An Honest Moment

Me: (having a moment) I should be nothing but grateful for the upcoming release of With A Name Like Love, but part of me is terrified. Not everyone likes historical fiction, you know. Half the people will think it's totally lame.

Daughter: At least.

ah...so the truth goes...

Rick Walton's Army of Utah Authors

Rick Walton, prodigious picture book dispenser and future ruler of the world (to be proven hereafter), teaches a class on the children’s book publishing industry at BYU, I think once a year. This class alone gives Rick a good case for a prominent position on the next Mount Rushmore. It is a fantastic class where undergrad students can learn about writing and illustrating to publish and the industry that makes that happen. For those serious about working in publishing, either as writers or agents or editors, this class is priceless. I wish I’d had it eight years ago, and openly confess my belief that had I benefited from such a class, my journey to publication may well have been two or three years shorter. If any of you have the chance to take this class from Rick in the future, do it. Don’t think about it. Do it.

Wednesday, for, I think, the second year, I had the opportunity to serve as a panelist at Rick’s class. Long time (relatively speaking) friends Dene Low and Kristen Chandler were on the panel as well, as were new friends Elana Johnson and Aaron Hawkins. Much was said, some of it likely helpful as I didn’t talk the whole time. But the most interesting extrapolation of the evening was a successful test of Rick’s ever-building army of obedient authors.

For those who aren’t aware, Rick Walton is the godfather of children’s writing in Utah, and he’s making a major move on taking in a bunch of new territory. I’m not certain I can think of anyone who has been as influential at helping other writers start and advance their careers in publishing as Rick (though Dave Farland/Wolverton deserves a nod here, too). What is less commonly known than Rick’s beneficial influence is the quid pro quo arrangement he has with all of us: in turn for his patronage, we all agree to serve as foot soldiers when he judges it time for his domination of earth. Really. He once talked about having us all replaced by robot versions to increase efficiency—apparently wary at how sporadic we can be at things such as keeping butt in seat to write, which can’t be that much more difficult than conquering Earth—but has thus far not acted on the decision. I hope Wednesday’s performance helped further ingratiate us organics to him.

When Rick asks, people come, whether its speaking to students or assaulting a tank brigade. Because he earns that grade of gratitude and appreciation by helping people out. And over the years he’s helped so many of us that he really does have an army of grateful writers hoping to some day find a way to reciprocate however we can. Not excluding serving in his special brigade of stormtroopers.

So for anyone who is not interested in writing for children, and thus is unlikely to be absorbed into Rick’s indebted army of domination, take solace in this fact: if the world has to have an overlord—and we all know it does—you couldn’t get a kinder, more thoughtful dictator than Rick, who will even forgive me for this post.

I hope.

Something Really Cool Just Happened

It would make a lot more sense if my first post here was an introduction. You know, something to let people know a bit about who I am, thus (hopefully) giving them a reason to care in the slightest about what I might say. Or at the least, I might have that bio and other stuff prepared to view elsewhere on the blog. (I should soon.)

Nope. That's not how I roll. Like Heath's Joker (one of the few characters who truly frightens me), I just do things. I'm like a dog chasing cars. I don't know what to do with them once I've caught them.

Consider this blog a new car I'm chasing. While the others posting here, my fellow Rock Canyon hommees, will certainly give this the feel of a finely tuned and expertly driven machine, I suspect my contribution will be the sense that some kind of humongous crash is perpetually around the next bend. Today's post is a good example. I have to do it now because it has to be immediate. Immediate in the sense that I wrote it yesterday and am managing to post it for a second (count them, twice) time today. (These posts are from my own blog at ClintJohnsonWrites.com.)

Don't worry. The moment things start making sense here you'll certainly realize it before I do.

*****

I wrote this all yesterday but had internet problems at work, so I'm posting it today. Forgive my tardiness.

*****

I do not Tweet, so the most up-to-date information on me is going to be found right here, on my blog. Practically Jurassic, I know, but that's the way it is.

I am at this moment sitting in the Student Writing Center at Salt Lake Community College where I work, reminiscing about how awesome it was to meet Jordan, a fifth grader from a school I visited sometime last year. She's been e-mailing me for a while, asking if I would sign her book, and we came to the arrangement that I'd take a little time to talk to her here at work. She just came in.

Now, I've signed books before. But I confess surprise when Jordan showed me the book she wanted signed, and I opened the cover to see I'd already signed it. No one has ever asked me to sign a book twice before. So what could I do? I signed it again, after writing her a message making clear that she was quite possibly the most awesome person alive in the world today. Then we chatted for a while. She asked me a few questions like what is my favorite book (I mentioned six or seven that came most instantly to mind, and offered silent apologies for the hoard that weren't so rapidly retrieved but are equally deserving). We talked about the three books she's writing, and I confessed that I could only manage one at a time. Then she asked what I was going to write next, and I showed her the pages I wrote this morning. I also told her she was the only person to have ever seen those pages other myself. She lit up.

Those of you who are not children's authors may not be aware of this, but children can produce light when they're truly happy. They glow bright enough make your way by.

I have given hundreds of autographs, which isn't saying much for a published author. I certainly haven't penned tens or hundreds of thousands like some writers. Maybe that's why giving one can still mean something. Mean a lot. While I hope that greater success lies ahead in my publishing journey than I've yet achieved, I really hope I never lose the ability to be humbled and renewed by the privilege of spending a little time with someone as special as Jordan.