Post by booboobrewer on Jun 26, 2008 15:11:46 GMT -5
I love this article. The author sounds like any of us 20-somethings posting here 
www.ajc.com/living/content/living/stories/2008/05/29/ann_martin.html
And the link to the article about the girl winning the visit: www.ajc.com/living/content/living/stories/2008/05/01/author.html
www.ajc.com/living/content/living/stories/2008/05/29/ann_martin.html
Famous kids author Ann Martin makes rare appearance in Newnan
By JAMIE GUMBRECHT
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 05/29/08
I was a Kristy. Short, plain, focused, with big ideas. Bossy, but very loyal.
But I hated sports, so really, I was more of a Mary Anne. Smart, compassionate, with a serious case of lunchroom shyness.
Reebok high-tops and mismatched earrings, like a dog in one ear and a bone in the other.
To witness nostalgia in action, name-drop those book characters among a group of female 20-somethings.
"The Baby-Sitters Club" members were our Hannah Montana, our idols, friends and eventually, guilty pleasures. They were impossible combinations of relatability: mathletes, bad spellers, artistic, athletic, sophisticated, geeky, diabetic, redheaded, black, Japanese. Just like us.
Their parents were divorced, remarried, dead, perfectly stable, wealthy, out of work, exhuasted, amused. Just like ours.
Those books are a source of basement clutter and eBay sale these days, but they sparked a lifetime of reading and "Sex and the City" fandom. What break-up wasn't a grown-up version of Book No. 41, "Mary Anne vs. Logan?" What tragedy didn't shake us like Book No. 26, "Claudia and the Sad Good-bye?" The dialogue of real life is less tidy and the outfits less fabulous, but problems are familiar.
As a kid growing up in Michigan, I was a member of the BSC fan club, which sent monthly packages of books, pencils and posters in the mail.
My fascination, my dedication, peaked in fourth grade, when I wrote a letter to author Ann M. Martin for a school assignment. Other kids got autographed photos of Paula Abdul and Cecil Fielder in response to their fan mail; my letter came back from the publisher, unopened, like it'd been shuffled around and sent back when they couldn't find a person to claim it.
I came to believe Martin was a literary figment created by the publishing industry to sell books, like Betty Crocker on cookbooks or Carolyn Keene on Nancy Drew mysteries. I continued to read the BSC books until way after it was cool, but I knew the truth: Ann M. Martin, fiction.
Until last month, when I browsed the AJC's literary calendar and saw she was coming to Newnan. Real, and a short drive away.
The author lives in upstate New York and doesn't tour much with her books, but this was special. Emily Hinely, an 11-year-old from Newnan, made a collage that won a contest sponsored by the publisher of Martin's new series, "Main Street." Her prize was Martin's visit.
Emily is who I wanted to be at 11, and really, at 25: adorable, hilarious, confident, smart, ambitious, a little of all the baby-sitters. When I met her at Scott's Bookstore in Newnan, she was spinning in her new yellow skirt and sipping something sweet from a coffee date with the author. Emily's a reader, and particularly loves Martin's Newbery Honor book, "A Corner of the Universe." She loves "The Baby-Sitters Club" series, too, but "they're really hard to find because they're so old and stuff."
Which explains why I lurked at the end of the line of khaki-navy school uniforms and pigtails. The buzzing line of girls and their mothers wound through the store, but they inevitably fell silent when they approached the author. Martin's handler swore that a young fan once fainted before the author in the BSC heyday.
Martin perched behind a desk in a pink shirt and black pants, nodding to readers, signing books, chatting quietly. (Martin says she's a Mary Anne, the shy one.) A few girls asked questions but most just stared, then scurried away with books inscribed with "Read on and on," or "Thank you for introducing me to your Main Street."
Nevermind that I'm soooo old — I didn't know what to say either. My best friend warned me to plan questions ahead. And breathe. I was starting to look like a Mallory, circa BSC book 80: "Mallory Pike, No. 1 Fan."
I spilled my story — the reading, the fandom, the returned letter, the discovery in the calendar listings. Martin apologized; she does try to answer letters, but 1990 was a busy time for her. She offered insight I would've died to know around the time Spandex was a fashionable:
• "The Baby-Sitters Club" was supposed to be a four-book mini-series. When it ended its 14-year run in 2000, it was 131 books, plus additional "super specials," mysteries, spin-off series, board games, TV shows and a movie. Ghostwriters wrote later books, but it was Martin's big idea.
• At the height of BSC writing, Martin worked six days a week. She's down to four now. Mondays are for sewing, her other great passion.
• There are no plans to write more "Baby-Sitters Club" books. But there could be.
Writing for young people is different now, Martin says. "Kids certainly have a lot more interests, a lot of things that didn't exist when I started 'The Baby-Sitters Club.'"
Of course. The baby-sitters met in Claudia's room because she was the only member with her own phone line. During sleepovers, they'd watch movies taped from TV, like 1984's "Sixteen Candles" and 1961's "The Parent Trap." In what would surely be called neglect, 13-year-olds were regularly left to care for a passel of children on sailboats and in snowstorms while parents disappeared for days. Seems almost quaint.
But to young readers, to be a teen was the height of awesomeness, whether you were a Kristy or a Claudia.
Facebook, Nintendo Wii, helicopter parenting and pregnant Nickelodeon stars?
All very real to the young readers now. But Emily and all the other girls stretched out on couch and carpet at Scott's Bookstore had their eyes in their books, their minds on where, what and who they'll be next.
By JAMIE GUMBRECHT
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 05/29/08
I was a Kristy. Short, plain, focused, with big ideas. Bossy, but very loyal.
But I hated sports, so really, I was more of a Mary Anne. Smart, compassionate, with a serious case of lunchroom shyness.
Reebok high-tops and mismatched earrings, like a dog in one ear and a bone in the other.
To witness nostalgia in action, name-drop those book characters among a group of female 20-somethings.
"The Baby-Sitters Club" members were our Hannah Montana, our idols, friends and eventually, guilty pleasures. They were impossible combinations of relatability: mathletes, bad spellers, artistic, athletic, sophisticated, geeky, diabetic, redheaded, black, Japanese. Just like us.
Their parents were divorced, remarried, dead, perfectly stable, wealthy, out of work, exhuasted, amused. Just like ours.
Those books are a source of basement clutter and eBay sale these days, but they sparked a lifetime of reading and "Sex and the City" fandom. What break-up wasn't a grown-up version of Book No. 41, "Mary Anne vs. Logan?" What tragedy didn't shake us like Book No. 26, "Claudia and the Sad Good-bye?" The dialogue of real life is less tidy and the outfits less fabulous, but problems are familiar.
As a kid growing up in Michigan, I was a member of the BSC fan club, which sent monthly packages of books, pencils and posters in the mail.
My fascination, my dedication, peaked in fourth grade, when I wrote a letter to author Ann M. Martin for a school assignment. Other kids got autographed photos of Paula Abdul and Cecil Fielder in response to their fan mail; my letter came back from the publisher, unopened, like it'd been shuffled around and sent back when they couldn't find a person to claim it.
I came to believe Martin was a literary figment created by the publishing industry to sell books, like Betty Crocker on cookbooks or Carolyn Keene on Nancy Drew mysteries. I continued to read the BSC books until way after it was cool, but I knew the truth: Ann M. Martin, fiction.
Until last month, when I browsed the AJC's literary calendar and saw she was coming to Newnan. Real, and a short drive away.
The author lives in upstate New York and doesn't tour much with her books, but this was special. Emily Hinely, an 11-year-old from Newnan, made a collage that won a contest sponsored by the publisher of Martin's new series, "Main Street." Her prize was Martin's visit.
Emily is who I wanted to be at 11, and really, at 25: adorable, hilarious, confident, smart, ambitious, a little of all the baby-sitters. When I met her at Scott's Bookstore in Newnan, she was spinning in her new yellow skirt and sipping something sweet from a coffee date with the author. Emily's a reader, and particularly loves Martin's Newbery Honor book, "A Corner of the Universe." She loves "The Baby-Sitters Club" series, too, but "they're really hard to find because they're so old and stuff."
Which explains why I lurked at the end of the line of khaki-navy school uniforms and pigtails. The buzzing line of girls and their mothers wound through the store, but they inevitably fell silent when they approached the author. Martin's handler swore that a young fan once fainted before the author in the BSC heyday.
Martin perched behind a desk in a pink shirt and black pants, nodding to readers, signing books, chatting quietly. (Martin says she's a Mary Anne, the shy one.) A few girls asked questions but most just stared, then scurried away with books inscribed with "Read on and on," or "Thank you for introducing me to your Main Street."
Nevermind that I'm soooo old — I didn't know what to say either. My best friend warned me to plan questions ahead. And breathe. I was starting to look like a Mallory, circa BSC book 80: "Mallory Pike, No. 1 Fan."
I spilled my story — the reading, the fandom, the returned letter, the discovery in the calendar listings. Martin apologized; she does try to answer letters, but 1990 was a busy time for her. She offered insight I would've died to know around the time Spandex was a fashionable:
• "The Baby-Sitters Club" was supposed to be a four-book mini-series. When it ended its 14-year run in 2000, it was 131 books, plus additional "super specials," mysteries, spin-off series, board games, TV shows and a movie. Ghostwriters wrote later books, but it was Martin's big idea.
• At the height of BSC writing, Martin worked six days a week. She's down to four now. Mondays are for sewing, her other great passion.
• There are no plans to write more "Baby-Sitters Club" books. But there could be.
Writing for young people is different now, Martin says. "Kids certainly have a lot more interests, a lot of things that didn't exist when I started 'The Baby-Sitters Club.'"
Of course. The baby-sitters met in Claudia's room because she was the only member with her own phone line. During sleepovers, they'd watch movies taped from TV, like 1984's "Sixteen Candles" and 1961's "The Parent Trap." In what would surely be called neglect, 13-year-olds were regularly left to care for a passel of children on sailboats and in snowstorms while parents disappeared for days. Seems almost quaint.
But to young readers, to be a teen was the height of awesomeness, whether you were a Kristy or a Claudia.
Facebook, Nintendo Wii, helicopter parenting and pregnant Nickelodeon stars?
All very real to the young readers now. But Emily and all the other girls stretched out on couch and carpet at Scott's Bookstore had their eyes in their books, their minds on where, what and who they'll be next.
And the link to the article about the girl winning the visit: www.ajc.com/living/content/living/stories/2008/05/01/author.html
