tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38602302375843513552024-02-20T21:08:26.196-08:00tjshefelmanJanice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-15409052777008171772023-09-21T07:58:00.000-07:002023-09-21T07:58:10.278-07:00Village Without Men<p>JANICE: My historical novel, <i>Village Without Men:</i> <i>Sophie’s Second Journal,</i> is here! A sequel to <i>Sophie's War,</i> it continues her story of survival in Comfort, Texas, during the Civil War. The cover portrait was painted by my son Karl, using a teenage photo of me since I had to become Sophie to write her journal.</p><p>Why are there no men in the village? you may ask. Read on ...<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2wRJVpMeOiIjd5X_3NFkinh57FUKsBLN5HTN2X7XIvFvqY62SQ7xpNp4lIuGBJyF3o7HHn2VBr-1HoZEpPOckNBffWdBVjOfSz9eliiEb0vpkt7CIaYVwEQ2N1PkOU_Yj_-ANznfH-7jjA_bc1GbCGMUbT5QOWeyPWnnG_0paDwTGtZWDFc-Zgv4TZ9a/s2556/Village%20Without%20Men%20Cover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2556" data-original-width="1663" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2wRJVpMeOiIjd5X_3NFkinh57FUKsBLN5HTN2X7XIvFvqY62SQ7xpNp4lIuGBJyF3o7HHn2VBr-1HoZEpPOckNBffWdBVjOfSz9eliiEb0vpkt7CIaYVwEQ2N1PkOU_Yj_-ANznfH-7jjA_bc1GbCGMUbT5QOWeyPWnnG_0paDwTGtZWDFc-Zgv4TZ9a/s320/Village%20Without%20Men%20Cover.jpeg" width="208" /></a></div>The German immigrants in Comfort and the hill country were Unionists living in a state that had left the Union and joined the Confederacy. Thus they were in constant danger. They were called traitors and persecuted. Men were hanged and cabins burned. As the war goes on, all the able men in Comfort have been forced to
leave and fight on one side or the other, including Sophie’s papa and
her true love, Eduard. The only choices were to fight for slavery or escape to the North and fight for the Union. Thus the women were left to protect themselves from
vigilantes and hostile Indians, as they wonder if their men will ever
come home.<p>Books make connections that never would have been made without the book. Judy Ireson, artist and former master teacher, and I connected over <i>Sophie's War </i>in an extraordinary way, as if we were destined to meet and create a book together<i>.</i> I would probably not have written <i>Village Without Men </i>without her. </p><p>This is how it happened ...</p><p>Judy once lived in Nashville and frequented Parnassus Books. On one occasion a bookseller recommended <i>Sophie's War, </i>but Judy did not want a war book. Still, she did not forget it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZB3yeMpErH_XubHJp_6J7JSGzWqPjqVmarHpF-99aCZc5sMm5pq3yfsxQuuJicL_P_RRhRvWDzd0TUHxV34XwW5pxl-ANWPbnYAPyxVFtWFFmT23DhklxWs2eymJ5VC15LWO_zSlHKj-RzQHbLLhsp_SESTyqS8aeW8C3_DrEH1JZdJgPWF7nRnolt5Mj/s1517/Sophie's%20War.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1517" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZB3yeMpErH_XubHJp_6J7JSGzWqPjqVmarHpF-99aCZc5sMm5pq3yfsxQuuJicL_P_RRhRvWDzd0TUHxV34XwW5pxl-ANWPbnYAPyxVFtWFFmT23DhklxWs2eymJ5VC15LWO_zSlHKj-RzQHbLLhsp_SESTyqS8aeW8C3_DrEH1JZdJgPWF7nRnolt5Mj/s320/Sophie's%20War.jpg" width="228" /></a></div> <p></p><p>Time moved on and so did Judy - to Austin. At a holiday bazaar, she again encountered <i>Sophie's War </i>as well as the author, and bought the book, telling me of the coincidence of finding it again, as if by fate. After reading it, she told me, "I love this book and it demands a sequel."</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m3x-C7R00R5u2SZpgBcR8O9ukYyzWmATsi_D-KzcFV5HhcyVBFDxkIR-1j2eUCC-Jp_phvQqnIZY16OZWTPTa17OHLJHYVRL7yR5hMK2b4ppHrEVs0AZNi9n1A-Dcqm4ETOeyyeGBaP3WkesHWQiZsHtGsGcIeccMZgSa4EAT1V7I7wu-DT4-ROYTHL7/s960/Christmas%20Bazaar%202018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m3x-C7R00R5u2SZpgBcR8O9ukYyzWmATsi_D-KzcFV5HhcyVBFDxkIR-1j2eUCC-Jp_phvQqnIZY16OZWTPTa17OHLJHYVRL7yR5hMK2b4ppHrEVs0AZNi9n1A-Dcqm4ETOeyyeGBaP3WkesHWQiZsHtGsGcIeccMZgSa4EAT1V7I7wu-DT4-ROYTHL7/s320/Christmas%20Bazaar%202018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I had thought of writing a sequel, but did not know what would happen to the characters. And so we began meeting once a week, planning the plot, discussing my chapters one by one, which I read aloud to her. In turn she brought drawings for me to critique, drawings of places she had been and people she knew. They were so good, I asked her to draw two illustrations for the book, one of Sophie's papa, a self portrait. And here is the result.<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEG8bsmbjF3n9DMdORoZswqdVmVNrIwZbv_uvskcO701Me8wOwTyJiWLMvFl_dJlZVAlZmq0DsTTONeqR-3tAlFdDxefhL5136atlmh1-pbaIBPzEzhgM4yNMjWF2dyqdaFTmR7mBotF8kWpgmkIfMLCbs08cvD4tl_cI-kr0knmMLxah30V1D9O-FFuwe/s1389/Papa%20by%20Judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="1092" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEG8bsmbjF3n9DMdORoZswqdVmVNrIwZbv_uvskcO701Me8wOwTyJiWLMvFl_dJlZVAlZmq0DsTTONeqR-3tAlFdDxefhL5136atlmh1-pbaIBPzEzhgM4yNMjWF2dyqdaFTmR7mBotF8kWpgmkIfMLCbs08cvD4tl_cI-kr0knmMLxah30V1D9O-FFuwe/s320/Papa%20by%20Judy.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><p> </p><p>I did much research for <i>Sophie's War </i>in libraries, online<i>, </i>and on site.<i> </i>I made many trips to Comfort where people welcomed me with open arms, including a descendant of one of the founders. I spent days during the different seasons absorbing the sights and sounds of Comfort and the countryside, watching the sun rise over Cypress Creek and sheep grazing in the meadow below Sophie's homestead. I listened to the wind sough in the liveoak branches and felt myself becoming Sophie.</p><p></p><p>For <i>Village Without Men </i>I also needed to research San Antonio and the Menger Hotel, which was built in 1859 and still stands, as elegant as ever.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51XjH2eHUsCdGJxOgOBNHMbzbUb1bUsHm-vBmBoHZcME6DRSlOyLODIomz5qbtjKWPn0VAVKL4hZYc3jci-kQfL1dNetR9ir3hGwcBScKPcj3aDYNWJASDcQeV9ad8lgZIOqDSvJ8Yo0_fprS01T8mLRbCrF5_6EMbEAI3koEIO526dXBr-qWgWyh58bn/s1080/Menger%20Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51XjH2eHUsCdGJxOgOBNHMbzbUb1bUsHm-vBmBoHZcME6DRSlOyLODIomz5qbtjKWPn0VAVKL4hZYc3jci-kQfL1dNetR9ir3hGwcBScKPcj3aDYNWJASDcQeV9ad8lgZIOqDSvJ8Yo0_fprS01T8mLRbCrF5_6EMbEAI3koEIO526dXBr-qWgWyh58bn/w400-h224/Menger%20Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a> <br /></div><p>William Menger also plays a role in the story. A stalwart citizen, hotel builder and owner, consummate business man, and Chief of the San Antonio Fire Department. What a guy! Here he is in his chief's uniform.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJufR6ghi7j6YEjD5GGO1rGzZCD5hVCDFSZZtAhfih60jF6Rr_Q5izf7R3hYiEufFUNM2R-VdYdHnpFOgGgNwwnCHLPEFWEWe-69g83HTr0QNJHi9QaWuUbubmCu65nhEwjXI2h6ctdHZnVxBHTEKXtiszdtt-nrPSt2A0ZDJtKlto0kZFdaxarEZVE75/s1024/William%20Menger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJufR6ghi7j6YEjD5GGO1rGzZCD5hVCDFSZZtAhfih60jF6Rr_Q5izf7R3hYiEufFUNM2R-VdYdHnpFOgGgNwwnCHLPEFWEWe-69g83HTr0QNJHi9QaWuUbubmCu65nhEwjXI2h6ctdHZnVxBHTEKXtiszdtt-nrPSt2A0ZDJtKlto0kZFdaxarEZVE75/s320/William%20Menger.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><p> </p><p>And so, after five years Judy and I have a book, <i>Village Without Men, </i>which is available from Amazon and from your favorite bookstore, either on the shelf or by ordering. We wish you good reading.</p><p>A promise: After reading this book you will never think of the Civil War in the same way again. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz9j48hT9YTyN5V5LFji2w66ysttylFb_Ub_CqNpnDhvro_iqAej7Z5hbR2Nwpy7P9FXvIwvYoZqwUhVatI9bn0UMUdOa4TT8ahijyr6bigbB1pfPXduS3cO54nOAdPJLLbycdbsW3maTfUV6RzdqN_sDgdejaX-k_DNd_pdifY2HRTKq_vcIeyzutI1h/s960/Janice%20&%20Judy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="742" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXz9j48hT9YTyN5V5LFji2w66ysttylFb_Ub_CqNpnDhvro_iqAej7Z5hbR2Nwpy7P9FXvIwvYoZqwUhVatI9bn0UMUdOa4TT8ahijyr6bigbB1pfPXduS3cO54nOAdPJLLbycdbsW3maTfUV6RzdqN_sDgdejaX-k_DNd_pdifY2HRTKq_vcIeyzutI1h/s320/Janice%20&%20Judy.jpg" width="247" /></a></div> Judy and Janice<br /><p><br /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /> </span></span>
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{page:Section1;}</style></p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /><br /></p>Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-50687788265513765582021-10-25T13:19:00.001-07:002021-10-26T09:36:38.231-07:00Memorable Letters from Fourth Graders<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3AQ5zpbdkW22amx8C03k01Sxzi9Yy5pj-oUS-X7ANsneh8y-Fw-QO0j-xEKguV0kfkU7TZEMeAudEC_evQnvRL2dVh-7RvY3BOLGcYCu7qISNE7NU2kHi2WZQ5lsyGtrLbVaguACz3tW/s2048/Paradise+Called+Texas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1301" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3AQ5zpbdkW22amx8C03k01Sxzi9Yy5pj-oUS-X7ANsneh8y-Fw-QO0j-xEKguV0kfkU7TZEMeAudEC_evQnvRL2dVh-7RvY3BOLGcYCu7qISNE7NU2kHi2WZQ5lsyGtrLbVaguACz3tW/w203-h320/Paradise+Called+Texas.jpg" width="203" /></a></div> JANICE: <span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql oi732d6d ik7dh3pa ht8s03o8 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v b1v8xokw oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto">Recently
I was going through a file of memorable letters from fourth grade
children who read my Texas Trilogy. Once again they swept me away, and I
want to share excerpts with you. Each paragraph is a separate unedited
comment from a different child, different school.</span><br /> <p></p><p><br /> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> Dear Mrs. Shefelman,<br /><br />"I know that it is hard for Mina to loose her mother at such a young age because my real father died when I was two. I think that your book should be expose to children because no matter what happen, they can still live their life as a normal kid and better days will come." - Karina<br /></p><p>"Thank you for coming to Doss. I liked your hat and your smell. And I also liked "Paradise Called Texas" book." - Nan-Ku<br /><br />'My favorite part of all three books is when Mina and Amaya first meet in Paradise Called Texas. I like it because it was two very different people meeting and able to understand each other." - Sabrina<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvP8vaOemdZCFjpyHpy2kPBA8v8wNSr4_wDYfD4Ar99vnKhNYPU4N_d2kY9M0dOoWMUM9UCLDD3EIerQVph51VHrX9lyFArAJ3RG6aMS4NAsE4PeCnfjrIsyo8WPPZ6P_hqFoSjn74g_b/s1500/Willow+Creek+Home.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="983" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvP8vaOemdZCFjpyHpy2kPBA8v8wNSr4_wDYfD4Ar99vnKhNYPU4N_d2kY9M0dOoWMUM9UCLDD3EIerQVph51VHrX9lyFArAJ3RG6aMS4NAsE4PeCnfjrIsyo8WPPZ6P_hqFoSjn74g_b/s320/Willow+Creek+Home.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><p><br />"I like the way you put feeling and action into your writing. I can picture whats happening in a part of every one of your books." - Aaron<br /><br />"I have been inspired deeply by your speeches and encouragement to find our gift. I am deeply interested in armory, art, maritime biology and the military. I have many dreams of being a swordsmith and creating the most beautiful swords, shields, lances and battle axes you can imagine." - Noel<br /><br />"Have you ever had a moment of grief in your life? I have." - Marshal<br /><br />"The sad part is that Mama died. I liked Mama so much but she just had to go. The rest of the story wouldn't be the same if she lived. So in a way, I really like Mama's death." - Jackson<br /><br />I think you shouldn't make your books into movies because it takes away how you imagine what is happening in the book." - Suliana<br /><br />"My favorite part of A Paradise Called Texas is when Mina put the little wood seagull on Mama's coffin it was so upsetting. I have gone through the same thing as Mina. My dad died this past year in October." - Andrew<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg9svVDNlgH1OKIq4eChn7Jn6p7LAoAcfzyZKj7XOY0oYjjYibATGlTYSV0PFRp6NTtrqi9jn1eIqqUNC9FM49EGZL5Uj3ylLxBUp8XdAyHg5eZuB46KKphLmLquCTyvSsUHOQCMyAQu4C/s1500/Spirit+of+Iron.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="979" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg9svVDNlgH1OKIq4eChn7Jn6p7LAoAcfzyZKj7XOY0oYjjYibATGlTYSV0PFRp6NTtrqi9jn1eIqqUNC9FM49EGZL5Uj3ylLxBUp8XdAyHg5eZuB46KKphLmLquCTyvSsUHOQCMyAQu4C/s320/Spirit+of+Iron.jpg" width="209" /></a></div> <p></p><p>"My gift is to write and I always thought of it as a long-term contest, to find as many things in the world as you can. It's also like a sport with a mind such as mine running as fast as it can, collecting ideas upon the way." - Paul<br /><br />"Thank you for coming. I realy injoyed you visit becaus it was intrasting, injoyful and most of all becaus I mist Math and Spelling." - Stephen<br /><br /></p><p>Friends, you can't make this up! Never underestimate children's wisdom, dreams, and honesty. I answered them all - the grievers, the dreamers, the wise and the funny ones.<br /> <br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br />Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-42019984246283053472021-06-30T08:30:00.005-07:002023-08-01T10:53:38.495-07:00New Work-in-Progress<p> JANICE: Now that my latest book project, <i>Village Without Men,</i> is in the hands of the publisher, I have begun a historical novel set in ancient Athens during the time of Pericles - the golden age. The working title is <i>Aspasia's Choice</i>. Such an ambitious project means research, research, and more research, which I find fascinating, especially visual research. The images give me the power to make images in my head, which turn into words on paper. Here we have a reconstruction of the Acropolis.<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczRhPUbRR-wbZFUhGaKJzUvrVHMrwoDtDm_gL_KstenKnq3L3qHfiFh7RwPpsmSmnANmjpmDXAE_zGbVPTFuzEvKG9xhj-ThgXcAEjHzlKiy4BIj5HfjP6kQMBTv8R73xv3_X6tCDu1Nv/s1486/Akropolis_by_Leo_von_Klenze.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1018" data-original-width="1486" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczRhPUbRR-wbZFUhGaKJzUvrVHMrwoDtDm_gL_KstenKnq3L3qHfiFh7RwPpsmSmnANmjpmDXAE_zGbVPTFuzEvKG9xhj-ThgXcAEjHzlKiy4BIj5HfjP6kQMBTv8R73xv3_X6tCDu1Nv/w400-h274/Akropolis_by_Leo_von_Klenze.jpg" title="The Acropolis" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And one of the theater of Dionysus at the base of the Acropolis. I once sat on these steep seats and listened to Beethoven's 9th Symphony.<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKsKyDDabZm5BkLvTqACy7O4Vh4f89F7sQIgbG8IKJDRmFhvlW5jABGK6wWTS-pwXvnSKzCOLcrVEckIcHlM9r53yHwK2ZoTs6xxmEYA6euZ_yW6TlFnIcyfhyphenhyphenD7G9hcaSHSan2BgLtiO/s550/theater-dionysos1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="550" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKsKyDDabZm5BkLvTqACy7O4Vh4f89F7sQIgbG8IKJDRmFhvlW5jABGK6wWTS-pwXvnSKzCOLcrVEckIcHlM9r53yHwK2ZoTs6xxmEYA6euZ_yW6TlFnIcyfhyphenhyphenD7G9hcaSHSan2BgLtiO/w400-h254/theater-dionysos1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Not only do I need settings, I need to know about daily life, how the people dressed, what they ate, what their houses were like, etc. The basic garment of both women and men was a chiton. After much searching I found this simple drawing of how a chiton works. <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5sN6D0y_Ps8UVMNSZvwS-cLkJ46-08ZpSvIltlNIkgtsTcinLKXeMr2cr4HVF2eX96QDkj0X771RwK7SQq3umqPPGnRH5hhMEuqh8HZhq6fO6N-Jd6cJaw3PRR-_1vkJjJHpGg5IoGEw/s691/Chiton.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="563" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5sN6D0y_Ps8UVMNSZvwS-cLkJ46-08ZpSvIltlNIkgtsTcinLKXeMr2cr4HVF2eX96QDkj0X771RwK7SQq3umqPPGnRH5hhMEuqh8HZhq6fO6N-Jd6cJaw3PRR-_1vkJjJHpGg5IoGEw/s320/Chiton.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I need images of the characters. Here is the main character, based on a historical person.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cSNdCoCZg2-MJ-fk7U1CQe3Pik_o6vADCKf1rOzEKy0y3PKjavS9ry2tOjZw-F_tu-mOw4GtWpEIqJuyLBcEci4SD2vErL9qXeAjb7slb1AVWzSmYnxjJX5FiRhDFKvbnx5ZDcnAcXNF/s256/Aspasia+2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="197" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cSNdCoCZg2-MJ-fk7U1CQe3Pik_o6vADCKf1rOzEKy0y3PKjavS9ry2tOjZw-F_tu-mOw4GtWpEIqJuyLBcEci4SD2vErL9qXeAjb7slb1AVWzSmYnxjJX5FiRhDFKvbnx5ZDcnAcXNF/w308-h400/Aspasia+2.jpg" width="308" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maps and plans are helpful, such as this one of Athens Agora.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsuHYGvLsXfP-y0KDDvCg4RNnM6cbs-RB8iim2Dexi0Rs8fBl3slmJydCk_wt9JZZXSEgjM3z_LL6uSKBa8CPvNTTg-wxZdNf0S0vPB8yIb-kmmMsvMrZgelImrT20mNpJpoVYUp5-x7q/s2048/Athens+Agora+Map.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1938" data-original-width="2048" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsuHYGvLsXfP-y0KDDvCg4RNnM6cbs-RB8iim2Dexi0Rs8fBl3slmJydCk_wt9JZZXSEgjM3z_LL6uSKBa8CPvNTTg-wxZdNf0S0vPB8yIb-kmmMsvMrZgelImrT20mNpJpoVYUp5-x7q/w400-h379/Athens+Agora+Map.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this plan of a Greek house helps me write scenes of my characters at home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4p0-5sK84X9Cat6J3JHnz_r77V06_AkEWH-7OyHts-4DRG0JaOyFFVGIi0r_dH5Obhz4feA8IbQKP4rB8ikWKPRb99Toi5zzvEywcT58wD8TnjlrAxI1XdMnAQ-vmgsAwUfHV0cIj7Q1/s960/Greek+House.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4p0-5sK84X9Cat6J3JHnz_r77V06_AkEWH-7OyHts-4DRG0JaOyFFVGIi0r_dH5Obhz4feA8IbQKP4rB8ikWKPRb99Toi5zzvEywcT58wD8TnjlrAxI1XdMnAQ-vmgsAwUfHV0cIj7Q1/w400-h300/Greek+House.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, whenever I can't write, it is because I can't visualize the scene, which means more research to get in touch with that moment in time and place. As David McCullough, author of the Pulitzer Prize winning biography of John Adams, said, "I've been living in the 18th Century for seven years, and I'm not coming back." Well, I'm living in the 5th Century BC, but I <i>will</i> be back so I don't catch the plague that came to Athens in 430 BC.<br /></div><br /> <br /></div><br /><p><br /> </p><br /><br /><p><br /></p>Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-4744182780831458702020-11-23T15:02:00.002-08:002020-11-23T15:13:20.250-08:00Write Yourself into Existence<p>JANICE: I wish those were my words but they belong to Dave Eggers. He also said, "You should write your story because you will someday die, and
without your story on paper, most of it will be forgotten." Three times I have taken his advice - to save my legacy and write myself into existence. The first book is<i> Becoming Alive, </i>which takes me from birth to Tom, my true love<i>.</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizu1rMjhjIINnDZxbpdLZCnDrwnwr_wR_QksZeI28QdRnvif2THV8HW4FYoZU9e6fAUl4Yye-lX2RKPfhqNhKe2EVLDGVXHqkrnnrXcLxBjLzTxF3B1VpFhhiKgv_S4WcSq0X-P-hg3MzH/s2048/Becoming+Alive+front.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1371" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizu1rMjhjIINnDZxbpdLZCnDrwnwr_wR_QksZeI28QdRnvif2THV8HW4FYoZU9e6fAUl4Yye-lX2RKPfhqNhKe2EVLDGVXHqkrnnrXcLxBjLzTxF3B1VpFhhiKgv_S4WcSq0X-P-hg3MzH/s320/Becoming+Alive+front.jpg" /></a></div>I tell of my journey to become alive. I was not the smartest or prettiest girl around, but I yearned to do something extraordinary, which I later understood to mean finding where my life is. Fortunately my professor father read to me from an early age and exposed me to classical music. We had discussions about God and the universe, books and music. <p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The second book is <i>Honeymoon Hobos, </i>which tells of the yearlong journey that Tom and I took after our marriage. We sold our possessions and set out from Long Beach, California, on a sleek Japanese freighter bound for Yokohama. Our goal was to live inside other cultures, and that is exactly what we did. In Tokyo we lived in the homes of a Japanese war widow, then a Japanese architect, and in Kyoto a Zen Buddhist temple. It changed our lives forever.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3cbqB0qeyLrnwDgiMrgLfg96zivvGHv-nu_gflBfYp8TVm-RejJpl5TgcZZwfzgUJ7O-575GAanMbGnxHNxGeMyooPyENKt7U7hjeanT7QGsuFp1PDrk12DCoreBhzcc0mXgNk5L-Zze/s600/hh+cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="407" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3cbqB0qeyLrnwDgiMrgLfg96zivvGHv-nu_gflBfYp8TVm-RejJpl5TgcZZwfzgUJ7O-575GAanMbGnxHNxGeMyooPyENKt7U7hjeanT7QGsuFp1PDrk12DCoreBhzcc0mXgNk5L-Zze/s320/hh+cover.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p><br /><i></i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Most recently I published a third memoir, <i>Bringing Up Boys with Tom. </i>When Tom asked me to marry him, I smiled and said, "Yes, if I don't have to cook or have children." I am still lukewarm about cooking but bringing up our boys was one of the greatest joys of my life. </p><p>Tom and I created a home that sheltered daydreaming. There Tom taught Karl and Daniel to draw and make things with their hands. I opened up the world to them by reading books aloud and planning family trips. Together we strove to encourage creativity, an adventurous spirit, knowledge of our cultural heritage, and empathy for other cultures.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcMPuhQe4tceYc4WKYnLhPaViwDT2dWw6E1-I0aKfgWiDkP8vTfTr7sPDKciqNCI1rZAFnZW9Kar8581-Wki0sRFblTIIS6SQgTH5B3XJLqNZbgQsZtPOzCQREKS3C4sQQAx2ray1MFH8/s2048/Bringing+Up+Boys+with+Tom+Cover.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMcMPuhQe4tceYc4WKYnLhPaViwDT2dWw6E1-I0aKfgWiDkP8vTfTr7sPDKciqNCI1rZAFnZW9Kar8581-Wki0sRFblTIIS6SQgTH5B3XJLqNZbgQsZtPOzCQREKS3C4sQQAx2ray1MFH8/s320/Bringing+Up+Boys+with+Tom+Cover.jpeg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /><i></i></p>Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-82318852416783292682020-03-03T18:25:00.000-08:002020-03-03T18:25:43.013-08:00Antonio and Liam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: When I received this photo of little Liam absorbed in Tom's and my
picture book biography,<i> I, Vivaldi,</i> I was shocked. I never imagined that our book and Vivaldi's music would be loved by such a young child.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMULjU5ez-3Ndn5eFGTOgO3QfIAgybUV4OpK9b6vJGT1D63DEB65WX_RohwuDfPqIVzv9t4v46XKQtF-JAQePDJHZU6JHCd4PJ6bsvXe7bZecFV72nwL4AxKY4xyp8KRKIG6XPgdCaI5Di/s1600/Liam+and+Vivaldi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMULjU5ez-3Ndn5eFGTOgO3QfIAgybUV4OpK9b6vJGT1D63DEB65WX_RohwuDfPqIVzv9t4v46XKQtF-JAQePDJHZU6JHCd4PJ6bsvXe7bZecFV72nwL4AxKY4xyp8KRKIG6XPgdCaI5Di/s320/Liam+and+Vivaldi.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Here his grandmother is reading it to him as they listen to a CD of
"The Four Seasons." Every day he requests Vivaldi, both the book and the
music. I love his intent expression and his little fingers sticking out
from under the book. This child could grow up to be a musician, a
composer, the president, or anything else he wants to be! So much depends
on what he is exposed to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjCpXYZ5XDA9pFeDBLMdKvf6zRnv2lsvsH-pmA0r2iHq6pqbaRU66s5T96a7QvEvjbi7Bwim83EUNA8EFw14hJOsqSi2ODRx7Vips6SyztKB9qyGRIcmkaNDh82ggPqjxli6QueZdGufI/s1600/I%252C+Vivaldi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="947" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjCpXYZ5XDA9pFeDBLMdKvf6zRnv2lsvsH-pmA0r2iHq6pqbaRU66s5T96a7QvEvjbi7Bwim83EUNA8EFw14hJOsqSi2ODRx7Vips6SyztKB9qyGRIcmkaNDh82ggPqjxli6QueZdGufI/s320/I%252C+Vivaldi.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
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His grandmother said, "Liam truly loves <i>I, Vivaldi</i> and learns something new every time he hears the wonderful story and explores the bountiful illustrations. Now when he wakes up, he asks his Mom to turn on Vivaldi so he can listen to the music while she reads. He is transformed!"<br />
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Below is one of those "bountiful illustrations" of Venice, Vivaldi's home town. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK0aIrGi80QgVmQXwzJJtzXTbuiLIOXlRwJiNi_x3Q5-UlP5owpiyp1AJnSGGtYwQh-8dHDte6pcE0nJyRWbmJmry8i7NgSd9X4IKDNnIrOrgVlG0OYoX-dOkP6dqrpiwo1EdsBnuuGVr/s1600/Antonio+and+Papa+Arrive+at+San+Marco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="1050" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK0aIrGi80QgVmQXwzJJtzXTbuiLIOXlRwJiNi_x3Q5-UlP5owpiyp1AJnSGGtYwQh-8dHDte6pcE0nJyRWbmJmry8i7NgSd9X4IKDNnIrOrgVlG0OYoX-dOkP6dqrpiwo1EdsBnuuGVr/s400/Antonio+and+Papa+Arrive+at+San+Marco.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fellow children's authors and illustrators, this is why we give our best to what we do. Yes, we can change the world, child by child.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-4509671214338817562019-05-05T14:21:00.000-07:002019-05-10T14:27:06.024-07:00WIP or WIS?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Among writers and artists, the acronym WIP stands for Work in Progress. I'm adding a new one, WIS, Work in Stall. I don't mean writer's block, which I don't believe in, and therefore do not suffer from. I mean a time when I say to myself, "I can't do this." Sometimes the problem is with plotting, the most difficult part of the process for me. Even though I never start writing without an outline, occasionally the cause and effect cycle breaks down in the middle of the story. Sometimes the problem is about writing a sequel as if there is no prequel!<br />
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My current WIP,<i> Village Without Men,</i> is for the moment a WIS with both problems. Notice I said "for the moment." Every successful writer knows you don't stop working just because you can't do this. No, you persist until you overcome. Until "I can't do this" becomes "Oh yes I can," with a rush of confidence. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwoKW6SYtC_RIpkCFF3y0BkEbXf2x-NerA3yiXHWLJS7bfWMRgrBdUle6V5KHSv6TUlOvQt5zT2aEgT9NkmEUkUdorBrg8kfSJ1Qf_3X9CCGcV_ZzM6ZEalEThT_kO0bptKM2V8Axuhqo3/s1600/Sophie%2527s+War+Front+only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1140" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwoKW6SYtC_RIpkCFF3y0BkEbXf2x-NerA3yiXHWLJS7bfWMRgrBdUle6V5KHSv6TUlOvQt5zT2aEgT9NkmEUkUdorBrg8kfSJ1Qf_3X9CCGcV_ZzM6ZEalEThT_kO0bptKM2V8Axuhqo3/s320/Sophie%2527s+War+Front+only.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
<i>Village Without Men </i>is a sequel to my previously published <i>Sophie's War, </i>a Civil War story set in Comfort, Texas<i>. </i>Sophie is the daughter of German immigrants who settled in the Hill Country in the 1850s. Her father and many others in the area are Unionists in a state that has joined the Confederacy. Thus they are persecuted, men are hanged, cabins burned. But her father is especially endangered because he is the editorial cartoonist for a San Antonio newspaper and makes clear to all that he favors saving the Union. Sophie's goal and "war" is to convince her father to stop drawing anti Confederacy cartoons. To no avail.<br />
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Since a sequel must stand alone, I have to find a way to bring all that information forward without dumping it in the beginning. I have to sprinkle it throughout so as not to overwhelm the reader.<br />
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At present it is I who feels overwhelmed but not defeated! Please be patient while I figure out where to sprinkle information and how to gradually escalate cause and effect to the climax. It's not easy but it helps enormously to have a critique group with the likes of Cynthia Levinson and Shelley Jackson. And it's incredibly satisfying when done.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-85720019460363854172018-06-24T12:51:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:27:01.302-07:00The Rebirth of Young Wolf<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Yes, Tom's and my Young Wolf trilogy is soon to be born again. <span data-offset-key="2ck38-0-0"><span data-text="true">Originally published by Random House in their <i>Step Into Reading</i> series, the books will be republished by Eakin Press on August 1, 2018. Tom would be so happy. We both loved Young Wolf like a son.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="2ck38-0-0"><span data-text="true">When we wrote and illustrated the first one, <i>A Mare for Young Wolf, </i>we had no idea it would be a trilogy. Later it grew into a quadrilogy, and finally a pentalogy, thanks to Eakin Press. That's what happens when you fall in love with your characters, both humans and horses.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="2ck38-0-0"><span data-text="true">Here's something about all five Young Wolf books. They stand alone but are best read in this order: </span></span><br />
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Young Wolf chooses a mare, Red Wind, for his first horse. He thinks
she is the smartest, most beautiful horse in his father's herd.
But the village bully, Little Big Mouth, makes fun of him, because Comanches believed
mares were for women and children - not for warriors.<br />
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More than anything Young Wolf wants to be a man. He thinks killing
his first buffalo is the way. He begs his father to let him go
on the buffalo hunt, but as they start out, Young Wolf grows fearful
and wonders why he begged to come.<br />
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One night a wild stallion steals Red Wind away. Young Wolf
is determined to get her back even though his father says no man
can take a mare from a stallion. Young Wolf sets out to find her
and finds more than he is looking for! <br />
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Now for the fourth and fifth books, published earlier by Eakin Press:<br />
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Young Wolf wants to
win the horse race at the tribal fair. So does Little Big Mouth.
And that is how the trouble starts. Can Young Wolf's colt, Snow
Wind, run as fast as his father, the legendary wild white stallion?
Young Wolf thinks so. But Little Big Mouth knows a secret about
Snow Wind that could keep him from winning the race. Neither
boy can imagine what he will win and lose.<br />
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And finally <i>Comanche Song, </i>a story for older readers:<br />
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In 1840 Tsena (Wolf), son of a Comanche chief, goes with his father and other chiefs to a peace council with the Texans in San Antonio. The council turns violent, casting Tsena briefly into white man's world, but ultimately on a warpath of revenge that leads across Texas to the Great Water.<br />
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This historical novel tells the story of the Council House Massacre and the Battle of Plum Creek from a Comanche point of view for the first time.<br />
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These five books are Tom's and my effort to give readers a look inside another culture with empathy so that we can have peace on earth. </div>
Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-46485844973556575882018-04-08T11:50:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:27:20.112-07:00Connections Books Make, II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Researching, writing, and illustrating books make connections with people who would never connect otherwise. Our first picture book, <i>Victoria House, </i>is the story of a once elegant Victorian farmhouse that is eventually deserted and falls into disrepair. The cover shows her in the old days when she was lived in and loved.<br />
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The story idea came from the classic picture book, <i>The Little House </i>by Virginia Lee Burton. In this story a house is gradually surrounded by a city and finally moved back out to the country. As an architect and urban planner, Tom was always interested in revitalizing the central city, including our own Austin. And so we decided to reverse the idea of moving out to the country or suburbs.<br />
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Instead we moved Victoria into the "urbs" in the middle of the night.<br />
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While researching how a house is moved, we met Big Earl and his family who were house movers. We watched them take apart and move a house, the lower floor and upper floor each on a separate truck. When our book was published, they all came to our book signing at Toad Hall.<br />
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Now here she is, moved, reconstructed, and lived in and loved once more.<br />
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As a model for Victoria we chose a house in Navasota, Texas, that we happened to see on a trip to Huntsville. We stopped and knocked on the door. The house was being used for a writers retreat, so we were welcomed to look around and take photographs. A year or so later the house was bought by a Houston family, almost like the family in <i>Victoria House</i>. When they learned about the book, Tom and I were invited to visit, and we became good friends. Not only that, they hired Tom to do some remodeling of our model, a connection we never dreamed of.<br />
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Here Tom and I are standing in the gazebo.<br />
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Finally, one day we were driving through an inner city neighborhood in Austin and saw an old house that had just been planted in a vacant lot. Of course, we stopped and talked with the owner and gave him a copy of <i>Victoria House. </i><br />
He smiled. "I've already read your book. It's what made me decide to move this house."<br />
Oh, the power of books!<br />
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<i>Victoria House</i> is now out of print but we are hoping to bring it back in a new edition.<br />
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For more book connections see our blog for May 2010.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-66298114693073356902018-03-04T15:36:00.000-08:002019-05-11T18:22:02.516-07:00Girl Power<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Girl power is nothing new. Way back in 1703 Antonio Vivaldi was teaching girls in a Venetian orphanage to play every musical instrument, including the bassoon. The girls' orchestra became famous all over Europe. You can read about Vivaldi and these girls who were ahead of their time in this book.<br />
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Since they were orphans, many of the girls had no last names, so they were given the name of the instrument each one played, such as Catarina of the Viola or Bettina of the Bassoon. Here they are.<br />
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Tom's illustrations are true to Venice. We made several research trips and stayed in a palazzo in the square where Antonio grew up. Tom took photos, sketched, and did some plein air painting.<br />
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Kirkus Reviews said: "Giving even Canaletto a run for his money, the illustrator sets expressive, natural-looking figures against golden-toned backdrops of 17th-century Venice's rich interiors, splendid vistas, opulent churches and serene canals . . . (A) fetching introduction to one of the great masters of the Baroque era."<br />
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By the time we finished this book I had fallen in love with Vivaldi and these orphan girls, so I wrote another book about one of them, Anna Maria.<br />
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Her father made a violin for her before he died. When she plays it, she hears his voice. At the orphanage she quickly becomes Vivaldi's favorite student, making Paolina, one of the other girls, jealous. One night she steals Anna Maria's violin and throws it into a canal. Can Anna Maria ever get it back? Read this book and find out.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-37642070550476469052017-08-06T11:41:00.001-07:002019-05-05T14:27:44.949-07:00Love and Loss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: There is a price to pay for great love, and that is great loss. My soulmate, my husband, my book partner, and the father of our two sons, Karl and Daniel, passed away last Christmas. Tom and I were like one and now I am one-half. The only respite comes from the love of my family, close friends, and my work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRhTOI2jLS3R3d1VvpO_m5Mt1EJsYhdBdJIqTkpxnuiz5dbmcLYxiIJtdEalrEe-rFE6Cw1B5-7lT5Q5zwU4pyp2TaUq35rp5iD2oo7r4wZVx0of2zvxFU_O3L897d5yey0E1OJzL3i1x/s1600/Tom+Favorite+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRhTOI2jLS3R3d1VvpO_m5Mt1EJsYhdBdJIqTkpxnuiz5dbmcLYxiIJtdEalrEe-rFE6Cw1B5-7lT5Q5zwU4pyp2TaUq35rp5iD2oo7r4wZVx0of2zvxFU_O3L897d5yey0E1OJzL3i1x/s320/Tom+Favorite+Photo.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqsE18OeQWsP3sxWLnyzM2ZTyymEeGCwow5i4oS7xgMXzgU1mXHeYw-CzOw3Ea9Kwg74kztYV3x5-rRshI6YPiJjZ8FDOycVpYECZKCwsov23DdputPT6OjOb6vUQKilf5d2Nbg6lpxrr/s1600/OurWorld.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1600" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqsE18OeQWsP3sxWLnyzM2ZTyymEeGCwow5i4oS7xgMXzgU1mXHeYw-CzOw3Ea9Kwg74kztYV3x5-rRshI6YPiJjZ8FDOycVpYECZKCwsov23DdputPT6OjOb6vUQKilf5d2Nbg6lpxrr/s400/OurWorld.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Home</td></tr>
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Tom gave his artistic talent, his strength, his humor, his gentle manliness to our sons. They say he was their first and best teacher. He also left a legacy of his award winning architectural designs -
churches, libraries, schools, and homes, including ours. And he left
illustrated children's books and watercolor paintings of scenes from
all over the world. Thus he achieved immortality.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgelDd7KfLGugNjRpYAc-aXftSliAxOLfuo02LCfIQhQq3C_2f-mt-uFwDMmgneFlIOELDa9WqELazXzCGcp-VweiNlHg2MbIBZYE3Aj-DLVwDMjXU49hcljHqhQG0NYGyvE0fGCoQRXR/s1600/bnight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="195" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgelDd7KfLGugNjRpYAc-aXftSliAxOLfuo02LCfIQhQq3C_2f-mt-uFwDMmgneFlIOELDa9WqELazXzCGcp-VweiNlHg2MbIBZYE3Aj-DLVwDMjXU49hcljHqhQG0NYGyvE0fGCoQRXR/s320/bnight.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bethany United Methodist Church</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Edge: Santorini</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Illustration from <i>I, Vivaldi</i></td></tr>
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We met in Aspen, Colorado, during the Christmas holidays of 1953. After
our courtship and marriage we set out on a yearlong trip around the
world. Along the way Tom sketched and painted what he saw. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jaipur, India</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Tom always made birthday cards for me, all of which I have saved. Here is one of his most recent, and it breaks my heart. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsC1OKXIZ76E5haS5ALuAIO6m4nIdSJyxLMZ5GihEHmvMei0jM2ts7BjZBoz8sNhGjsWsoyLWtUo57G9bin2VjXDQvJLBZhzGiyxg0b5-a52CDQhRgGEUSXKltIfLtTqsa0E8EqJRWEnN0/s1600/May+I+always+sit+by+your+side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1215" data-original-width="1600" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsC1OKXIZ76E5haS5ALuAIO6m4nIdSJyxLMZ5GihEHmvMei0jM2ts7BjZBoz8sNhGjsWsoyLWtUo57G9bin2VjXDQvJLBZhzGiyxg0b5-a52CDQhRgGEUSXKltIfLtTqsa0E8EqJRWEnN0/s400/May+I+always+sit+by+your+side.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Inside he wrote:<br />
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Dear Janice,<br />
Queen of my life!<br />
May I forever sit beside you!<br />
Love,<br />
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Yes, Tom, you will forever sit beside me.<br />
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I know Tom wants me to go on writing books for children and young adults, and I'm doing so for both him and me. The current work in progress is a historical novel set in ancient Egypt, called <i>I, Nefertiti. </i>I never write about a place I have not seen and experienced. My second trip there was with Tom. In the presence of the pyramids we stood and marveled at their sheer size that dwarfs the humans flocking around, and at the ingenuity of their builders. As Tom said, "I feel privileged to stand here. The reality is worth a thousand pictures."<br />
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I feel privileged to love this man. The reality is worth a thousand teardrops. <br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-57062311090326068502016-06-21T14:20:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:28:31.236-07:00Why Not Historical Fiction?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: There are writers who can create fantasy and contemporary fiction but I am not one of them. As for fantasy, I don't read it so how can I write it? Contemporary fiction is beyond my abilities because I don't understand the present! My passion is reading and writing historical fiction. I love to bring the past alive. So much research of the past exists in libraries, online, and onsite that helps me understand the times and gives me ideas for story.<br />
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The problem is that historical fiction is not as popular today as fantasy and contemporary fiction. There is little market for the genre so publishers are not publishing it. My question is why? Is historical fiction not a form of fantasy? It brings the past alive with characters that a young reader can relate to? What better way to learn history than through a well-researched novel like the following:<br />
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<i>Johnny Tremain </i>by Esther Forbes, about a young apprentice silversmith during the American revolution who becomes involved with the Sons of Liberty.<br />
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<i>The Bronze Bow </i>by Elizabeth George Speare, that tells of a young Israeli boy who revolts against the Roman occupation.<br />
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<i>Wolf by the Ears </i>by Ann Rinaldi, the story of an unacknowledged daughter of Thomas Jefferson and his house slave, Sally Hemings.<br />
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<i>Cleopatra's Moon </i>by Vicky Alvear Shecter, the story of Cleopatra's daughter who is taken to Rome when Egypt is conquered.<br />
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<i>Comanche Song </i>by Janice Shefelman, that tells about the clash between the Comanches and the Texans from the viewpoint of the son of a Comanche peace chief.<br />
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<i>The Eagle of the Ninth </i>by Rosemary Sutcliff, the story of a young Roman centurion in Britain whose cause is to discover what happened to his father's Ninth Legion when they marched north and never returned.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-17444239273679675042015-12-25T14:34:00.000-08:002019-05-08T14:12:01.320-07:00"Our World" and Others<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: For Christmas Tom gave me his painting called, "Our World." In amazing detail it shows our living and dining room with many paintings and drawings by Tom, our sons Karl and Daniel, Tom's mother, a needlepoint tapestry by me of our sons' childhood drawings, and family photographs on our dining table shrine. This is our magical tree house.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmugj2EdHP3zV4EP0nqCnx-NhmAKGW1rz8tAYO8Izn9lOJrX6PMlHwJ1RS5hUVzHo9i3T1zJKf0PaRxX3eGchI6vrtnSxLWDE0Hbdn2vD4vYlld5cRT0lrbNykb9VQ2GOEE0M2buJevZw-/s1600/Our+World.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmugj2EdHP3zV4EP0nqCnx-NhmAKGW1rz8tAYO8Izn9lOJrX6PMlHwJ1RS5hUVzHo9i3T1zJKf0PaRxX3eGchI6vrtnSxLWDE0Hbdn2vD4vYlld5cRT0lrbNykb9VQ2GOEE0M2buJevZw-/s400/Our+World.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You will find this same meticulous detail in Tom's illustrations such as this one from <i>I, Vivaldi, </i>showing young Antonio and his papa entering the Basilica San Marco in Venice, their world. Can you find them? Hint: They both have red hair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-RZHiGqKPNieScucsyYSsJymOR_D3ObsuSkDZ9m6Qd5JFtex1-CrFecEywSvO1bGSLVj-Ym6BADrrAFhzjs0GAIyz5MDZ3QjLuTlc-P_jWRAFhNjuXZKLpQR_6KCHEQ0aPHuJgUKu1_I/s1600/Antonio+and+Papa+Arrive+at+San+Marco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-RZHiGqKPNieScucsyYSsJymOR_D3ObsuSkDZ9m6Qd5JFtex1-CrFecEywSvO1bGSLVj-Ym6BADrrAFhzjs0GAIyz5MDZ3QjLuTlc-P_jWRAFhNjuXZKLpQR_6KCHEQ0aPHuJgUKu1_I/s400/Antonio+and+Papa+Arrive+at+San+Marco.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Also this illustration from <i>A Peddler's Dream </i>that shows young Solomon Joseph Azar, a peddler from Lebanon, arriving in Austin, Texas, where he will make his dream of having a store of his own come true and make Congress Avenue his world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0awx0oLS5F5j_-NsF831rFRJlpsTCc25gIwM-nJuNAPhyphenhyphen4e05JMbcOqPJF9n4Y6l2ySZDgA2WLWZHzZYhWyTkS-pJFCuyJ3Xhj7WdIPWjNLWJJ08k8aJxxwE6dpJDy5XTwlaATA5cfJQK/s1600/Peddler%2527s+Dream%252C+Congress+Ave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0awx0oLS5F5j_-NsF831rFRJlpsTCc25gIwM-nJuNAPhyphenhyphen4e05JMbcOqPJF9n4Y6l2ySZDgA2WLWZHzZYhWyTkS-pJFCuyJ3Xhj7WdIPWjNLWJJ08k8aJxxwE6dpJDy5XTwlaATA5cfJQK/s400/Peddler%2527s+Dream%252C+Congress+Ave.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-65713718647693165272015-03-05T11:32:00.000-08:002019-05-05T14:28:41.466-07:00A Moment of Grief<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Once I did an author visit with fourth graders to talk about <i>A Paradise Called Texas, </i>the story of my German ancestors' immigration to Texas in 1845,<i> </i>which they had all read. Afterward the teacher told me that one of her students had just lost his father and took great comfort in reading how life went on for Mina, the main character, after her mother died.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover art by Karl Shefelman</td></tr>
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Later I received a letter from that student. Here, in part, is what he wrote:<br />
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Dear <i>Frau </i>Shefelman,<br />
I want to be a poet. Did you start out as a poet?<br />
Have you ever had a moment of grief in your life? I have.<br />
Sincerely,<br />
Marshal<br />
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I was stunned. A moment of grief?! I have always been amazed at how young readers relish the sad parts of books. But now I understand that they are practicing life by reading about others. That is why children's literature is so important. We all need practice. So I wrote back:<br />
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Dear Marshal,<br />
No, I did not start out as a poet, but that could be your way. And<br />
yes, I have had a moment of grief. No one escapes such a moment. It is what makes us thoughtful human beings and even poets.<br />
Your book friend,<br />
Janice Shefelman<br />
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Looking back on my other books I see that many of my characters have had a moment of grief. In <i>Anna Maria's Gift,</i> her father dies, leaving a violin he made for her that seems to hold his voice. When she loses the violin, it is as if she loses her father again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzU1vCDIhmjc4pw5uPAZ7zSGiL4qSPJmwFG6xVKjxegApsiDOBVMZ9WUC6cLqjH3tpgvamVWE8QICROBdWy2tY2Y5UPxh0mDwz5QDuk8R3wJTUc5C8zj2RcXHVPxHz5K0e49DTc6szZNp_/s1600/Anna+Maria's%2BGift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzU1vCDIhmjc4pw5uPAZ7zSGiL4qSPJmwFG6xVKjxegApsiDOBVMZ9WUC6cLqjH3tpgvamVWE8QICROBdWy2tY2Y5UPxh0mDwz5QDuk8R3wJTUc5C8zj2RcXHVPxHz5K0e49DTc6szZNp_/s1600/Anna+Maria's%2BGift.jpg" width="131" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover art by Robert Papp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNKYyiecJO6EFU1eHmO_I198nb7e9ciOXpv6LI0K966fbPPfuFtso_gWv4d4UYp3neo8q7k-Rpt2YxBqyouILnwuNZ9JDOPoe7ee5gKYv45zWPCWlYaDklZn2GtXVzkFmTaCdTqT2SM-r/s1600/Young+Wolf+and+Spirit+Horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNKYyiecJO6EFU1eHmO_I198nb7e9ciOXpv6LI0K966fbPPfuFtso_gWv4d4UYp3neo8q7k-Rpt2YxBqyouILnwuNZ9JDOPoe7ee5gKYv45zWPCWlYaDklZn2GtXVzkFmTaCdTqT2SM-r/s1600/Young+Wolf+and+Spirit+Horse.jpg" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover art by Tom Shefelman</td></tr>
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In <i>Young Wolf and Spirit Horse, </i>his beloved mare is stolen and Young Wolf's grief sends him off on a quest.<br />
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In <i>Sophie's War, </i>her father must join up to fight in the Civil War. When she learns of a massacre on the Nueces River, she fears that he is dead and makes a dangerous journey to find his body.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N5U71wtV2pRjLoNaEaqq5AO2CJJ22fPcAIk7TVuYIQ-dogBSpK51dnLirY2f4TkoeBb3bXzqhRDZTB36BpXyOlqPVqW4GhbVMfyfqEpAcD9bszIHt6lBgMPfmzkJ0dJjS249WtGBb8Rq/s1600/Sophie's%2BWar%2BFront%2Bonly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N5U71wtV2pRjLoNaEaqq5AO2CJJ22fPcAIk7TVuYIQ-dogBSpK51dnLirY2f4TkoeBb3bXzqhRDZTB36BpXyOlqPVqW4GhbVMfyfqEpAcD9bszIHt6lBgMPfmzkJ0dJjS249WtGBb8Rq/s1600/Sophie's%2BWar%2BFront%2Bonly.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover art by Tom Shefelman</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1vfZmgwlXQZUOQhvlpi3koTUpdN5BnF4ZEVqX6w3dNLe8nGFbOgH8I4R1keKn1c4LU5_gDPA7ENKpnttjCYScVrM53JntqTzDYLrtKOrIptpW_5bkihwMHpbww4-0oKPEi9rsh6wh8yk/s1600/Comanche+Song.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1vfZmgwlXQZUOQhvlpi3koTUpdN5BnF4ZEVqX6w3dNLe8nGFbOgH8I4R1keKn1c4LU5_gDPA7ENKpnttjCYScVrM53JntqTzDYLrtKOrIptpW_5bkihwMHpbww4-0oKPEi9rsh6wh8yk/s1600/Comanche+Song.jpg" width="131" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover art by Tom Shefelman</td></tr>
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And finally in <i>Comanche Song, </i>Tsena's father, the peace chief, is killed in the Council House Massacre along with many others. Tsena joins his tribe in seeking revenge.<br />
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Never underestimate the depth of thought of which children are capable.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-38971938933962730832014-07-16T18:24:00.003-07:002019-05-05T14:28:51.044-07:00Every Author's Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Here is Hazel who is ten years old and a "great reader," according to her grandmother who keeps her supplied with books, including two of mine. She is also being a good model for her cousin, Athena (a name to live up to).<br />
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Hazel is the kind of reader every author dreams of - intent and absorbed in the story. Look closely and you can see she is reading <i>Anna Maria's Gift, </i>my latest chapter book. Notice how lovingly she holds it. She even looks like the girl on the cover. Hopefully as she reads, Hazel will <i>become</i> Anna Maria.<br />
Behind her on the couch is another book, <i>Sophie's War, </i>a historical novel set in Comfort, Texas, during the Civil War.<br />
Thank you for being a great reader, Hazel. Now I can go back to work on a first draft of <i>I, Nefertiti </i>with renewed vigor.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVOB37kWiqTc439zSAvxugREBMq-UsU3milqVb5PIsj91EC1C2iEkLa01LrZX-e5WcKHA8Do8wPkg1FAgOTgSieRiqBCcv_O4du7DRA4jM7O23q-Q4qFgg8kf-rphrgZfv8N61q1JOg2H/s1600/Sophie's+War+Front+only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVOB37kWiqTc439zSAvxugREBMq-UsU3milqVb5PIsj91EC1C2iEkLa01LrZX-e5WcKHA8Do8wPkg1FAgOTgSieRiqBCcv_O4du7DRA4jM7O23q-Q4qFgg8kf-rphrgZfv8N61q1JOg2H/s1600/Sophie's+War+Front+only.jpg" width="142" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_eOwpqASEKoKmXDqHJY2W16xKQlL5okNYjdcSa0kkhhww2ihH_HXZlnnyHMHOnfej_0g3dj4vQUGiTqv-tKu_EBRANUXRjABB_ksTWqMUREFF1Yahyphenhyphenb2HA_N2cenVCu4jRJeogfLZV7e/s1600/Anna+Maria's+Gift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_eOwpqASEKoKmXDqHJY2W16xKQlL5okNYjdcSa0kkhhww2ihH_HXZlnnyHMHOnfej_0g3dj4vQUGiTqv-tKu_EBRANUXRjABB_ksTWqMUREFF1Yahyphenhyphenb2HA_N2cenVCu4jRJeogfLZV7e/s1600/Anna+Maria's+Gift.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6jfc6DViGQlLqz0QM_jxTgmCmqDjeDecgQc1UjyGWeqZQXVLIZNQ9bBF1jbBDORgiWWTKn20p1bJSlrP7zn1D92a8_5JQ6cdTOjAfbyqoL4dMP9kEoPxrLu2YxZ8mvcfahsLYCG-64qW/s1600/220px-MainStreetNovel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6jfc6DViGQlLqz0QM_jxTgmCmqDjeDecgQc1UjyGWeqZQXVLIZNQ9bBF1jbBDORgiWWTKn20p1bJSlrP7zn1D92a8_5JQ6cdTOjAfbyqoL4dMP9kEoPxrLu2YxZ8mvcfahsLYCG-64qW/s1600/220px-MainStreetNovel.jpg" width="133" /></a>My author-reader story is quite different from an experience Sinclair Lewis had after publishing <i>Main Street </i>back in the 1920s. He was crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Elizabeth for a vacation in Europe. As he strolled the deck, Lewis spied a woman sitting in a deck chair, reading his latest book. Excitedly he hid behind a post to watch her reaction. Suddenly she slammed it shut, stepped over to the rail, and tossed it into the ocean! Every author's nightmare.</div>
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As for Hazel, not only is she a reader, she wants to be a writer. And she doesn't just <i>want</i> to be, she <i>is </i>a writer. This summer she is attending a summer writing camp and already submitting her work for publication!</div>
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Next comes acceptance or rejection. Acceptance is glorious, but rejection can be good, too. To find out how, read my blog, "Good and Bad Rejections," posted on June 27, 2010.</div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-58508744910538645392014-04-24T17:35:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:29:22.375-07:00A Cheetah Named Halima<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Meet Halima, my new writing partner. I needed a model for a character in my historical novel-in-progress and found Halima at our Whole Foods store. She was sitting on a top shelf, watching everyone that passed by. I stopped. "It's Halima!" I said to Tom. "And it's your birthday," he said. She leaped down, with the help of an employee, and into our grocery cart. As we wheeled her across the parking lot, Halima attracted a lot of attention and photos. Now she sits beside me at my desk.<br />
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She may not be alive but she is a real presence, with her keen golden eyes. Bringing her alive is my job. Her ears perk when I talk to her, and I can hear her loud purr as I stroke her soft furry head and neck. Sometimes she chirps to call me to my desk. If I don't come she growls. Look at the black "tear marks" that run from the corners of her eyes down the sides of her nose to her mouth. These marks keep sunlight out of her eyes so she can see long distances when she hunts. Halima can run up to 75 miles an hour for a short time to catch her prey. Otherwise, she is content to sit by my side and watch.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-7280185720895167402014-02-20T18:52:00.000-08:002019-05-05T14:29:33.101-07:00Esprit d'Escalier<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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JANICE: French for Wit from the Staircase: Meaning, as you leave the party in a friend's apartment and start downstairs, you think of the perfect answer to someone's remark, too late to say it. Which is one reason I write books. It gives me time to think of what my characters need to say.<br />
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I remember working on A MARE FOR YOUNG WOLF at our dining room table (before I had a real studio). Young Wolf has just been thrown off his horse in front of two other boys. What does he say or do? He's angry and humiliated. Maybe he curses, I thought. But what words? Suddenly they came. "Oh, buffalo chips!" I had a good laugh. As did my editor at Random House, Mallory Loehr, and her colleagues.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPhpjVKSkG-0W4P2gqNGrjnXgnCIaK1zdoAtrW38Xaz7zKlKHgjXdp2HTR3ClNBDcsAaEdJS4vcVGwXKbL427ziyEYmXFBBPJFTh4tDKLHb5X7cHK1Ba7W-vazSRfZd_6X8ItkziaB6rT/s1600/Peddlers+Dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPhpjVKSkG-0W4P2gqNGrjnXgnCIaK1zdoAtrW38Xaz7zKlKHgjXdp2HTR3ClNBDcsAaEdJS4vcVGwXKbL427ziyEYmXFBBPJFTh4tDKLHb5X7cHK1Ba7W-vazSRfZd_6X8ItkziaB6rT/s1600/Peddlers+Dream.jpg" width="159" /></a><br />
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At the end of A PEDDLER'S DREAM when Solomon, a peddler, finally realizes his dream of having an elegant store of his own, he and his beloved Marie host an opening party. When the musicians begin to play, Solomon takes Marie's hand and asks if she will dance with an old peddler whose dream has come true.<br />
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What meaningful words could she say? What was this story about? I asked myself. It's about a dream, making a dream come true. I put myself in her place, looked up at Solomon's expectant face, and my answer came. "A peddler with a dream is <i>more </i>than a peddler."</div>
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They danced and so did we.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solomon and Marie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXacrfP9QOgLdjp_aUR6IgrSDGokMBmOHHvvwH1mttcOveAeRg4jC3c5BjqYZCGXw80mXxzMCGmACl8vTER7ejMdWXje7Vt4vcGwk9MSd8SB5xIPanO-qsl9XvxIGM1TtfV86-MHG5Fr-Q/s1600/Dancing+with+Tom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXacrfP9QOgLdjp_aUR6IgrSDGokMBmOHHvvwH1mttcOveAeRg4jC3c5BjqYZCGXw80mXxzMCGmACl8vTER7ejMdWXje7Vt4vcGwk9MSd8SB5xIPanO-qsl9XvxIGM1TtfV86-MHG5Fr-Q/s1600/Dancing+with+Tom.jpg" width="138" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janice and Tom<br />
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Now for COMANCHE SONG, my historical novel set in the Hill Country of Texas in 1840. This is the story of a Comanche boy, son and grandson of peace chiefs. </div>
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We are in a council meeting where the tribal leaders are discussing how to deal with white man's invasion. After the peace chief has proposed establishing a line between them and making peace, the war chief says, "The <i>tejanos </i>will stop at no such line. The only way to show them the land is ours is to kill any man who steps upon it!"</div>
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It is Grandfather who replies: "We have a saying among our people that the brave die young. But I say, the wise grow old." The corner of his mouth twitched, and he paused. "When the young stop listening to the elders, they run blindly like buffalo and follow one another over the cliff to die."</div>
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I love it.</div>
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And finally some words from SOPHIE'S WAR, another historical novel set in the Hill Country, this one during the Civil War. Sophie is the daughter of German immigrants, many of whom were Unionists in a state that had seceded from the Union. They were called traitors and persecuted by Confederate ruffians who burned their cabins and hanged their men. Sophie's father is an editorial cartoonist who expresses his Unionist views and thus is in danger. Sophie must find a way to save her family.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcnPSLJfewVmXulWtMvp9BgwOpFDOdksPv5TLl7BTsomDhJeUYc7siFdDydcTj6wT8Ysgai4OBM09Z0wpNyxjR28Hh1MXbTsBu5ax2M305zp4pJUcBrNmC1ljHTHNT1Lc9L6CbRTZFPaa/s1600/Sophie's+War+Front+only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcnPSLJfewVmXulWtMvp9BgwOpFDOdksPv5TLl7BTsomDhJeUYc7siFdDydcTj6wT8Ysgai4OBM09Z0wpNyxjR28Hh1MXbTsBu5ax2M305zp4pJUcBrNmC1ljHTHNT1Lc9L6CbRTZFPaa/s1600/Sophie's+War+Front+only.jpg" width="142" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcnPSLJfewVmXulWtMvp9BgwOpFDOdksPv5TLl7BTsomDhJeUYc7siFdDydcTj6wT8Ysgai4OBM09Z0wpNyxjR28Hh1MXbTsBu5ax2M305zp4pJUcBrNmC1ljHTHNT1Lc9L6CbRTZFPaa/s1600/Sophie's+War+Front+only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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She comes home from school one day and finds Papa at work on a cartoon about the death of Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston in a battle with Unionists. Boldly she grabs the cartoon from his drawing board and tears it in two, saying he can't send it to the newspaper. </div>
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"I'm afraid the Vigilance Committee will come after you."</div>
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Papa laid down his pen and stood. "I have been patient with your fears, Sophie, but this is going too far." He reached out his hand. "Now, give it back"</div>
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I shook my head.</div>
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What can Papa say? He brought his family to Texas so they would be free to speak their minds. After pondering, I thought of his reply. And it involved William Tell.</div>
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"Sophie, do you want to let the Vigilance Committee rule the world? If so, go ahead, tear the cartoon into a thousand little pieces, and I'll cower at their feet. Is that what you want - a coward for a father?"</div>
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I shook my head. Oh, what did I want?</div>
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"Do you think I'm not afraid too?" Papa asked.</div>
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"I don't know, Papa. Aren't you like William Tell?"</div>
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"I try to be, but he was afraid when he was forced to shoot an apple from his son's head. Remember how his arm trembled?"</div>
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"I remember."</div>
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"But he did what he had to do. And I will do no less, even if I have to draw the cartoon again. In times like these we all have to do what we are afraid to do."</div>
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He did and so did Sophie.</div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-7215706416623000062013-10-21T15:04:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:29:46.701-07:00I, Papa Haydn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Tom's illustrations for our picture book biography, <i>I, Papa Haydn,</i> are now finished and sent to the publisher in Seoul. Since it will be published in Korean, you may never see the cover with an English title like this one — but you might. Hopefully an American publisher will buy the foreign rights because we need to keep up with those Koreans!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss5KhVzv1naf6tJQuoutPPQ_MeUmEa1yBW_JYmvOcVJylrtMbMbljPppZHxHGkGDlZggvQiCYg8e1AK-n7XcyS6s7JX4RuECbP2UCwSF5kIpsV1riNBvrp1HD_w2lmYWgWZN3LvGVaOxV/s1600/Haydn+Front+Cover-A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss5KhVzv1naf6tJQuoutPPQ_MeUmEa1yBW_JYmvOcVJylrtMbMbljPppZHxHGkGDlZggvQiCYg8e1AK-n7XcyS6s7JX4RuECbP2UCwSF5kIpsV1riNBvrp1HD_w2lmYWgWZN3LvGVaOxV/s320/Haydn+Front+Cover-A.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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And here is the full wraparound cover painting. It shows Haydn performing for his patron, Prince Esterhazy, at his summer palace in Hungary. We visited this palace on a cold winter's day and found it closed. If you want to know how we managed to get in, see "Research Adventure," posted here on January 24, 2010. Tom took photographs of the Music Salon where Haydn and his orchestra performed for the prince, his family, and friends.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BSXJ78Xp0RmsaQMHtZD1bel1CWL3WaOcXGZbrwZG7KxH5Pf1wAZYw_RIGS7EB9-n7o4cJK4VEf8wX5EUOwltcVMQ5IkjT515G41hR-GdAVOyXdxcp0yTpL2NS7eNrFkpbRaobVJkOuU6/s1600/Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BSXJ78Xp0RmsaQMHtZD1bel1CWL3WaOcXGZbrwZG7KxH5Pf1wAZYw_RIGS7EB9-n7o4cJK4VEf8wX5EUOwltcVMQ5IkjT515G41hR-GdAVOyXdxcp0yTpL2NS7eNrFkpbRaobVJkOuU6/s400/Cover.jpg" width="400" /></a>The illustration below shows Papa Haydn and his orchestra performing the "Farewell Symphony" in the Music Salon. One year Prince Esterhazy stayed so long in his palace that summer turned into fall. The musicians, who were not allowed to bring their families, were anxious to return home to Vienna. One of them asked "Papa" Haydn to tell the Prince it was time to go back. Haydn said, "A servant does not tell his prince what to do. But maybe I can think of a way to hint." And he did — with music.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBLUnva93HpCSrAtFmTThGK6ve8cD9EpxHk3WNe_nLib3sDT5UlNncaC0pFo7xS39E7VKio38MHiuQL7LSe1a0BpAXE8hduVd9HXZDunc_QwXRE3QSsSdkHUd53xqgAZTPU0yetDGItDi/s1600/28(new)-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBLUnva93HpCSrAtFmTThGK6ve8cD9EpxHk3WNe_nLib3sDT5UlNncaC0pFo7xS39E7VKio38MHiuQL7LSe1a0BpAXE8hduVd9HXZDunc_QwXRE3QSsSdkHUd53xqgAZTPU0yetDGItDi/s400/28(new)-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
He composed the "Farewell Symphony," and the orchestra performed it. One by one each musician's part ended. He blew out his candle, tucked his instrument under his arm and walked out. You can see the man carrying his cello out of the salon to the right, while Prince Esterhazy and his wife look at each other, wondering what is happening. Finally only Haydn was left at the piano and the symphony ended. Prince Esterhazy understood, and the next day they left for Vienna.</div>
Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-39044441275873177702013-09-20T20:12:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:30:00.346-07:00Becoming an Architect and Artist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
TOM: One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor, watching my mother paint in oils. She was inspired by scenes of Venice by William Turner, and here is one of the results.<br />
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Growing up in Seattle's rainy climate, I had plenty of time indoors to draw, paint, and cartoon for my school newspaper. I was always drawing, sometimes in class when I was not supposed to. One of my favorite subjects was horses.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXh7OF1tuzg8IQhp2jXNhuvPrBNMGy0e14Z6Wt-djrpvuoqbZ8-Q578IN2Y6Ft4-Ab0CuonOTWNrmJ0bcT5NWgDPbwmiW5UoaYLI3h1QKL9WWKHxsKLFXTDH1YofQxeYxdDb0kMIhP_p7/s1600/Tom's+Horse+Drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXh7OF1tuzg8IQhp2jXNhuvPrBNMGy0e14Z6Wt-djrpvuoqbZ8-Q578IN2Y6Ft4-Ab0CuonOTWNrmJ0bcT5NWgDPbwmiW5UoaYLI3h1QKL9WWKHxsKLFXTDH1YofQxeYxdDb0kMIhP_p7/s320/Tom's+Horse+Drawing.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Fortunately I had a very wise teacher in the fourth grade, Miss Pearl. She once sent me out in the hall, not as punishment but to paint a Thanksgiving mural. Drawing became my ticket to social acceptance and good grades, especially when encouraged to illustrate my reports. I got an "A" on a report about Marco Polo for which I made a cover illustration of him standing at the bow of a ship, his hand shading his eyes as he looked forward to his great adventure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2chnjoK44-29oYBGZmRXrVx1wqoDRuC7iZP55Dq02SNdiRjNSWPlFr4_6x7Guj5CVV9wkTzdH7_QdXYpYCR5L0lXRkwrVFN_Z6TGmFydHNdR6Hvjm7Dpg7KgBSKg-ir9f0Cm26DtjYMzv/s1600/Temple+of+Karnak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2chnjoK44-29oYBGZmRXrVx1wqoDRuC7iZP55Dq02SNdiRjNSWPlFr4_6x7Guj5CVV9wkTzdH7_QdXYpYCR5L0lXRkwrVFN_Z6TGmFydHNdR6Hvjm7Dpg7KgBSKg-ir9f0Cm26DtjYMzv/s320/Temple+of+Karnak.jpg" width="240" /></a>Our home was blessed with a library of beautifully illustrated editions of the classics such as <i>The Boy's King Arthur, </i>illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. I knew the stories through the pictures before I read them.<br />
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On my ninth birthday I received a set of <i>Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia. </i>I remember opening one of the volumes to a picture of the Temple of Karnak on the Nile River and marveling at the mighty columns that dwarfed the man standing between them. Then on Career Day in high school an architect showed his drawings of beautiful buildings, and I, still dreaming of the Temple of Karnak, decided to use my artistic talent to become an architect. My attorney father was relieved that I would not become a "starving artist." As it turned out, I am now both.<br />
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During my travels here and abroad I have never been without sketchpad and painting tools. When Janice and I married, we took a year-long honeymoon trip around the world via freighters. I sketched and painted the whole time. Here I am relating to the Meows, a tribe living in the mountains near Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. They did not want their photograph taken, but delighted in my sketches of them - so much so that Janice managed to snap one quick photo. Many of these drawings are included in Janice's travel memoir, <i> Honeymoon Hobos.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAAOC4cIE5olq2fLMD-0-MxIhz23mNXZy2loTFonidhNTIEf4yWGm6MszwpavjA8gX84lQoa9TebLfc2SaHkAQplWh97GdXk9G3BKB1xH71l7Ww3vhBkkZwSqnbuZVZc9xz3iKMMOaqmV/s1600/Tom+Honeymoon+Hobos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAAOC4cIE5olq2fLMD-0-MxIhz23mNXZy2loTFonidhNTIEf4yWGm6MszwpavjA8gX84lQoa9TebLfc2SaHkAQplWh97GdXk9G3BKB1xH71l7Ww3vhBkkZwSqnbuZVZc9xz3iKMMOaqmV/s320/Tom+Honeymoon+Hobos.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We continued this writer-illustrator collaboration in children's books. While not working on a book, I paint scenes that inspire me, such as "Capitol Guardians." I was overwhelmed by the view from the Congress Avenue bridge of our graceful old Texas capitol "guarded" by such powerful new structures.<br />
Since I could not set up an easel in the middle of the Congress Avenue bridge, I took photos when the traffic let up. Back in my studio I made a small pencil sketch, a few color studies, then had the sketch enlarged to full size, transferred it to watercolor paper, and painted. Whew!<br />
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Occasionally I do plein aire painting from start to finish, especially in Venice, as you can see in this photo. That way I'm not a tourist - I'm part of the scene.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-32588973430156070402013-07-11T10:11:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:30:17.518-07:00Little Free Library<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0dydZGa5TNiKo9tIIiqmXPJN_vz0QvcDEJ8LcdQe9Q-yMvasTSKC1X0sT-sCroZXcO0yeYPw53PSLOCtTdPlCCdt3t8nWxG2jN8COt92ZROcgicwp_l2RFRLbiuNL5isL45cbJCKgnMM/s1600/Pic_0710_035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0dydZGa5TNiKo9tIIiqmXPJN_vz0QvcDEJ8LcdQe9Q-yMvasTSKC1X0sT-sCroZXcO0yeYPw53PSLOCtTdPlCCdt3t8nWxG2jN8COt92ZROcgicwp_l2RFRLbiuNL5isL45cbJCKgnMM/s320/Pic_0710_035.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
JANICE: On my early morning walks in our neighborhood I had long admired a fancy mailbox across the street at curbside. It looked like a miniature wooden house with a glass door, brown walls, and green polka dots. Since I assumed it was private, I had not taken a closer look. But one day curiosity lured me across the street, and I discovered that above the door was written, Little Free Library! And through the glass I saw books! The door had a flowered porcelain doorknob so I opened it and found a whole world. "Take a book, return a book," a sign said.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfG08NTHfwVtC338V5ZSlsJvP6uxO6rTJ-EVP17ofxPPv2kCzVFSRrQ48Jb0qZkn5f4YRi8zlq7-zi3O4Pbub88kXS7EUU-JOjlLpNXQhjFtYFUpD1OkoNeRCBAyoX6PO1TmA-L5iAopr/s1600/Otto+of+the+Silver+Hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfG08NTHfwVtC338V5ZSlsJvP6uxO6rTJ-EVP17ofxPPv2kCzVFSRrQ48Jb0qZkn5f4YRi8zlq7-zi3O4Pbub88kXS7EUU-JOjlLpNXQhjFtYFUpD1OkoNeRCBAyoX6PO1TmA-L5iAopr/s320/Otto+of+the+Silver+Hand.jpg" width="229" /></a>To my surprise I found a treasure, an old edition of <i>Otto of the Silver Hand, </i>written and illustrated by Howard Pyle and first published in 1888. I took it home to read. As a lover and author of children's books, I had read <i>about</i> this classic but had never seen a copy. This one is in near perfect condition, a beautifully designed book telling a sweet but violent story set in Germany during the Middle Ages. After Otto's mother dies in childbirth, his father, Baron Conrad, takes him to a nearby monastery to be raised by the monks. Otto is a gentle boy who at the age of twelve is suddenly thrust back into the violent world of the Baron when he comes for his son.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOqR2cExd-n9ZruyC3by7OTZPR9fg5K8CXYqjm_dd8xb1EwITykiI7RyvHLQ0GhGX3B0yZcPro2d93RIxzOXdKpUQm2nOwCQ91j7RHhw1knHx1-hGuhCu0g7E7VFKQbWjpblIAr5FK0AP/s1600/Illustration+by+Howard+Pyle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOqR2cExd-n9ZruyC3by7OTZPR9fg5K8CXYqjm_dd8xb1EwITykiI7RyvHLQ0GhGX3B0yZcPro2d93RIxzOXdKpUQm2nOwCQ91j7RHhw1knHx1-hGuhCu0g7E7VFKQbWjpblIAr5FK0AP/s320/Illustration+by+Howard+Pyle.jpg" width="235" /></a>Howard Pyle is not only a fine storyteller, his pen and ink illustrations are powerful, like this one that shows the Baron bringing his wounded son back to the monastery. Pyle taught N.C. Wyeth who did full color illustrations for <i>Robin Hood, Treasure Island,</i> and other classics. It is easy to see Pyle's influence in Wyeth's illustration for <i>The Boy's King Arthur, </i>below<i>.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-R6quOX14KEUhLlfUhi0FYR1T_74dn6rv221nxELfP9uEdavWuuTWRW3_AFaEn39yGb7N373_FO4V-RsSqQkj1IVcAksEOY-WZ83Yo3w12zM6XEkpV3xywvKQY177oMfaOUkxaVoSV6sq/s1600/Illustration+by+N.C.+Wyeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-R6quOX14KEUhLlfUhi0FYR1T_74dn6rv221nxELfP9uEdavWuuTWRW3_AFaEn39yGb7N373_FO4V-RsSqQkj1IVcAksEOY-WZ83Yo3w12zM6XEkpV3xywvKQY177oMfaOUkxaVoSV6sq/s320/Illustration+by+N.C.+Wyeth.jpg" width="254" /></a><br />
Thank you, neighbors for the opportunity to read <i>Otto of the Silver Hand</i>. I shall return it as well as add some of my own books. Perhaps one day on a visit to your library I will meet you. Meanwhile I have discovered that there are Little Free Libraries all over the world with the purpose of creating communities that share books and reading. You can learn more on their website: www.littlefreelibrary.org<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-22230119275439490832013-05-23T15:56:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:30:36.597-07:00Immortality and the Memoir<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Immortality. We all yearn for it, and one way to get it is by writing a memoir. As the saying goes, "Write yourself into existence." I decided to do just that.<br />
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I began by reading other people's memoirs. My favorite was Rosemary Sutcliff's <i>Blue Remembered Hills. </i>She is also the author of <i>Eagle of the Ninth, </i>a historical novel of Roman Britain that I keep on my desk at all times for inspiration.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWKstbNw6VCfFQ6RFZMZbQe7-yD0aJKYWH0E1bOk2SZwqSObaPuvzzoSpvXq8DjSTHPBX-3I9MYCD64I7kXA-lHMBgF8zsXF_sPiUJ0N70EUueW5-X3nN1Lw8GgxTEsZbVOSDMGxpAtf8/s1600/Blue+Remembered+Hills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWKstbNw6VCfFQ6RFZMZbQe7-yD0aJKYWH0E1bOk2SZwqSObaPuvzzoSpvXq8DjSTHPBX-3I9MYCD64I7kXA-lHMBgF8zsXF_sPiUJ0N70EUueW5-X3nN1Lw8GgxTEsZbVOSDMGxpAtf8/s320/Blue+Remembered+Hills.jpg" width="212" /></a><i><br /></i>
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Next I read books on writing a memoir, and the one that set me on fire was <i>The Autobiographer's Handbook, </i>edited by Jennifer Traig with an introduction by Dave Eggers. His first book, a memoir titled <i>A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, </i>was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. He said, "You should write your story because you will someday die, and without your story on paper, most of it will be forgotten." The <i>Handbook </i>is like a panel discussion among expert memoirists on all the elements of writing an autobiography.<br />
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As with any creative project, the hardest part is beginning. But as Goethe said, "First you must begin and then the mind grows heated."<br />
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I think the best way to begin is not at the beginning but with a vivid memory of an event in your life. Write it down. Each day write a memory. Chronology doesn't matter, just write what comes to mind. Doing so will bring up more memories day after day. When you have emptied your memory bank, read through them and look for a theme to learn what your memoir is about. I found that my story was about searching for the life in me.<br />
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As I began to put the pieces of memories together, I felt the need to bring them alive with dialogue - not that I always remembered the exact words people spoke, but I remembered the event and the characters<br />
involved, and I invented dialogue. Suddenly the memory came alive, dragged out of the past.<br />
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William Faulkner said, "The past is not dead. It is not even past." And with a memoir as with historical fiction, the past becomes the present. It took me a year to put memories together, then another year to get the book published. Now the story of my life from birth to Tom is told in a bound hardcover book. It's not for sale anywhere. I made it for family and friends so that my story would not be forgotten.<br />
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<i>Becoming Alive </i> is a prequel to <i>Honeymoon Hobos, </i>the story of our yearlong trip around the world. For more about this travel memoir, which is available to the public, see my 2011 blogs on September 1st and 23rd.<br />
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I intend to continue my life story in a third memoir while continuing to write children's books. So now, back to work!<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-4653836437513029802013-05-03T12:43:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:30:59.568-07:00Rewards<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Writing and illustrating books is hard but joyous work and has enormous rewards. The best reward of all is hearing about a reader relating to the story and being affected by it.<br />
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There are many other rewards and we recently had two. I was inducted into the august company of writers in the Texas Institute of Letters (TIL) They have decided that children's books are literature. Hooray!<br />
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Out of 15 new members I was the only writer for children. Each of us was asked to read from one of our books, and I chose <i>I, Vivaldi. </i>Tom stood beside me and showed his illustrations. If only the organization was called the Texas Institute of Letters and Illustrations (TILI), Tom would be a member too.<br />
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I must say those august writers seemed to enjoy our picture book biography. It is indeed a book for all ages.<br />
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Even better was our experience at the Texas Library Association Conference in Fort Worth. Tom and I donated an original illustration from <i>I, Vivaldi </i>titled<i> </i>"First Lesson." It was raffled off at $5 per ticket to raise money for the Texas Library Disaster Relief Fund. Fortunately and unfortunately it will be used to help libraries in West, Texas, recover from the recent explosion tragedy. <br />
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Tom drew the winning ticket onstage before 4000 enthusiastic librarians. The illustration was won by Willie Braudaway, a library consultant. Congratulations and farewell "First Lesson."</div>
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After the drawing we were ushered to front row seats for Neil Gaiman's speech that he titled, "What the Very Bad Swear Word Is a Children's Book?" a charming, thought-provoking performance by the winner of the Newbery Award for <i>The Graveyard Book.</i></div>
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During the conference Tom and I signed copies of <i>I, Vivaldi</i> in our publisher's booth, Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, with the help of editor Kathleen Merz. All very rewarding!</div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-59876182204509173702013-02-23T18:52:00.000-08:002019-05-05T14:31:17.689-07:00Love Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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JANICE: We recently received a letter from a teacher in Pocatello, Idaho, that brought back warm memories of a school visit Tom and I made a few years ago. It turned into a love story between a boy who did not like to read and a book, between an author and illustrator and a reader, and between two cultures.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJMmctV1ay9Wm5PDxDiPZe9MIECh8bzMM2oXNhfKmXHhr58S5K3BAYx8B2iH7_WRtZQ9zzjW5xPGjGnP06bH9ERjxb3gH1L1o2bh2OziVZsrLXjUP5NrksMP5-Q1kp1H9VfAqPn7RNLVR/s1600/Young+Wolf's+First+Hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a>Never could I have imagined what would happen when I answered a letter from a fifth grade Shoshone boy in Pocatello named Samuel. He said our three books about Young Wolf "are the first ones I loved." Could we please write another?<br />
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Yes, we could. We called the next book <i>Son of Spirit Horse </i>and dedicated it to Samuel as a surprise.<br />
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Then it was our turn to be surprised. Through Samuel's teacher, Kaye Turner, we were invited to Pocatello for an author-illustrator visit to schools in the city and on Fort Hall Reservation. There we met Samuel, his parents, grandmother, and great grandmother, matriarch of the family.</div>
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As a culmination to our visit we gave a public presentation at Idaho State University. Samuel invited the tribal spiritual leader to play the drum and sing tribal songs as an opener for our program. After explaining the meaning, LeeJuan sang a song in Shoshone, paced by his drum, asking the Creator to bless the education of their young people and keep them on the "good road."</div>
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There is still hatred and prejudice between the Shoshone and whites in Idaho. Sadly, the Fort Hall Reservation had the highest suicide rate in the country. I had been told that the Shoshone never shared their language with whites. It is the only thing we have not taken from them. To ask how to say a word in Shoshone is to risk offending.</div>
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I decided to take the risk. After the drumming and songs, I began by saying "good evening" in every language I know bits of - Japanese, Italian, Greek, Spanish, French, German - as a way of introducing my theme of learning from other cultures rather than clashing with them. Then I asked if anyone knew how to say good evening in another language. LeeJuan spoke up and taught me the Shoshone words right there on the spot.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Todd (Father), Syrina (Mother), Samuel, Janice, Tom<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, here's to Samuel's future. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">May he stay on the good road.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> He did not like to read and now he does. It is a thrill to be part of such a transformation. And it is a thrill to connect with another culture.</span></div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-36348989781588315332012-12-13T15:36:00.000-08:002019-05-05T14:31:30.591-07:00A Memorable Moment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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JANICE: On a school visit yesterday I had a memorable moment. After my presentation to the fourth grade classes, a teacher, Melissa, came up to me with tears in her eyes.<br />
"I want to tell you a story if I can manage without crying."<br />
"It doesn't matter — emotions are good," I said.<br />
She nodded and began. "Your book, <i>A Paradise Called Texas, </i>changed my life forever."<br />
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I caught my breath. "How?"<br />
"When I was in the fourth grade my mother died. Of course, I was devastated. My teacher said she wanted to read a book to me — just the two of us alone, day by day. The book was yours and from it I learned how Mina, a girl my age, dealt with grief when her mother died. I realized that my life would go on and I needed to make the best of it. And, thanks to you, I did."<br />
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We embraced and I, too, had tears in my eyes. To think that a book I wrote could have such a profound effect gave me goose bumps. What a responsibility we authors have to our readers.<br />
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Melissa went on to say that because her fourth grade teacher helped her through a traumatic experience, she decided to become a teacher herself. What a responsibility teachers have to students as well. Together teachers and writers of children's books can change the world.<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-9751995509837778252012-10-24T19:43:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:31:45.504-07:00Oh, Those Koreans!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: Those Koreans know what they want. They are eager to introduce their children to the high culture of the world, including western classical music.<br />
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First a Korean publisher, Tomato House, bought foreign rights to publish our picture book biography, <i>I, Vivaldi, </i>(Eerdmans, 2008) and did so beautifully<i>.</i><br />
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So Tom and I were thrilled when they offered to publish our latest picture book, <i> I, Papa Haydn, </i>even though it has not been published in English. We won't be able to read my words, but as Tom says, "Pictures tell the story no matter what the language."<br />
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He is busy painting the final illustrations. Here is a double page spread showing young Joseph Haydn coming into Vienna where he will sing in the boys' choir at St. Stephens Cathedral.<br />
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And here Joseph and his teacher, Master Reuter, arrive at the Cathedral.</div>
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Publishing date is December, 2013. Thank you, Tomato House. We love you. And who knows, maybe an American publisher will purchase foreign rights to publish the book in English!</div>
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3860230237584351355.post-11502165763770889122012-08-16T18:45:00.000-07:002019-05-05T14:33:02.364-07:00Nueces River Massacre<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JANICE: The <i>Treue der Union</i><i> </i>Monument in Comfort, Texas, may be the only Union memorial in the South. It is the burial place of thirty-four German immigrants who died in the Nueces River Massacre during the Civil War for their loyalty to the Union and their refusal to fight for slavery. They were on the right side.<br />
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In August of 1862 some sixty German Texans from Comfort and surroundings decided to flee to Mexico and from there to New Orleans where they could join the Union Army. Confederate soldiers followed and, with a full moon still in the sky, attacked their camp on the Nueces River. Thirty-four Germans were killed, including prisoners, and their bodies left to rot in the August sun. After the war was over their bones were brought back to Comfort for burial.<br />
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Tom and I recently traveled to Comfort to attend the 150th Anniversary of the Nueces River Massacre and to sign our book, <i>Sophie's War, </i>a historical novel based on this tragedy.<br />
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Sophie's father is a political cartoonist who expresses his Unionist views in a San Antonio newspaper. Since Texas has seceded from the Union, his life is in danger. Sophie pleads with him to keep his opinions to himself. But he refuses, saying, "That is why we left Germany – so we could be free to say what we think." Sophie must find a way to save her family.<br />
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And we must find a way to have peace on earth. As T.R. Fehrenbach said in a previous ceremony at the <i>Treue der Union</i> Monument, "Will we never learn that violence solves nothing."<br />
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Janice and Tom Shefelmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02641887475711256174noreply@blogger.com0