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Jennifer Holm must have an enchanted computer. She uses it to create fabulous books, one after the other: Penny from Heaven, Turtle in Paradise, Our Only May Amelia, the Babymouse books, and my new favorite, the splendid The Trouble with May Amelia. May Amelia is twelve years old in 1900, living with her large Finnish family near the Columbia River in western Washington state. Life is hard but May Amelia’s troubles make for very funny reading, whether she falls once again into the river or is overturned in an outhouse by an angry bull or is driving off her beloved teacher’s would-be suitors. Father is convinced Girls Are Useless and brother Wilbert says she’s “like the grain of sand in an oyster. Someday I will be a Pearl, but I will nag and irritate the poor oyster and everyone else up until then.” Readers will have no doubt that May Amelia’s pearl days are coming soon. I urge you to find and read The Trouble with May Amelia. And I want to know where I can get me one of those enchanted computers.

I would like to do something different for my next book. What do you think about my writing a fantasy?  Light fantasy—maybe a weather witch and an enchantress, hedge witches and hags and the daughter of a wise woman. No vampires, no wizards, no walking dead. I am playing around with the idea but I hit a brick wall when I come to the fantasy stuff. Who knew I was so practical and literal? And I seem to be creating an evil force that can’t be defeated. Hmmm. Maybe I should try a romance novel or a picture book instead.

I finally finished the revision of Will Sparrow’s Road and sent it off to Dinah, my editor. She responded “You did it!” which I take to mean I am done done done except for miscellaneous jots and quibbles. It’s a relief to have Will gone but I also feel a bit lonely and at loose ends. I need to come up with another book to fill the emptiness he left. I have lots of ideas but nothing has taken me over yet. It’s sort of like floating in a space full of interesting sights and sounds but wanting only a safe place to land.

Today is Phil’s 66th birthday. We have aged together and only grown closer. I had big plans to celebrate but he has come down with the flu so it’s imaginary cake, imaginary champagne, and imaginary hoopla. Happy birthday anyway, sweetheart. I am so glad you were born.

I just painted one wall of my writing space red. It’s actually a better red than in the photo but still might be too cherry for me. I love the idea and just wish I could see the wall from where I sit. I may have to paint all the walls red. I found a Benjamin Moore color called Bohemian Red. Doesn’t that sound arty and creative? Maybe I’ll try that—a Bohemian red room.

This is my daughter’s cat, Murphy. She weighs five pounds and has very big feet. Murphy is fearless. I once saw her stalk and terrorize a dog that had the nerve to come into her house and make himself at home. Murphy is 17 this month. Happy birthday, Murphala, Murphyola, Murphbucket, Murphster, Murph the Smurf, the Murph! You are tiny but mighty and we love you.

The saying goes “nibbled to death by ducks” and I know exactly what that means. The last months have been filled with obligations, mostly small but time consuming. 

The sun is shining today and I may, like Phil the groundhog, stick my head out and see what I see. More writing, less filler, I hope. I have new ideas galore.

Happy spring to you!

Remember way last year when scientists discovered the blobfish? Well, this is how I feel these days. I am between books—Will Sparrow’s Road is with Dinah, my editor, waiting for her comments (gulp) and I have no new idea knocking and calling. It is not a good place for me. I tend to turn into a blobfish. Alas, alas, I fear I will never have another idea and will never write again! I hope you are energetically jumping into the new year and not blobbish at all.

If I were in charge of the Printz Awards, I would have found my winner this weekend. But I am in charge of nothing but this website (sort of) and so will post my winner here. Ta-da, Plain Kate by Erin Bow! Laini Taylor recommended it so highly in her blog that I searched it out, saying all along, “Don’t like fantasy, not my kind of book, cute kids and cats? Feggit it.” And then I read it. What a mysterious, horrifying, sweet, sad, romantic, haunting, funny book, filled with poetry and magic. Really, all of those things. And the cat is definitely not cute but is brave, silly, boastful and prideful, caring for nothing but food and Kate. Look for it. It’s wonderful. If like me you are not a fantasy fan, you might like it anyway. And if you are, you will be mad for it.

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt is publishing a new edition of the classic The Witch of Blackbird Pond. I was honored, thrilled, and intimidated to be asked to write an introduction, but I did it. I read the book first as an adult, but I asked a number of women who read the book as a young person to tell me about it. Without exception or hesitation they said, “I loved that book!” and “It meant a lot to me” and “It was the first time I saw myself in a book.” Save your pennies and buy the book—the one with my intro, of course. It will mean a lot to you, too.