guessed it — a telling of The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids. The cartoon version was an old favorite, and the discovery of the source material was a joyous, geeky moment.

The original tales are darker than the Disney versions, but not so dark that they’re inappropriate to children. Any violence in the stories is unglorified and not graphic (most sentences are as simple and concise as, “He cut off the troll’s head” — no blood and guts). In fact, the tellings aren’t any scarier or more graphic than the animated telling of The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids shared above.

A complete collection of Grimm’s fairy tales is a book I recommend for any family, whether the household consists of adults only or children as well. The tales are a cultural and literary root, and it’s a great feeling to dig deep and familiarize yourself with original translations of stories that have become ingrained in our culture. Plus, it’s nice to learn some new fairy tales along the way.

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