In our ongoing sorting and downsizing
process, my ever-efficient daughter Jordan has bought plastic bins to store
some of my books in a climate-controlled storage unit. She started today with
my children’s books, a frustrating chore because the more she sorted, the more
she found scattered in among other books. And then there were some boxes—Jacob unearthed
three boxes of A Ballad for Sallie, not
intended as a children’s book but taken that way by the publisher. When Leisure
Books went out of business, they sold or gave the rights to Amazon, which reprinted
it with a new cover. When Jacob found the new edition, he was completely
flabbergasted.
In spells in which my fiction didn’t
seem welcome, I wrote on assignment for several publishing houses that specialized
in books for school libraries. Some assignments were traditional, and those
books still bring me tiny checks every once in a while. Others were done as
work-for-hire, and I got a one-time payment.
Jordan was astounded at the number of
books and the variety—she came across single copies of books on vaccines,
surgery, and passenger ships—how’s that for diversity? She also found single
copies of a number of histories of various states and worried whether she and
her siblings had copies of those. On the other hand, I have so many copies of
the book I did on Christopher Reeve that we are awash and uncertain what to do
with them.
The good thing about writing those
books (beside the rather uneven pay) was that they required quite a bit of
research, and I learned a lot doing them. Some stretched my creativity—like one
on mapping the Old West. A fact checker questioned me, and I had to explain
that no, I didn’t plagiarize but there aren’t that many written sources on how
Native Americans found their way around. A book on the international treatment
of women presented another challenge—until I convinced the publisher to let me create
a fictional camp where teens from various countries came together to share
their stories. I rather thought the book a success, but I have no idea what the
foundation behind it thought.
Jordan is advocating for a “Judy Alter
Night” at the Old Neighborhood Grill where I hold all my signings. She envisions
one display of each of these books, plus introducing my forthcoming historical
novel, The Gilded Cage. I am
uncertain, but I realized when I looked at the display of books on the couches
(she’s organizing stacks by title) that those books represent a lot of long
hours of research and writing. Makes me kind of proud.
Happy Birthday today to my big
brother. He’s sixty. If you believe that, then I am fifty-four. And if you
believe that, I have a lot of books to sell you cheap!
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