The Sea Serpent and Me

One of the more pointless and addictive things you can do when you have a new book out, is repetitively Google the title to find out what is being said about it. And so, even though I have several articles to work on, final rewrites on a new children’s book due, and a promise to deliver a new fiction manuscript to my agent by the fall, I keep googling The Sea Serpent and Me.

In doing so, I’ve discovered some cool things. Children’s Book blog Planet Esme gave me what is probably the nicest review I will ever receive in my life ("the sort of book that children will remember for years, with images that wend their way into the landscape of dreams."), and the book has gotten lovely reviews from the Well Read Child (“a fantastic book that celebrates friendship, courage, imagination, and childhood."), the San Francisco Chronicle (“a sweet, fanciful story about an unlikely friendship that seems as deep and real as any human one."), the San Jose Mercury News ("lyrical and beguiling"), and Curious City Reads (“You must have a peek at this small, sweet treat."). I even discovered that the book had been mentioned in the same breath as the word Caldecott, although I should hasten to say that the comment was made by a second grader.

Still, it's things like that that keep me trolling. I once read that of all the different kinds of artists, writers are the ones who need the most constant stream of praise and reassurance, and as I avoid doing my actual work to begin yet another Google search, I can confirm that this is so. Yes, it's great that I found a nice review yesterday, but what is there today? I am even childishly capable of taking positive remarks completely the wrong way. For instance, I bridled when I discovered that in an otherwise delightful write-up on goodreads.com, a mother said that she thought my book Firefighters in the Dark was a bit too long for bedtime. “How much time does this woman allot for bedtime stories anyway?” I instantly wanted to know. Not enough, clearly.

More important than praise though, is the simple comfort of knowing that my book is being read – whether it’s by a second grader in Ohio, a librarian in South Dakota, or the owner of a small bookstore in Australia. And so I find myself pleased by strange and silly things. The Sea Serpent and Me is being sold on at nanotechnology site for instance, although the logic behind this link escapes me. (The sea serpent in the story starts out small, but he’s never a nanoparticle.) The randomness of the listing doesn’t dampen my enthusiasm in the least. The important thing is that nanotechnologists like my book! Let's raise a glass to nanotechnologists who like children's books -- a small but hopefully expanding class of people.

I suppose all of this is a byproduct of the fact that as a writer, you so rarely get to see your audience experience your work. Reading is a private and solitary act, just like writing. One of the unexpected benefits of the Internet is that you get a few glimpses into the minds of your readers – a sense of how the words on the page sound inside their minds.

But enough of this -- it's time to start googling again!