My last book in Chicago Review Press’s Women of Action series publishes soon. I’m supposed to write something to generate interest, so here’s a three-word spiel: Read my book. Now that’s over, here’s a bit more info: this is the second edition of Women Heroes of World War II, a book that has sold pretty well for YA nonfiction, and which I was in the thick of writing exactly ten summers ago. I’m into dates and anniversaries (go figure) so to begin this post I’m going to wind back the clock one more year to the spring of 2008, when I first met Lisa Reardon, my longtime editor. While making a decidedly unsuccessful attempt to musically engage her daughter at the Steckman Studio of Music in Oak Park, I discovered that Lisa was an acquisitions editor for the Chicago Review Press and that she wanted to initiate a young adult women’s history series (Women of Action). Multiple emails and a few months later I signed a contract to write Women Heroes of World War II, the first book in the WOA series.
Energized by this new outlet for my intense desire to research and write, I was also terrified that one or two of the multitudinous facts I was juggling might escape my grasp and crash to the floor. Still, every day I plugged away, always feeling as if I was walking a few feet above the ground, thoroughly inspired by these women who were willing to court death (or worse) in their personal battles against European fascism.
Though invigorating, the effort also proved to be physically taxing, so by the time I handed Lisa the corrected proofs, her suggestion for a prequel book was met with a deafening silence. When my energy returned, I found other reasons for not jumping into a second collective biography. First, I had no idea if the first book would be well-received enough to merit a greenlight for a second. And after writing about Josephine Baker, Sophie Scholl, and Nancy Wake, et al, what historical woman could possible interest me enough to take up the pen again?
There were quite a few, actually. To them in a moment. After it published on March 1, 2011, Women Heroes of WWII received a few obscure but ardent awards (ever heard of The Amelia Bloomer Project, a subgroup of the ALA Social Responsibilities Round Table’s Feminist Task Force? I hadn’t either). Those nods and the generally positive reviews, professional and otherwise, made me realize that I’d been successful enough to write again.
All the books that followed were filled with stories of phenomenally inspiring women who did their best during their nation’s darkest hours: Pearl Witherington, the ultra-calm accidental leader of a French resistance network whose story was included in the first book and whose memoirs I later had the honor of editing; Gabrielle Petit, the First World War Belgian spy who went to a German firing squad defiantly singing the praises of king and country; Louise de Bettignies, who inspired Pearl Witherington and with whom my husband nearly fell in love while he translated the brilliant intelligence organizer’s French language biographical material (It’s ok—she’s dead, our marriage is strong, she had that effect on everyone except maybe the Germans, and I have something to tease John about for the rest of our lives); Elizabeth Choy, the devout and indefatigable Singaporean who wouldn’t lie to her Japanese tormentors, even to save her own life; Aussie nurse Vivian Bullwinkle, the sole and accidental survivor of the Banka Island Massacre; the lovely and compassionate Jane Kendeigh who became the first US Navy flight nurse to land on Iwo Jima and Okinawa; the undaunted and enterprising Dickie Chapelle, who cut her journalistic teeth on the same two islands; Dang Thuy Tram and Lynda Van Devanter, two compassionate medics who worked frantically to save lives on opposites sides of the Vietnam War.
While I’m sure there are more fascinating women of history to be discovered, the last two books, though well-reviewed, haven’t sold nearly as well as the earlier titles. And Lisa--my editor, mentor, collaborator, and friend--no longer works at Chicago Review Press. I received the email bearing this devastating news while I was working on the new chapters for this last book. After absorbing the shock, I returned to my work with the sinking realization that Lisa would not be taking an official editorial look at what I was writing. (The other editors were fine. They just weren’t Lisa.)
I’m grateful for the opportunities of this past decade (and the lengthy acknowledgement section of my last book exhaustively proves this point). Staring down the future without a contract or a highly collaborative editor was, for a few months, a bit terrifying. But I’m finally enjoying my deadline- and contract-free life as I wake up each day to write in sync with the promptings of John Milton’s “heavenly muse” (no, I’m not attempting another Paradise Lost, but one could make the case for a connection). I’m merely staying on top of my craft, prepared for whatever comes next. You might call me a Woman of Action.
Oh, and read my book. Or all of them.
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