I’m so excited to announce that I’m going to working on a graphic novel–no, a piece of graphic nonfiction–boy, do we need a better term for this genre!–anyway–a work of historical nonfiction in a graphic format based on the wonderful, touching, and uplifting stories collected by StoryCorps.
I’m thrilled to get to work with such great material, and also excited to be tackling my first script for a graphic work. So far in my career I’ve published novels, picture books, chapter books, early readers, nonfiction, fiction, and poetry–delighted to add graphic work to the list!
Read MoreJust send a new manuscript off to my agent–fingers crossed that we’ll find a publisher. The working title is SCAT! Fascinating Facts About What Animals Leave Behind. Because who doesn’t love a good poop book?
(My teenaged daughter, that’s who. She’s the one who has had to listen to me chat about my topics of research over the dinner table for the last few months.)
I thought I’d share my favorite fascinating fact: sloths poop on the ground. It is literally the only time they climb down out of their trees, and it’s a fraught and perilous journey. They are in danger the whole time, vulnerable to predators that they can’t run away from. Luckily they only defecate about once a week. (Their digestive system is as slow as the rest of them.) But why would they do it this way in the first place?
NO ONE KNOWS. It is one of the great mysteries of biology.
There are theories. It sends a signal about readiness to mate! It fertilizes the tree upon which the sloth depends for food and shelter! And my favorite–it allows the moths which nest in the sloth’s fur a chance to lay their eggs in the poop! But no one is really sure.
I love that there are mysteries left in the world.
Read MoreThankful this week for a lovely review of Save the Elephants! from Booklist.
Read MoreReaders will come away with a sense of awe about these unique and majestic animals, and they are encouraged to perform everyday acts that help ensure elephants do not go extinct. A worthwhile addition to conservation collections and the animal shelves.
The third grade made lovely little cards to greet me! This artist’s card was prescient–of course I liked them!
This card reads: “Welcome Sarah Thomson to our school. I hope you have fun Sarah Thomson.” I did! I’m glad kids know visits are fun for me as well as for them.
Last week I spent two wonderful days as a visiting author with the kids at Fruit Street School in Bangor. What a fulfilling sense of normalcy, to be back to seeing kids face to face, reading, talking, and connecting! The pre-k and kindergarten classes and I bonded over wombats and wallabies, and with the first, second, and third grades we discussed how long the longest snakes are and how to structure a nonfiction book. Delightful!
Read MoreI’ve been trying to post a new scary short short story every Halloween. Twenty years from now, maybe I’ll have enough for a collection.
For now, enjoy!
Right after her family moved into their new house, she began to smell it.
Not always there. Just a whiff when she’d flip a switch and a dusty ceiling fan would groan into life. Or she’d open a closet and the smell would waft toward her, then vanish.
Damp. Thick. Rotting.
–You’re imagining it, sweetie.
–You just need to get used to the new place.
She left the windows open at all times. She dragged rugs outside into fresh air. She scrubbed floors with a stiff brush dripping hot water and bleach.
Her hands were red and sore. One of her knuckles cracked. She put her finger to her lips, but instead of salt, all she could taste was the smell.
Heavy. Oozing. Foul.
–This isn’t right.
–We’ll take you to see someone. Someone to talk to.
She lay in bed, and the smell seemed to slip long, slender fingers down her throat, coating her insides with slime.
She thought of mold, deep inside the walls. By morning, she’d clawed off as much wallpaper as she could reach. The walls, laid bare, were white and clean, but the smell was worse than ever.
–Look at her hands.
–We have to go now. We’re taking you somewhere safe.
Looking up at the concerned faces, she realized at last where the smell was coming from.
Dark, fuzzy tendrils spiraled into her whites of her father’s eyes. They spiderwebbed from the corners of her mother’s mouth.
Her bloody hands curled tight.
She knew what she’d have to clean next.
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An editor complimented me this week by saying I was the first author she had ever known to fix a dangling participle rather than introduce one. I’m proud.
A dangling participle sounds like some finicky grammar tidbit only a fusspot would worry about, but it’s actually quite simple. It’s all about getting a descriptive phrase (the participle) next to the noun it modifies. If it’s closer to a different noun, it “dangles”–i.e. it’s not securely attached to the right noun.
Like this:
The site of the infamous Mannequin Massacre, Algernon had always been fascinated by Lord Lingleberry’s Tower.
The participle (“the site of the infamous Mannequin Massacre”) appears to describe Algernon rather than Lord Lingleberry’s Tower. It dangles.
Algernon had always been fascinated by Lord Lingleberry’s Tower, the site of the infamous Mannequin Massacre.
Now the participle is securely next to the noun it describes. No more dangling.
Read MoreDelighted to reveal the cover of my upcoming chapter book, Two Friends, One Dog, and a Very Unusual Week!
“Emily knew what kind of a kid she was. The responsible kind. The kind teachers asked to take a message to the office. The kind who hung up her coat without being asked. The kind who had never been late to school. Not even once.”
And then Rani, plus her big dog Otto, move into Emily’s apartment building….
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