Molly’s Cue TRAILER

Wow. I’ve done it! I’ve learned something about iMovie, and I’ve made a trailer for my new novel, Molly’s Cue, out in May.  mud girl full cover.qxd

I think this should be the new way to create those horrible “book reviews” we had to do as kids in school. I always loathed doing them; they ruined the reading experience for me. But thinking in terms of visuals/symbols, and linking them…now that might be fun!

The toughest part–but in many ways, most enjoyable–was finding images/photos that connected with the story and the characters. Then creating brief pieces of text. They say that you know whether or not a book can be turned into a decent film if you can make a visually-successful trailer.

Okay, here’s what I’m going to do: post the trailer here on my site and Youtube, and I’d like for you to view it, and list the ways that the pictures, the words, and any other elements connect with the book…which means you’ll read the book. The person who can come up with the most connections, I will send a signed copy. Anyone who makes a connection that I didn’t see myself–even if it’s the only connection they list–will also get a book! (So much of the writing process is sub- or un-conscious; sometimes the writer doesn’t recognize what seems obvious to the reader.)

My email is alison at alison acheson dot com. (Please do not post as a comment! A wise young fellow at Jarvis Elementary pointed out that if people DO post as a comment, then others can see the answers! So do send to my email…and I’ll post the winning answers!)

Let’s see what you can come up with!


I came home from Ditch Lake Manitoba yesterday, and found a copy of my new picturebook, Grandpa’s Music, in the mail.  What a wonderful feeling, to actually hold a copy in my hands!  And at the same time, be very aware of how much energy has come from others in the creating of this thing.  Another’s vision has a huge role in a picturebook, and before the vision of the illustrator, there is the vision of the editor.  It is altogether something like a stageplay, with each playing a role in the coming together of a production.

Then today, there’s another slim package in the mailbox.  And I open it to find an upside down book…no a book, with a picture of a house on the front…and I can’t read the title…because it’s in Hebrew, and it’s to be read what I think of as back-to-front, right to left.  And it comes with a slip of paper from the publisher of my stories for adults, to let me know that somewhere in this volume is my short story “Across the Hall.”  I couldn’t tell you which of the stories is mine.  All I can read is the title on the title page, and “printed in Israel.”  Again, someone I don’t know, and in all likelihood, will never meet, decided he or she liked my story, thought it worthwhile to include, someone else (possibly) translated it, decided where it would work in the collection…took all those steps that are part of creating a book…and here it is, in my hands.

Thank you to so many people.  Writing is not quite the solitary work that it is believed to be…

ancient yelloweds…

After a year spent working in elementary education, I’ve returned to what feels like home, reading about theories and ideas and writing texts.  I’ve been imagining writing and literature course syllabi, and what texts might be useful to not-so-young writing students.

I’ve captured some notes from Tom Chiarella’s Writing Dialogue, which is a solid book to re-visit, and from Josip Novakovich’s Fiction Writer’s Workshop (which has the best chapter on point of view).  Then I picked up my old–ancient–copy of John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers.  What was I? about 18 when I ordered this from the Quality Paperback Book Club?

Since last September, I’ve had to don reading glasses.  For several months last fall, I’d find I had to have them some days, and other days, I could pull off reading without them.  Now I can’t, not if the book is close to me.  Today, I put on the glasses, and brought the book closer…and as I closed it, the pages fanned, and a particular scent wafted to me: old book smell.

When I was a child, most of what I read was old…old Grosset & Dunlap, most likely.  Nancy Drew, Dana Girls, Judy Bolton.  Ancient yellowed Trixie Belden.  And that old book smell was the best part of summer.

To think I’ve lived long enough to have a book, once new in my hands, acquire that smell.

Just to make sure, I smell it again.