K is for “Kids’ Books”

Welcome to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Every day in April (except Sundays), I’ll be sharing a short bookish memory with you.

For most of my adult life, my goal has been to start a publishing company. I want to publish books that teach kids and teens about the world. I know that "Teach kids about the world" is the vaguest business plan ever, but I’m not going to start a company anytime soon, so I have a while to think about it.

When I tell people that I want to publish kids’ books, one of the most common questions I get is, “Why kids’ books?” For many years, my response was, “Um, I don’t know. Because I like them.” That’s true, but it’s also an unsatisfying answer. I didn’t (and still don’t) fully understand why I like reading books for kids and teens.

Strangely, my children’s book obsession became a little clearer when I saw this photo on the news.

This picture was taken behind the high school that I graduated from. Those kids go to the same school that I did. The photo was taken in Colorado, which isn’t a former Confederate state, so many people around here interpreted the photo as a hate symbol. Some people were surprised by the kids’ behavior, but I wasn’t surprised at all. The students at my high school weren’t very accepting of differences. I guess nothing has changed since I graduated.

One of my most vivid memories from high school is talking to my gay friend in the hallway. As soon as I walked away from him, another boy grabbed me by the backpack and dragged me backwards. He screamed “You’re going to hell, fag lover!” in my ear and then slung me to the floor. It didn’t hurt, but I’ll remember it forever.

I think this memory is a partial answer to “Why kids' books?” I’m not naïve enough to think that books can solve the world’s problems, but children learn from their environments. If they see characters dealing with differences without violence, maybe they’ll be less likely to resort to violence in the real world.

So, why kids’ books? Because I think they can make a difference.  

Do you read books for children or teens? If you do, what do you like about them?

J is for “J.K. Rowling”

Welcome to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Every day in April (except Sundays), I’ll be sharing a short bookish memory with you.

The only time I’ve gone to a midnight book release was when the 7^th Harry Potter book came out. I love to sleep and usually won't give up my sleep for a book. Harry Potter was special, though. So, a little before midnight on July 20, 2007, I went to the grocery store to watch the crates of books being opened.

My grocery story is open 24 hours, but I’d never been there in the middle of the night. When I got to the store, the parking lot was dark and mostly deserted. It looked exactly like the type of place a woman should avoid. If real life was a horror movie, this parking lot would be a perfect setting for a gruesome murder.

Just like a protagonist in a horror movie, I ignored everything my mother taught me and walked across the parking lot. I wanted my Harry Potter book. Common sense wasn’t going to stop me.

As I got closer to the store, I noticed a group of teenage boys goofing around near a car. They were wearing dark clothes, smoking cigarettes, talking loudly, and shoving each other. I recognized a few of them. We had gone to the same schools for most of our lives, but they were several years younger than me. I was in college; they were still in high school. They were the “stoners.” The kids who got drunk or high and acted like idiots until the police showed up.

When I passed them outside the store, one of them stopped trying to bash his friend’s head into the side of a car and said, “Are you here for the book?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“So are we,” he said. “They have a ton of books, and there’s barely anybody here, so you don’t have to stand in line yet, unless you want to.”

These boys were in a dark parking lot at midnight for the exact same reason I was. We were all overeager to read Harry Potter. That’s the first time I realized that books have an amazing potential to bring people together. I’d seen these boys in the daylight, and I knew most of their names, but we’d never spoken. They were stoners who liked to party. I was a misanthropic loner with a serious case of depression. We didn’t become instant best friends or anything, but we had more in common than I ever could imagine. 

I is for “If Dogs Could Talk”

Welcome to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Every day in April (except Sundays), I’ll be sharing a short bookish memory with you.

I is a difficult letter. I couldn’t come up with any I bookish memories, but I’m pretty sure the law of the Internet is “When in doubt, post pictures of your pets,” so that’s what I’m doing today.

The only thing I love more than books is dogs. (And my family. I guess I love them more than books, too.) Actually, a lot of the nonfiction books I own are about dogs. One of the best birthday presents I ever got was a giant book full of illustrations of canines. It has drawings of different breeds and famous paintings that feature dogs. Even though the book is heavy, I used to drag it back and forth to elementary school every day so I could look at the pictures during free-reading time. I hated reading when I was a kid and refused to actually read during free-reading time.

Inscription in the dog-art book my parents got me for my 9th birthday.

I can fall in instalove with any canine-shaped creature, even dogs in photos. One of the books on my shelf is a photo book called If Dogs Could Talk. I stole inspiration from that book for this post. (Can you tell I'm just rambling right now because I have no idea what to write about today?)

The brown dog is Cheyenne. She’s hyperactive and devious. The black dog is Butch-Kiera. She’s big, bouncy, and dumb as a rock. I love them both very much.

Do you have any pets?

H is for “Hunger Games”

Welcome to the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. Every day in April (except Sundays), I’ll be sharing a short bookish memory with you.

Last week, we talked about my decision to study children’s literature in graduate school. One of the many things that pushed me in the children’s lit direction was the success of The Hunger Games trilogy.

While I was obsessing over universities, the world was obsessing over The Hunger Games. Those books were everywhere. They dominated online bookish conversations; they were in the front windows of every bookshop; there was even an article about them in my local newspaper.

The only place I didn’t see The Hunger Games was in my undergraduate literature classes.

I actually remember one of the first lit classes I took at community college. This was before The Hunger Games madness. On the first day of class, the professor asked us to say our names and our favorite author. When it was my turn, I said my name and proudly declared that my favorite author was Stephen King. This was met with laughter and incredulous stares.

At the time, I didn’t know what was wrong with loving Stephen King books. As I took more literature classes, I learned that King’s novels aren’t “serious literature.” They’re meant to please the masses. They don’t push boundaries or alter the way we think about storytelling. My college classes made me feel wrong for liking “genre” fiction.

When The Hunger Games became popular, I was just as obsessed with the series as the rest of the world. Seeing people’s enthusiasm for “trash books” really made me question why we don’t study popular books in college classes. I do see the value in reading classics and literary fiction, but I don’t think we should completely ignore what’s popular right now. Wouldn’t it be fascinating to figure out what makes a book a bestseller?

The Hunger Games helped cement my decision to study children’s lit in graduate school. I was tired of writing essays about 300-year-old adult classics. It was time to branch out and try something new.

Is there a book that influenced a decision you made in your life?