Betsy – Page 8 – Betsy Devany

Lessons From the Library

Posted on December 1, 2009 by Betsy

Thank you to all the children and adults who braved the rain last night to attend the Groton Public Library Lullaby Concert; to Judith and Miss Vicky for arranging these events, and supplying the holiday treats; and a special thanks to the little ones for becoming such great “wild things” during my reading of Where The Wild Things Are.

Reading to kids is a wonderful experience, and never knowing what the overall age of my audience will be keeps me on my toes. In writing for children, you must always keep the child reader or listener in mind, and this applies to reading to large groups of children as well.

What I’ve learned through my own experiences from being a volunteer reader:

1. Come prepared with books for a variety of ages. If the overall group consists of more toddlers, read the shorter books with less text.

2. Make sure to include books which allow the kids to be involved, either through making sounds or answering questions. Kids want to be a part of the reading and should not be expected to passively sit for forty-five minutes. Respect their needs.

3. Pay close attention to the energy level of the group. If the kids seem restless, encourage a stretching break. Get them to stamp their feet, stretch their arms, and to get their wiggles out.

4. Appreciate your audience.

5. Bring stickers to give the kids at the end of the concert. This way you can greet them personally and thank them for coming.

I look forward to my next appearance with the lovely Barbara Harvey on guitar.

Upcoming Library Appearance

Posted on November 20, 2009 by Betsy

My next appearance at the Groton Public Library will be on November 30th. 6:30 pm. The talented Barbara Harvey will join us. She is a guitarist and singer. Norman, my gorilla friend, is already planning what he will wear. My three-year-old granddaughter, Ava, has requested to have a seat up front, next to me. When I asked her about this, she said, “Decuz, Norman needs me.”

“Why?”

“Grandma, you are so silly! You tagots Norman is berry shy,” Ava said, “He needs me to hold his hand.”

At his last library appearance, Norman danced with the kids, and Barbara let him use her guitar, while Ava watched from afar.

“Do you need to hold Norman’s hand?” I asked Ava.

“Yes, Grandma. I want to make friends with the other kids.”

During his years of working at the toy store, Norman helped many children who were shy. And even after retirement, I see that he continues to do this, wherever he goes.

“Ava, if you sit in the audience, you will be next to other children, and you can still be near Norman.”

She furrows her brow and walks over to Norman, who is sitting on our couch. Ava whispers into his ear, and then presses her nose to his. “Okay, Norman?”

“Grandma, he says if he gets scared, you can hold his hand.”

“I will,” I say, winking at Norman.

For more information on the Lullaby Concert, click on the links below:

http://www.town.groton.ct.us/library/childrens/programs.asp or http://www.americantowns.com/ct/groton/news/november-lullaby-concert-at-the-groton-public-library-231188

http://normanthegorilla.wordpress.com/

From Baa Creations to Writing For Children

Posted on November 12, 2009 by Betsy

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For twenty-three years I designed appliques for infant and children’s clothing. Ducks. Baby giraffes. Cows. Bears sleeping on the moon. Bunnies. Lobsters. Crabs. Penguins, and whatever unique design a customer asked me to do. Special requests always stirred my imagination and led me to work with different fabrics and designs beyond what I would have ordinarily done.

I specialized in making matching baby gifts as well as coordinated clothing for siblings, from newborn babies to pre-teens. Many weekends, I traveled to sell my work at craft fairs–as far away as Virginia. I personally cut and sewed 12,000 to 15,000 appliques per year. And as exhausting it was, I loved the work. Plain and simple. Financial aspirations, aside from supporting my children and having the ability to stay home with them, never drove my business.

My greatest joy came from meeting and getting to know my customers. Watching their babies grow out of my bibs and holiday sweatshirts, until my creations no longer met their needs. Yet, customers would still come by my booth to say hello, and I will always remember those small gestures.

I miss the personal connection. The frantic calls from a parent to make a beloved dress in a larger size because their daughter can barely squeeze into the one I made her two years ago, and she refuses to hand-it-down to her younger sister. I miss entertaining the young children while their parents searched my racks. I am not one to sit around and do nothing, so I always brought cutting work with me, wherever I went. If their parents needed more time, I let the kids count or sort my piles of duck pieces, lobsters and a variety of other shapes, or help me put more bibs on display.

And yes, some of my experiences from the business have found their way into my writing.

I still make my creations, on a limited basis, for a handful of gift shops. And for customers who call me for handmade baby gifts. But now, my solitary creative time is no longer spent at a commercial sewing machine. Rather, I sit in my writing room with a notebook on my lap or follow my thoughts on the computer. Instead of ironing pellon to fabric, cutting shapes out for two hours each night, and sewing for six hours per day, I read. I write. I listen to my characters, and pply the skills I developed while running a business out of my house. My work process, including my passion, remains the same. Only the outlet has changed.

Children’s publishing is a business. While it could not exist without the multitude of creative talent, it also would not survive without the business aspect. Baa Creations taught me that creativity alone is not enough. Designing for children was the trajectory to writing for children of all ages, yet the skills needed to sell and promote my creations were just as important. Truly loving what I did made my business flourish naturally.

My clothing business prepared me for writing in more ways than one, and taught me important lessons: Be resilient. Foster patience and persistance. Recognize your inability to please everyone at all times. Be gracious to those you can’t please, and grateful for those you can. Recognize the importance of self-promotion, maintaining mailing lists, and staying in touch with customers about upcoming events. Deal with rejections in a non-personal way. Appreciate your mentors. Listen with an open mind, and apply any advice to your work with a positive attitude. Always be willing to try something new, even if you don’t agree. With time, you may. Be thankful for your gift. Remain humble. Keep learning. Work hard at your craft on a daily basis. Don’t be hard on yourself when you fall off task. Find your personal style and voice, and be true to that.

Never give up.

To all my past Baa Creation customers. Thank you your kindness, your support, and mostly for understanding when my heart and passion sent me in a new direction. I look forward to seeing you in the future as a writer.

What is CWORS?

Posted on November 5, 2009 by Betsy

CWORS

abbr.

1. Children’s Writer Obsessive Revision Syndrome

This is the place where a children’s writer is stuck. On one page. One paragraph. One sentence. And while meticulous revision is necessary, there is a point when you cross over into CWORS. How do you know when you have left your editorial mind behind and fallen victim to the critical voice?

1. Your eyes are glazed over.

2. You have spent the last three hours or worse, three days, reshaping a single page–or three pages, if you are preparing a submission for the Rutgers One-on-One Conference.

3. You have sent your critique partner, or whoever might read your work, twelve different versions of the one page. In one afternoon. Of course, with multiple thank-yous generated across the body of the e-mail.

4. Your reader has stopped responding through e-mail. You dial the phone and get a busy signal. You come to the realization that they may have taken the phone off the hook to save themself from your babbling.

5. You close the file and decide to fold the laundry.

6. You fold one shirt, and then open up the document again.

7. You read your one page and sincerely think you know the answer to the problem, but you can’t truly identify the problem.

8. You spend another two hours, swapping words and phrases, and in the end, you revert back to the original, which hopefully you have saved as a separate document.

9. Except for an empty box, you have no concept of how many crackers or cookies you’ve nibbled on for the better part of the day.

10. You curse at the empty coffee canister.

In my case, when I first noticed the symptoms, but didn’t recognize their meaning, I called my father. He has been a writer for over fifty years and since I have embraced writing for children, he has offered me words of wisdom. Sparingly. One of his favorite phrases is: Dangerous Mind. The mind you slip into when CWORS takes over. In a sense, you become dangerous to your manuscript, and more importantly, to your characters.

I had slipped into a state of obsessive revision without knowing why or how I had gotten there. And when I tried to share with my father, one of the twelve newer versions, he stopped me. “Whatever you do, don’t read another word,” he said, “You are a danger to your work in this frame of mind.”

“What frame of mind?”

“The place where you are right now. Revising over and over,” he told me. And then, he offered me five words. “Back away from your manuscript.” Nothing else.

On that day, I learned how to recognize the symptoms of CWORS. They do not often appear, but when they do, I now know how to react accordingly. Along with the date on which CWORS began to take over on a particular piece of writing, I write myself a note and promise that the work will remain untouched for a period of time. In general, two weeks.

And then, I back away from the manuscript, call my dad, who is my sponsor for CWORA (children’s writer obsessive revision anonymous) and thank him.

How Life Works in the Mind of a Three-Year-Old

Posted on October 22, 2009 by Betsy

Last Friday, while I was driving to the park, my three-year-old granddaughter announced there would be a change in our weather conditions. “Grandma! Guess what! It is gonna snow tomoooorrooooow.”

“It is?!” I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could watch her facial expressions. She was obviously excited. The front passenger seat jiggled every time she danced her feet against it.

“Yes, Grandma. It is! Tomorrow!”

Being the middle of October, I was very curious. Especially since the temperature outside has stayed in the high fifties. Had I missed an emergency weather warning? “How do you know, Ava?” I asked.

“Decuz, I do.” More dancing feet. “And . . . we needs buttons.”

“Grandma has lots of buttons.” I told her. More importantly, we needed milk and bread and eggs and anything else people rush off to buy at the first mention of an impending snowstorm. I changed the direction of the car and headed towards Stop and Shop, in an effort to beat the lines.

Ava picked up her two plastic horses and made them dance on her lap, up and down the straps on her car seat, and across the window. I hoped they weren’t scratching the glass. She stopped. “We needs to get carrots and raisins,” she told me.

“What for?”

“The snowman I am going to make. And the snow baby and the snow unicorn and the snow dog and the snow mommy and the snow daddy and the snow kitty and–”

I stopped at the red light, turned my head, and studied Ava. “Are you sure it will snow tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

Ava beamed. “Silly Grandma, it is gonna snow tomorrow . . . decuz I gots to make a snowman.”

The traffic light was now green. The person behind me honked their horn. I put my foot on the gas pedal and begin to laugh. Ava laughed, too.

“I guess we need to buy raisins and carrots at the store,” I said.

“Yes, Grandma. And a scarf and mittens. And bagels, cuz my tummy is saying it is berry, berry hungry.”

In the eight minutes it took us to get to the grocery store, I thought about her mind. How it worked. How she believed it would snow tomorrow, only because she needed to make a snowman. This is why–in addition to novels–I write for young children. Their world is marvelous and innocent. Rich in wonder and imagination and possibilities. A place in which the simplest of things can evoke pure joy. Rocks. Bird feathers. Pinwheels. Rainbows. Buttons and raisins and carrots and fresh snow, which together create a simple snowman.

And maybe it will snow in the middle of a warm October. If it does, I will make a snowman, too.

Betsy’s Wild Things Window

Posted on October 16, 2009 by Betsy

Every few months we have to create a new window display at The Toy Soldier. With the release of a movie based on one of my favorite picture books, Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, I got the green light to do a Wild Things window. My one challenge was to not spend any money on display materials. I do love challenges, almost as much as revisions.

When I create a new display, I first walk around the store to see what tie-in products I can use. Do we have extra copies of the book to use in the window? Are there enough stuffed creatures to display, while leaving a sufficient quantity accessible for selling. I need ground coverage, objects to frame the window, and enough product to create a barrier to keep the children from climbing into the space and knocking everything down. Why? They want to ride the rocking horse or play the child-size piano or hug the giant polar bear or press their nose against the window to watch the ducks, which would require they plow through the toys across the wooden platform, and all in a matter of two seconds. This has happened before. You usually hear the commotion before you confront the actual damage. Then you check that the child or children are unharmed, return them back to the adults in charge, walk down the ramp to the register, pop an aspirin or two, hope a school bus isn’t going to pull up at any second to release a group of teenagers, who will storm into the store and grab all the pop-guns, and then take a deep breath. Well, maybe this window wasn’t exactly right.

Once I gather several copies of the book and stuffed characters, I begin to tear down the existing display. I shelve the product, sweep the wooden platform, wash the window, run outside to keep some kids from terrorizing the ducks outside, and tap into my creativity. Don’t go out and buy anything. Hmm? My brain starts to click. I see things in my house that would work great. After confirming I can leave the other employee at the store, I dash home. Pull boats and plastic fall leaves out of my everything-I-don’t-know-where-to-put-or-don’t-have-time-to-deal-with room and throw them into my car. I remember a stool my daughter had and no longer wants, fabric in my sewing room, plastic vines. Two blocks from my house, I remember the wooden crate. I turn the car around.

With my trunk full, I drive back to the store with thoughts pinging within my brain. I am excited. The concept for the window takes shape.

Back at the store, I begin to design the window; drape fabric over the boxes, twist the vine around the window frame. Check the order of events within the book. Create the story from beginning to end, from one side of the window to the other.

The window complete, now all I have to do is convince young children that “Yes, this is not a new movie which someone recently wrote. This started with a book. A marvelous book by Maurice Sendak, which you must read.” And so, I read it to them. They leave with smiles on their faces, bags with purchased copies, while roaring “You are a wild thing.”

When the day has ended and the pop-guns are neatly lined up, I step outside and admire the new window. I say thanks for the opportunity to be able to work at The Toy Soldier. It is a place where magic and creativity and the love of children’s literature all come together.

The Right Fit

Posted on October 8, 2009 by Betsy

On my drive home, after attending the NJ SCBWI Mentoring Workshop, I began to think about jeans; how hard it is to find the right pair. And how every time I feel hopeful about discovering the perfect pair, I end up with a pile of jeans in a dressing room, all of which need to go back on their hangers, or folded in such a way that you can never find your size easily among the uniformed stacks on the shelves. After years of trying on jeans, I haven’t given up. I can’t. Everyone needs a good pair of jeans. The right pair is out there. Somewhere. A pair of jeans that doesn’t bunch up at my thighs, squeeze my calves, require that I gain three inches in height, need a belt at all times, and are the perfect length and right shade of denim. What shade is that? I don’t know. I’ll know when I see the pair in some store when I’m not even in a jean-shopping frame of mind. Something about the denim will catch my eye. And then, the courtship begins. If the jeans fit in the dressing room, what shape will they be in after being washed? And dried? After a mini-celebration in the dressing room while my husband is texting to see if I am ready to leave the store–do I realize how my five minutes of “I’ll be right back” has turned into one hour?–I purchase three pairs, and then sit on the decision. I let a week or two pass. I keep the jeans with their tags attached in the shopping bag (receipt included, just in case I change my mind) and ponder this unexpected treasure. Are they really as spectacular as I thought in my moment of celebration at the store? Had I even eaten that day? Was I being delusional? While I decide whether I truly love these jeans, or not, I test myself. I wait three days. Try them on. Look in my full-length mirror. Turn to the side. Put them back in the shopping bag. Wait another week. I am not fully committed. Not yet. Not until the day I decide to recycle the shopping bag, snip off the tags, and file away the receipt, do I know I’m ready to take the plunge. I need these jeans. They speak to me. I look forward to wearing them, many times over. Unless the first washing is disastrous, the jeans and I have formed a bond.

Finding the ideal jeans is how I equate an editor’s search for the right manuscript that catches their eye, like a sliver of sun peeking through the branches of the tree, its leaves shimmering in the light. And you want an editor who will flatter your writing and enhance your features.

As a writer, I know how difficult it is to find jeans that are comfortable, fit well, are of good quality, and can stand up to numerous trips through the washing machine. I know how frustrating it is, and exhausting, to spend hours at multiple stores, thumbing through the racks and shelves, only to go home empty-handed and never wanting to see another dressing room. Yet, I never give up. My perfect, or near perfect, pair of jeans are out there. Somewhere.

And so, with the image of hunting for jeans (or the ideal pair of casual, yet dressy, every occasion, black shoes) I appreciate the challenge of facing stacks and stacks of unread manuscripts. The joy is in finding the right one.

My weekend with Eve Adler from Henry Holt, and Lisa Yoskowitz from Dutton inspired this thought process. They are both delightful, encouraging, and enthusiastic about the world of children’s literature. I am now deep into the magical process of novel revision, guided by their wonderful suggestions.

Paris and Greece

Posted on September 30, 2009 by Betsy

: I learn the destinations of our trip on the way to the airport

: Page one of book prepared by my husband for our trip

Just prior to leaving for New York JFK Airport, I was handed a binder prepared by my husband. This is when I learned our secret destinations were Athens, Greece; the Greek Islands of Hydra, Poros, and Aegina; and Paris, France. John had made sections for each destination,including photos of the hotels where we would be staying, and lists of things to do.

Since that moment, I have been in a whirlwind of meeting people from other countries, dancing with Greeks in a Greek Tavern, soaking in the exquisite colors of the islands, following cats and dogs in attempts to photograph them in their habitats, falling in love with the sculptures in the Louvre, weeping in the chapel at Notre Dame, attending the yearly book festival in Athens (only by chance) and the pistachio festival in Aegina (also by chance) and being rendered speechless in the tunnels of Paris’s Metro upon hearing violin music echo beneath the ground.

I had every intention of blogging. And writing. And editing one of my novels. And while I accomplished neither during our visit, I discovered photography. I learned the desire to write from deep within my heart found a different channel, so that I could preserve the moments through my eyes. Moments I am sure will find their way into my writing. Just as my characters nudge me to listen, I was compelled to express my creativity through the camera. And I took many photos–nearly one thousand.

Now, as I begin to pour through these images, I understand why I had to follow a cat through a park in Greece. Why I could not leave the statues in the Gardens of Versailles (until my husband took my hand and pulled me back to the metro.) Why the boy begging at the bottom of the steps leading to Sacre-Coeur spoke to me in ways I had not yet experienced, or even expected.

Timing was everything. Like a manuscript which reaches the right editor at the right time, I was blessed to be in the right place at the right time. As the weeks go by, I will be sharing some of these stories with you.

Where in the World is Betsy Going?

Posted on September 15, 2009 by Betsy

As I prepare to leave on a secret trip – planned by my husband for our fifteenth wedding anniversary – I am faced with how to pack, and whether choosing outfits for two unknown destinations outside the United States is more difficult than plotting a novel. The answer is painfully clear as I am obviously back at the computer writing.

John’s suitcase is already packed – five days ago. My suitcase is empty, though I currently have a bed covered with multiple pairs of pants, skirts, tops, and anything else I might need. (I dare to say that I am only familiar with throw-packing.) Is there really any other way to pack?

Before he left for work, I asked John what he planned to wear on a typical day on our trip, he gestured to his current attire and said, “In the daytime, I will wear these tan slacks with this blue shirt . . . and in the evening I will wead these tan slacks with this blue shirt and maybe a tie and a jacket.”

I responded with a blank stare. Then I began to stammer. “Ah . . . I have skirts and pants and dresses to choose from and I can’t just add a tie at night. And what about the necklaces I made last week to wear? What does that travel book say about women’s attire? Will we get dirty during the day from sand or dirt or . . . ”

“Maybe. We might. Got to go to work,” he said, walking to his car.

I poured myself a second cup of coffee, hoping it would inspire me to consolidate the selection of apparel on my bed. It didn’t. Especially since the cats were snoring on top of my clean clothes and when I tried to shoo them off, Joey hissed at me.

And then, I discovered my suitcase was already packed.

What is Bravery?

Posted on September 2, 2009 by Betsy

Bravery is:

Telling jokes before your surgery.

Telling even funnier stories after you’ve left the recovery room.

Allowing your sister to film you. And laughing later at the video.

Getting discharged from the hospital, and instead of going directly home, you arrive unannounced at the hair salon where your twins are getting their back-to-school haircuts.

Patiently showing your scars to your eight-year-old daughters once they decide to be brave and look. “Is it scarier than Harry Potter?” asked Lili.

My sister facing her cancer with fierce determination.

Bravery is laughing and making funny faces, even when it hurts.