I first "met" Richard Peck when I got a part-time job at the library as a circulation clerk. This meant that I checked out patrons' books, and also that I got to shelve the cartload of returned items, everything from vinyl records and puppets to puzzles and actual books. It's a great library.

And I had a great supervisor who never said anything even though I was the slowest re-shelver in the place. Mostly because I kept sampling the wares, and then finding additional interesting items on the shelves as I returned the books. While wandering the stacks like that, I ran into the works of a Young Adult writer named Richard Peck. I had never heard of him until I found him in that library, and once I did, I was hooked. How could I not be when he had titles like Ghosts I Have Been, The Ghost Belonged to Me, and Voices After Midnight? I read everything by him that the library had to offer.

Fast forward many years, and I had gotten a book published and joined The Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. One year, the Society offered a two-day workshop down in Champaign-Urbana that included critiquing by peer group, and then a chance to read to and be advised by none other than Richard Peck. There was no way I was going to miss out on that so I registered and got myself downstate to finally meet the man.

And he was wonderful: funny, charming, and with a head full of amazing wisdom. I managed to make it through the critique group without too much damage (me, who never joins writers' groups) but I was basically quaking in my shoes at the idea of reading my work in front of the entire gathering as well as Mr. Peck. Talk about nervous. Read my stuff? In front of my hero? But I had signed up, so there was no getting around it.

I sat in the back of the room so that I wouldn't be the first to read. I was kind of hoping to either be the last, or that an earthquake would strike at an opportune moment and the floor would swallow me whole before I needed to open my mouth in front of him. But finally, after listening to my colleagues read their excerpts and being totally blow away by the collective talent in that room, it was my turn.

I started reading and although I was paying enough attention to the sheets of paper I held in my shaking hands, I was aware that Mr. Peck had gotten up from the desk at the front of the room and had walked around to sit down directly across from me. Trying not to freak out, I finished what I was reading, looked up at him, and he smiled. And then he said, "Well. You're very good, aren't you?" And that was as jarring to me as any earthquake could have been. To this day, I replay that comment in my head, in his voice, with that smile on his face. One of the best moments of my entire life, let alone my writing life.

We didn't have a chance to speak again; I needed to leave the workshop a little early, and he was busy with everyone who also wanted to speak to him. But we did exchange letters, and I have his in my treasured author-letters file. Physical proof that I had actually connected with my hero.

He shared two snippets of his wisdom with us at that workshop. Before we broke into our small critique groups, he said "Remember: writing is not done by committee." (Perhaps he didn't do writers' groups either--I never thought to ask him.) And then before we read our work aloud to him and to everyone else, he said "If you want to write for children, always remember. Childhood is a jungle, not a garden." This was a man who, no matter how many years he collected, remained very much connected to the child in his heart.

Later in his career, he switched from YA Supernatural to Middle Grade, and was awarded The Newberry for his book A Year Down Yonder. Previously, he had already received the Edgar, the Margaret Edwards Award, and the National Humanities Medal.

Richard Peck hailed from my home state of Illinois and became one of the biggest lights in young people's fiction. I'm so very grateful that I had a chance to meet him.

The Superpower of Words

Back when I was pregnant with my second daughter, I took a part-time job as a clerk at a local library. This meant that my duties consisted of checking books out (remember those old-fashioned machines that stamped a return-date card with a satisfying "ka-chunk"?  I miss those!) as well as shelving books and other materials that had been returned. Sending me out to the shelves with a full cart of books was a dangerous proposition; I could get lost in those shelves while purportedly emptying the book cart. But management kept me on the job anyway.

And it was at this library that I discovered my three hero writers: two British writers by the names of K.M. Peyton and Robert Westall, and one American writer named Richard Peck. They all wrote books that were Middle Grade to Young Adult, and my introduction to each of them involved a story of the supernatural. At the time, Mr. Westall and Mr. Peck pretty much wrote nothing but supernatural tales, and while K.M. Peyton did not, she has an outstanding ghost story titled A Pattern of Roses. If you have a chance, check it out. It's a fantastic read. All three of them gave me the direction I needed with my writing, because I had not yet realized that YA Supernatural was where I wanted to be. I learned this about myself when I realized I wanted to be like them.

While I wrote fan-girl letters to Ms. Peyton and got two hand-written letters in reply (safely tucked into my binder of letters from real authors), Mr. Peck gave me one of the best moments of my entire writing life.

Writers work in isolation. Unless you are the sort of writer who likes a writing group (that's not me), we pretty much labor alone. What feedback we get is from our beta readers ("here are the things you need to fix"), our friends and family (usually pretty positive), and reviews on sites like Amazon, where the comments can range from very nice and heartening to incredibly mean and soul-wrenching. I have had reviews that have kept me up at nights, or have caused a three-day paralysis where I don't go anywhere near my work and sometimes shed a tear or five. We are real people behind those books and trust me, no matter how often it happens, bad reviews wound.

But we also get really great stuff from readers - people who tell me they are waiting for the next book, or that they're having a really good time with my characters, and that's like a balm for a wounded soul. As Mark Twain put it, "I can live for two months on a good compliment."

 So back to Mr. Peck. I was lucky enough to attend a weekend conference courtesy of The Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) because I am a member of the organization. The conference was a writing and critiquing event and not only was Mr. Peck our keynote speaker, he was actually going to hear us read an excerpt of whatever we were working on at the time. I read the invitation and realized even though I was terrified of reading my work in front of my hero, I would have regrets for the rest of my life if I didn't take this chance. I took it.

And so Mr. Peck got up in front of the classroom we were using for this event, and gave a talk about writing and the journey of publishing. Then it was our turn to read our own work, one at a time. I was sitting way in the back as is my custom, and I listened in awe as my colleagues each read several pages of their work. They were all so good at what they did. I was thinking I wasn't even at the same starting line as these people, but I had committed to this and there was no choice. 

When it came to my turn, I took some pages from my yet unfinished book, Haunted, and read aloud to the room and to Mr. Peck the scene where Cassie meets Daniel for the first time. I was both chilled and sweating bullets while I read, but not enough that I wasn't aware that my hero had gotten up from the teacher's desk at the front of the room, walked around to the back, and perched himself on an unoccupied desk across from mine. I kept reading, so nervous that the papers I held were trembling. And then I finished.

I looked up and the first thing I saw was him staring down at me, and then he said, "Well, you're very good, aren't you?" holding my gaze and giving me a little smile. 

I almost fell off my chair. He hadn't said that to anyone else although it seemed to me that there were at least fifteen other writers in that room who would have deserved that. I don't even remember what I said in reply. I think I managed to thank him. But I'll tell you what: I never looked at that stack of papers the same way again, and I went on to finish writing that book. And hopefully some of you have read it. 

So when I get those bad reviews, when my sales start to tank, when I get stuck at the keyboard and those ideas just aren't coming, I think back to when Richard Peck said that to me and feel about as awestruck as I did at that time. And my soul smiles a little. His compliment (that I have been living on for eight years, let alone two months) is side-by-side with that of a professor I had for a fiction writing class in college who told me, "You're really pretty good at this. Have you ever considered doing it for a living?" Just three short sentences, twenty-one words, when taken altogether, but enough to prop me up when my writing life feels too hard or too sad or too depressing or too dark.

Some people say words are just words, but I beg to differ. My hero writer and my college professor gave me words that help keep me validated even at my lowest. Words are powerful and lasting and they can be used to destroy or to affirm. Even when not at my keyboard, I try to be careful how I use them.

The (Non)Function of the Skeptic in a Supernatural Story

Before I released the book Haunted to kick off my Bridgeton Park Cemetery Series, a fellow writer who read the manuscript asked me how I could write a story where none of the characters doubted the supernatural. She found it unrealistic that no one in the story, especially the adults, questioned the idea that ghosts even exist, let alone that someone could be communicating with the dead. Her question took my by surprise, although I guess it shouldn't have.

It's not that I don't know skeptics and disbelievers in my own life. I think it's probably that I am more likely to spend time with those who share my beliefs, even if just a little. I also don't talk about supernatural concerns when surrounded by people who don't believe in these things anyway. I'm not trying to convert anyone to my way of thinking and I don't like being mocked. I also don't like feeling I need to defend my private beliefs, so it's easier just not to say a word in this direction.

But since the question had come up, I reread my manuscript in light of what my fellow writer had said, and in the end, I decided to go with the story the way I had written it. Part of it was that it still rang true to me, even after she had raised the thought.

The other part of it is purely about the story structure itself. All of us know books and movies where one of the subplots -or maybe even the whole plot- revolves around the haunted or troubled protagonist trying to convince his or her friend, relative, lover, spouse, etc, that what is going on is very real. As a writer and a reader, I kind of, well, loathe that device. I feel like it sucks energy from the real story, which is supernatural, and wastes time and the reader's goodwill. Unless the point of the book is to watch a character move from utter disbelief to total immersion into the paranormal, the whole there's-a-reasonable-explanation-for-what-is-happening thing just feels like a very tired cliche to me. 

While I understand that having a nonbeliever slow down the main character's quest, or throw a wrench in the works, or raise a needed complication, is a workable story pacing technique, I prefer a workaround to that entire concept. I get impatient with the whole "Please, you've got to believe me!" scenarios and wind up shouting at the TV "They're never going to believe you! They're never going to get it! Go find a fellow believer and take care of your problem without this person!" Of course, that never happens -the TV never listens to me, dang it- but I always feel irked when I watch a scene like that. 

I hope that everyone who reads this little blog also reads my hero, Stephen King. I have read quite a bit of him -not as much as Jim has, but quite a bit- and I don't remember running into that particular plot device in ANY of the books I've read. I figure if Mr. King doesn't need to waste the reader's time and energy on such a worn-out (and irritating) plot device, then I won't either. None of the stories I read over and over, whether it be Stephen King, Noel Hynd, Richard Peck, or any of my other fave supernatural and horror writers, ever includes The Official Disbeliever.

Perhaps the disbeliever is supposed to be the character that doubtful readers can identify with. Well, if that's the case, why this person reading a horror story anyhow? If none of this is ever going to feel real to the skeptical reader, then maybe said reader should give up horror and paranormal, and focus instead on the mainstream/general fiction genre, or even nonfiction.

Okay, rant over. I am happy to report that most of the reviews posted to Amazon about my work are from people who are happy to believe, if just for the length of the story. Even the negative reviews I have (and I do have those, believe me) have not been about skepticism, so perhaps this blog piece is preaching to the choir. At any event, now you know why you won't find any true non-believing characters in my work. I may not always succeed, but I prefer finding different ways to pace the flow of each tale other than relying on the old skeptic in the supernatural story.