My BEA 2015

This year I attended first Book Expo of America. And IT. WAS. AWESOME. I began my day meeting my editor, of Leap Books, Judith Graves, in the cafeteria. Informal and splendid, I've learned that I must have one of the coolest editors out there.  She’s multi-talented, wise and plays guitar! Both of us, musicians and writers, we connected like a 3/4-time signature, storytellers through and through. Even Thoreau was a musician. The essay, On Duty and Civil Disobedience, figures prominently in The Unmoving Sky, my YA suspense with Leap Books. (Spring 2016)

Three "generations" of Leap Books. Judith Graves, founder, Laurie Edwards, and Shine author, K.L. Hallam.

Back to BEA. I was nervous, not knowing what to expect.  The unknown is what often causes us anxiety. But once I got there, everything opened up and I found my place. I meet with, Gail Nall, talented MG & YA author and Kidliterati contributor. She showed me the ropes: how to stand in line, and WAIT. Yeah, that’s pretty much the rhythm of BEA, a lot of waiting, standing and searching for a place to charge your phone. I used the handy-dandy BEA app, which worked fine enough for me. I noticed many print outs in the hands of other attendees, (the pros). But I got by.

Me with YA & MG author, Gail Nall.

I stopped in at a couple of the Blogger/Social Media talks, one of which was supposed to show authors and publishers how to utilize social media for their book sales, but that talk turned into a sales job for Bookgrabbr. And one, meek voice in the crowd stepped up to call them out on it. They immediately apologized and threw us a bone. I enjoyed listening to best-selling authors, Juliana Baggott, Elin Hilderbrand, Kimberla Lawson Roby, talk about their writing process. I always love hearing how authors use their time and writing techniques. I spent Thursday at BEA, and in the morning the exhaustion and excitement hit me like a hangover. And while BEA was in town, along with several writers from my amazing and supportive group, Kidliterati, we gathered that Friday night. It was the icing on the cake!  But we sure did miss the others.  

Benjamin Brooks, Brian Sargent, Chris Brandon Whitaker, Ella Schwartz, Melanie Conklin, Gail Nall, and (me) K. L. Hallam #mgbetareaders. Only 8 representing our 24 members of Kidliterati.

Until Next year BEA! 

A Little Surprise I Found Today

While searching the title of my forthcoming (debut) novella, The Unmoving Sky, from Leap/Shine Books, I found this:


"The north celestial pole points due north, toward the North Star, or Polaris, which mythmakers recognized as The Unmoving Sky god they relied on to uphold the cosmic order. Because the sky world seemed to revolve around this invisible pole, the world axis and the North Star above it implied stability and permanence. It marked the center of the world."

Dictionary of Nature Myths: Legends of Earth, Sea, and Sky by Tamara Andrews. Oxford University Press. 


I thought this was really cool and apropos to the book, to me, and what I want this book to be. A stabilizing force in my career as an author. The Unmoving Sky as part of my heart, the center, or beginning, and what will come. 

How (my) Home Renovations Are Like Book Revisions.

As I bent over for the hundredth time to reorganize, either the kitchen or the living room this week, I began to realize that the constant going over was quite like revisions.

Dead tired, I thought, what am I learning from this? It was grueling, our landlord’s handyman, sloppy. I had to continually clean up after his and my husband’s mess. I came home to a surprise, each day, unwarned, the kitchen wrapped in plastic with millions of white water-based paints splattered across the wood floors. I cleaned up the kitchen, and the next day, it happened again – for the second coat. And I cleaned that.

This had gone on for over a month, with one handyman making his way through our apartment, after a sub-zero winter left us with a steam pipe break and nearly collapsed wall. 

I asked myself, what am I learning from this? This cannot be a wasted effort. Granted, I’d eventually get a wall and a painted apartment and several neglected repairs. (In years past, I did the wall painting) But the slow and messy progress was like a cruel joke. 

My husband works nights, and he wrestled with the handyman during the day while I watched the café – and wrote. Thank the heavens! However, I’d pay for that when I got home.

With revisions, you feel like you’re doing the same thing, over and over, most of the time. You fix a page, maybe a beta reader reads it, and you utilize their notes, or you revise because revisions are an ongoing process and you have faith that the work will get done and turn out right by the end. And eventually you push through – warrior style. 

Which reminds me of a great Cheryl Strayed interview clip you can hear on Soundcloud, about writing like a warrior. Coincidentally, I heard the interview for the first time, during this exhausting time. Just what I needed to hear.  

Maybe this is all I learned.

Just to push through. Keep going. And hold that polished kitchen/MS in your mind’s eye until the work is done.

Then stand back, and remember: you earned this.  The reward is getting the work finished. In my case, it's uncertain when the rubble of creation will form. But for now I'll take a respite, and just in time for Mother's Day.  

The Original ABEGALE FORCE first page.

I found the original first page from three, or more, years ago when this story came bubbling up from my story root system. And after hundreds of rewrites I much prefer this original vision. 

The opening pages were critiqued on open forums and much the "voice" was lost. I want it back! I may rewrite it again with this page in mind. Luckily, for the most part only the first chapter was over-worked.  (Remember my mention in an earlier post about over-editing. Beware, it happens!) 
But I sure learned a lot. 

                     After school on Friday

Going to Stephanie’s apartment building helps me appreciate my home. But the smells always make me wish for more. In the evening it often smells like someone just baked a sweet potato casserole and stewed it for hours with extra butter and caramel sauce. 

“Just a few things?” I ask Stephanie.

“Yeah, and Chris might be home,” she says, still teasing me about her brother who is preparing to leave for college.

We approach Stephanie’s building, which sits near the back lots of a shopping strip. The winds are picking up and tempest swirls seem to be following us. No one’s outside this late in the afternoon. But I do make out Mr. Miller feeding seeds to the pigeons. He’s an old air force veteran who talks a lot about the misconceptions of government. He’s really funny and goes off about “covert operations” no one knows about.

We pass to the left of the parking lot and he doesn’t see us. Besides I wouldn’t want him to scatter the birds. The sun is getting higher and warmer in the west. I drift toward it, and the heat presses against my cheeks. Stephanie is rambling on about something.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask her.

 “Chris is going to ask me about that CD.”

“I’ll get it to you before he leaves.”

“I think you’re holding on to it on purpose,” she delivers in a singsong voice.

“Are your parents home?” I change the subject. I know I’ll have no protection, both her parents work day and night.

We get to the door of her building and Stephanie buzzes 2B, again and again.

“Hey, give me a minute, Phenny, where are your keys?” Chris’s voice trails from the speaker.

Stephanie pushes through the heavy metal door as the buzz sounds. And as we enter we hear a voice, “Stephanie is that your friend?” the voice whispers out of sight. Then there’s a thump . . . thump . . . thump.

I didn’t know anyone moved into the apartment by the front door. A tall lanky woman appears with dark inset eyes and hair pulled up on her head like a cameo broach. She’s wearing a floor length dress and has a tall walking stick that outstretches her hand above her waist.

“Hello Stephanie and Abegale, Stephanie has told me so much about you.” She has a warm mothering smile.  “I’m Mrs. Egremony. How’s your cough, Stephanie?

Stephanie clears her throat. “Um, I guess it’s okay, I haven’t thought about it. I guess I’m feeling better.”

“Well, let me know if you’re still coughing at night. I spoke with your mom and she’ll be listening,” Mrs. Egremony finishes.

“All right.” Stephanie seems impatient to leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Egremony.” Stephanie’s walking backward up the steps.

Mrs. Egremony turns to her apartment but calls after us. “Drink fresh lemon juice, lemonade if you like, but lots of fresh lemon.”

Making the Decision to Pause the Music.

Hardest decision EVER! I spent years working on my music, writing original tunes and studying jazz and improvisation with various teachers. Four years hosting a jam session I created to get the performance practice I needed and to help other vocalists. Since I had the space, I’d create it and they would come. Sure helped that my husband owns one of the hippest jazz venues in NYC.

As I was trying to find my voice in jazz, I was also trying to develop my voice in fiction. A stranger once told me, “Those are two of the hardest businesses to crack into.”  Thank you, kind stranger. But he was right.

It’s always, do what you love, what’s in your heart. But what if you love several things and you aren’t half bad at them, either?

I already resigned myself to put down the paintbrushes and stop my figurative sculpture classes. Leave the painting to weekend meditations.

To help me decide I’d boil it down to one thing: Story Telling, which is what Jazz singers do. They tell an emotional journey, a tale. I love connecting with the emotional core of the song.

I was energized by the thrill and the buzz of live performances for years, and I became pretty good. Then I stopped.

There were a few personal reasons I ended the jam session, last September. As in, if you aren’t having fun – why bother. I didn’t need it to pay my rent. And the truth is I made scarcely anything after paying my pianist. It was quite a bit of behind the scenes work, with promo, etc. But it was more than monetary rewards. It was helping others when I was in a position to do so — and getting my practice on. But the lifestyle – the nights and the longer nights – I didn’t think I could do – not with one parent already working every night.  Now, if I could sing at Jazz brunches every weekend I’d be down for that, but it’s not very realistic.

As a kid, I was always singing, and often writing stories. Both have been a part of me for as long as I can remember.

I made the decision to focus on my fiction. I still jam with friends, but the time needed to go out and hustle for gigs, and search for musicians at this time in my life isn’t going to work out.  All I need, to focus on my writing is me -- for now. Until I want to publish them, that is.

We can only do so much on our own. Eventually we need the help of others, even the solitary practice of writing. And we need our readers!

I want grow as a writer and learn my craft from inside and out and become the best fiction writer I can be.

I write during the day, as I babysit the family Jazz club and attend to café customers. At night, I research craft, or history for the story I’m working on, (make dinner!) and read at night. There’s scarcely enough time. I must be extremely disciplined to get the work done. But I LOVE it!!! I could spend hours (if my rear end would let me) in my fiction. Time dissolves; hours pass, and I hardly notice where the day went. It's a little different when I’m editing. But, shh, I actually enjoy editing. This may be part of the reason I always over-cut my bangs. I’ve also been known to over-edit. Oh, for the love of first novels.

Today, I pause the music. But it’s not the end. Oh Lord, no. The music is in me. I am a storyteller. I just cannot do it all, all at once. Right? This is what I tell myself.  Cause, I sure do miss performing. (I vocalize every day, no matter what, to relax and keep my instrument supple) And lucky for me, I spend my days writing in a Jazz club. So the music is also, all around me.

What have you had to put aside to focus on writing?

If you'd like to hear an original song of mine. (2011)

ALL THAT'S CHANGED lyrics/melody/vocals: Karen lee

 The live shows were of poor phone quality. You'll find one or two on my youtube channel and more on www.myspace.com/karenleehallam. 

Book Review: The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Young Readers Edition by William Kamkwamba

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Young Readers Edition by William Kamkwamba
My rating: 5 of 5 stars


This is the story of a young adult, who out of necessity searches for a way to bring electricity to his family, in the small village of Malawi, Africa.

When young William Kamkwamba discovers a dynamo (dynamoelectric device) on a bicycle, powering a light with the force of the peddler – he wants to learn how to bring that energy home. Energy is everywhere. How can he harness it?

“No one seemed to have the answers, so I set out to find them on my own.”

William becomes fascinated with the dynamo, and his first stop is the Library. A small library that he and his friends must organize each time the use it. There’s no order. And translating the English takes time. William’s learning a lot of new terms and ideas, but his curiosity holds him to it while he tries to figure out what goes where and the Science behind it.

No one in his village stays up past sunset, once they’re covered in darkness. But what if . . . he could bring light to his home? Then he could study after dark, and make up for the lost years when his family couldn’t afford the payments for his secondary education.

When last year’s harvest never came, the starvation that wrecked his village wouldn’t have to happen again. If he could harness the energy to bring water out of a deep well and water the fields. This would give them a second harvest. And his village could use the spigot, instead of traveling miles for water.


“Someone had to save our women, our trees (used for firewood), and I thought, why not me.”

He learns many things about physics, and so does the reader, in a clearly defined and entertaining way. And even if you know he’s going to build that windmill – the suspense when he struggles and eventually pushes through – you want to cheer him on. Everyone thinks he’s a madman, even his family worries until they see it for themselves. Though the project doesn’t get completed on its own. William’s friends help in very important ways.

This book was published in 2009. I haven’t read that one, so I can’t cross-reference. But I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book for young readers, from the cultural escape to learning about William’s experience. His ingenuity and determination are a great inspiration for all young minds.




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