Xenophobia

Fear of the Foreign.

I love summer because so many people travel and a few more bricks in the wall are taken down.

Every time I fly over the ocean, I try to pinpoint the exact spot over the Atlantic where I become a foreigner.

I've lived outside of my home culture to the point that the wall for me is rubble. That's a good thing. I am also a francophile. :~)

As far as writing for kids goes, I think they are starving for stories outside of their home cultures. My own stories are Jason Bourne for kids (boys, in particular). Fun. Fast. But quelque chose de different.

Mitali Perkins writes about this cultural divide. She inspired today's blog. You can check her out at http://www.mitaliblog.com/2009/07/ya-books-and-global-poverty.html

Fast Friends

I feel very rich in friends.

For me, we are always making new friends. Continually. I think it's the only way to feel rich is to be rich in friends.

When you meet someone new, you know pretty quickly. You know what I mean? You thin-slice.

I think I make friends pretty easily.

My newest bestest friend I've spent a total of maybe eight hours with him. Total face time, that is.

I met Sarah Frances' husband, John, the other day for the first time and he reminded me how easy it is to make friends with someone brand new to you.

Don't get me wrong here. This former mock-fugative is not without issue, either. John has faux-alQaida ties. He's known to chase bears with brooms. And he has trouble finding good fishing spots. But he has an open door and cold beer behind it.

That's my new criteria for friendship. Open door. Cold beer.

What's your criteria? Do you make friends quicker than others? And for the writery question of the day: Do boys make friends more easily (quicker and not necessarily deeper) than girls?

(photo credit: my oldest bestest friend)

Travel in France with kids

This post is for anyone traveling to France with kids.

There are four words you need, must have, when going to France.

1. Bonjour (hello/good day),
2. Au revoir (good-bye, literally: until the re-see)
3. Merci (thank you),
4. S’il vous plait (please, literally: if it is pleasing to you).

The most important is bonjour because it is the first impression word.

Contrary to popular belief, the French are very courteous.

To make the point, French youths (ratty looking boys with low hanging pants) commonly say “thank-you” to the city bus drivers when getting off the bus!

The main reason French think Americans are rude (and the reason they are rude to us) is that we do not say “Bonjour” when entering a store (shop, café).

French shopkeepers are like little Napoleons ruling over tiny dynasties!

The number one rule of all European cultures is to acknowledge the proprietor of a store, shop, or even the waiter in a cafe. (Even if it is a humble “hello” in English. But, in France, the “bonjour” is imperative.

Once you’ve said bonjour then you can use the “I don’t know another word” smile!!!
And they get it.

France is the most visited country in the world with more visitors than citizens.

What you’ve done by saying hello is say, “I am trying... meet me half way.”

S’il vous plait (See Voo Play) is very useful because it can introduce any need or want. When looking to buy something, typically you do not touch it first. If it is a self-service place, a sign will read, “Self-Service.”

French custom is many times very formal so they like to serve you. If you want something you might say, “S’il vous plait” and then say slowly in English what you want or point.

Au revoir (Oar ruh vwah), is important because it is last thing they hear from you and so leaves a good last impression.

Word four is Merci. (Mare see)
French are not lavish, like we are, with their thank you’s. Merci is used at the end, commonly when leaving with “Merci, au revoir.”

You don't need to say Maresee every time the waiter puts something on your table. It's his job.

KIDS IN FRANCE: Everyone loves it when parents ask their children to say, “Bonjour” and “Merci.” It is a big crowd pleaser!

Send a kid into the store with you and have the kid say Bonjour Madame. They will be buerre in your hands.

Here is my top five places to go with kids in Paris.

1. Tuileries Gardens. After your Louvre tour you’ll come out of the glass pyramid. The Tuileries Gardens are across the street and in the park you’ll find playgrounds, mule rides, and trampolines.

2. La Tour Eiffel (of course). See it at night at the top of the hour when the 10,000 strobe lights light it up.

3. Pompidou Center. Don’t even go in. Just watch the street performers in front of the museum. Sunday is best.

4. Picasso Museum in the Marais. A fun place to give kids a pad and pencil to copy Picasso’s work.

5. Ile de la cité and Notre Dame and Ile Saint Louis.

Eats.

At most cafés, brasseries, or even high-end restaurants you will find staek-haché et frites (hamburger and fries).

Pizza in France is very good.

Quick food places are the greek restaurants with the big spool of meat behind the counter. The Shawarma sandwiches are awesome.

Drinks in France are innumerable. For kids, they like Orangina and cassis and water. Or a Coke is "Cocah. See voo play."

For grownups on a hot day, a Monoco (a beer mixed with a little sprite) is great.

Au revoir.

Face-down

When people put the book they're reading down, they tend to put it face-down.

This is a theory.

I met a guy at the 10-minute massage chair. He was reading when I came up and he set the book down, face-down and upside-down, and he looked at me and said hi I'm Kevin. And then he rubbed my shoulder.

I paid and asked what he was reading and he told me and that was that. But I had to ask.

What's going on here?

People hiding titles.
Is this only done in public? You see it on trains and planes. Newspapers in cafés.

Are people deliberately concealing the face of the book, hiding what they're reading?

Or do they love the book so much that they're keeping it a secret? Just for themselves.
I like that idea.

The book here on my desk is upside-down and face-down, which is perfectly appropiate for this title.

Is yours face-down?

How NOT to get Swine Flu.

Boys. Books. Balls.

Sometimes we think boys like to read about sports because boys like to play sports, but boys don't play soccer just to win; they play to dream of being great. At something.
Books and stories are not that different from playing sports.

There are plenty of guys out there—baseball / soccer / sports guys. You know them. I've quit teams because of them. These are the dads focused on winning. For five year olds! 

Most boys (and girls, too) will be culled out by high school, anyway, and another round at college, and the final cut: the pros.

Many grownup men have lost that loving feeling for why we play baseball, soccer, etc. It really is a game. It's not about winning. It's about dreaming to win.

Boys like books that let them dream about being great.

Ever watch a ten-year-old boy play basketball by himself?

Boys, who are allowed to dream about winning at an early age, win in whatever they do because they hold a dream inside of them. They don't have to hold the trophy in their hands.

What do we want for boys? And what books are they reading?

Thin-slicing

I just finished reading Malcolm Gladwell's book, Blink. It's a fast read about how we make decisions in the blink of an eye. Gladwell calls it thin-slicing.

When we come in contact with something—a book, a painting, an idea—we bring subconscious knowledge to that very first second and on some level, we come to a conclusion.

Most of the time, we dig for more information. It's rational. Gladwell shows that sometimes we know in that very first second what the what is. Thin slicing is not intuition, but real thinking that takes place real fast.

Sport makes for a great example. A running back makes thousands of decisions as he runs down the field. He's thinking, "Cut or duck—that guy's huge. Cut. Quick."

Tiger Woods tweaks his ankle and sinks the putt. Is he aware of his ankle adjustment? Doubt it.

You're in a bookstore and you slide a book off the shelf. You glance at the cover and scan the blurb and then you read the first line. A decision has formed. You might ask the clerks their opinions, but you already have an idea in place.

Writers make these snap, subconscious decisions as they are typing. The über critic makes this naturally more difficult. But in the end, can you tweak your subconscious?

Editors and agents plow through tons of material every day. Without thin-slicing, they would never get through the pile.

I wonder if the accepted stories have something upfront and deliciously subconscious that clicks in the agent's mind and makes her say, "I can sell this."