Iceberg Alley, the Book

And it’s done!

One of my projects during IODP Expedition 382 Iceberg Alley was to create a book that could be used as an educational resource related to our science. Through my communications with the public, I’ve realized many people don’t know the difference between land ice and sea ice. (E.g., “Are icebergs frozen seawater?”) I wondered, how can we convey the importance of Exp 382 work, if people—both kids and adults—don’t really understand how an iceberg forms and its relationship to the ice sheet? So, I set out to make something I hoped would appeal to and inform a broad audience.

At sea, I did the research and writing and sketched out illustration ideas for this and a similar picture book.

Thumbnails in the JOIDES Resolution core lab.

While I did a little painting at sea, I really needed to be back in my studio to successfully create the illustrations for this book, which are a mix of watercolors and watercolor collage. This process requires frequent movement between my art table and my desk — and lots of mess. When you combine this with how much time I sit staring into space and/or pacing, making these kinds of illustrations was not very practical in the shared spaces of a medium-sized research vessel in the heaving Southern Ocean!

Watercolors in the JOIDES Resolution conference room

Since I returned 5 weeks ago, I’ve been mainly working on this project. The transition from life on the Southern Ocean to regular life has its challenges—and there’s a particular kind of letdown that comes with it. (I’ve now successfully deposited two massive chunks of my soul in the Antarctic.) So, I feel exceptionally lucky to have spent a month painting, writing about, and thinking about the polar environment I love so much and processing all I experienced at sea.

Back in my studio

I loved making this book, and I hope it entices people to learn more about Antarctic ice and how Climate Change is affecting it.

This book will soon be available as a free resource from JOIDESResolution.org. It is dedicated to the brilliant, tireless, lovely scientists of Expedition 382.

It's Late November?

I’ve been a little quiet, I know. But it’s to be expected. This week, I finished illustrations for Volcano Dreams—A Story of Yellowstone by Janet Fox, a lyrical nonfiction book about the Yellowstone supervolcano and the park’s fauna, which will be published by Web of Life Children’s Books on September 25th, 2018.

What a great experience! I couldn’t have asked for better people to work with or a more fun and challenging subject. I had a tight deadline on this project, which also took me to Yellowstone National Park in June for a week of research and observation. In 6 days, I visited nearly every part of the park, and most of them twice.

Marmot, Sheepeater Cliffs, Yellowstone NP                         Copyright © Marlo Garnsworthy 2017

What a place! If you have never been, I hope you’ll put it on your list. It’s no wonder Janet, who knows the park intimately, would be so inspired to write about it. I also had the lovely experience of staying with Janet in Bozeman, Montana, for a couple of nights, where we got to know each other and discussed the book. As we get closer to publication, I’ll share more about the creative process that has brought this book into being.

While I’ve had to put my Antarctica book project(s) aside, I’ve launch Polar Bird, my new science communication blog. It’s the natural out-springing of my work on the SNOWBIRDS Transect research cruise earlier this year, which was nothing short of life-changing. As well as documenting my adventures with scientists working in the field, I’m sharing what I’m learn about our extraordinary polar regions. I hope people will come to appreciate the icy poles even a fraction of how much I love them. I hope you’ll fly by and take a peek!

Adélie penguins on blue iceberg, Ross Sea, Antarctica               Copyright © Marlo Garnsworthy

But I’m excited to return to my Antarctica book(s). Today, I cleaned out my office/studio (which meant recycling an embarrassing amount of paper) and prepared The Board.

The Board awaits!

The Board sits in my line of sight, a constant inspiration, reminder, and accountability tool for whatever I’m working on. I took down the storyboard and progress charts for Volcano Dreams. It will soon be filled with Post-it notes, inspirational pictures, and research-y bits and pieces. I can’t wait!

Science via Magic—Meeting Jane Goodall

Earlier this week, I was thrilled to meet Jane Goodall. After her inspiring talk at the University of Rhode Island, I lined up with hundreds of others to have her sign a copy of her book, Reason for Hope, and have my photo taken with her. 

But it was not the first time we had met.  

Some people have asked me to tell how this came about, so here goes:

1.       It was 1992, I was living in Tokyo, and one day, I saw a flyer in the supermarket (this was before the Internet) saying that Jane Goodall was coming to speak. I was disappointed I couldn’t go.

2.       As well as teaching English, I babysat for expat families. A few days later, on the bookshelf in one home, I saw books by Goodall, all signed with personal messages.

3.       When the parents got home, I asked about the books and said Jane Goodall had always been my hero.

4.       “We’re friends with her. In fact, she’s coming to stay with us tomorrow. Would you like to meet her?”

It has always felt so magical that I was in just the right place at the right time. I went there for an extended afternoon tea, and Jane invited me to come back the next day. So, I did. She is even lovelier one-on-one than she appears on the screen.   

At that point in my life, I was struggling to find my way. Her generosity in helping me sort through some stuff and point myself in the general right direction was no less than life-changing. I came away from the experience clutching two promises, determined I’d fulfill them.

The first promise I fulfilled within a couple of years. I’ve been living it ever since, though it has certainly had its trials. But her example helped me give myself permission to follow my dream. (Back then, I thought I knew what my dream was, but felt I should probably do something more conventional first. I inexpertly expressed “conventional” as a degree in archaeology, living in Japan, then a stint in outdoor education, before I knuckled down and worked in restaurants while pursuing that long-desired career in kid-lit.)

But finding my way to keeping the second promise, which required further exploring the first promise, has taken me along winding paths, brushing past the obvious as I hurtled into various dead-ends. That was until earlier this year when I knew I was finally fulfilling it. (Isn’t it funny how something can be staring you in the face all along but be so difficult to truly grasp—until you’re suddenly ready?) To say I’ve been longing for some years to tell Jane how grateful I am—especially for the promises that have steered my life’s course—is an understatement. So, it seems quite magical that I should be given that rare chance and with such perfect timing.  

But I’m just one person affected by my experiences with her. Jane’s extraordinary empathy and spirit continue to touch so many apes—both the chimpanzees and us human apes. I hope you’ll watch her talk at URI.

Check out and consider supporting The Jane Goodall Institute and Roots & Shoots.

And my second promise? Well, I'll just say it has led me to my work on the SNOWBIRDS Transect research cruise, my illustration of Volcano Dreams by Janet Fox (coming next year from Web of Life Children’s Books), and my new science, art, and adventure blog. 

Thanks for reading.

And thank you, Jane.

Regarding Class & Crit Groups

Last night was the final class of my picture book writing course, which is always a little bittersweet. You get attached to people’s stories and the personalities who created them. The final night always feels like my last opportunity to equip them with all they’ll need as they step from the safety of the class environment into the wider world of publishing. We talked about interpreting rejection letters and how to deal with their sting, and we watched the interview with Kate diCamillo embedded in my Rejection blog post.

This year, the course went from 8 weeks to 12, which pleased me to no end. I was thrilled to spend not just one but three weeks delving deeper into narrative structure—very well-spent time laying a solid foundation for a strong manuscript. Extra weeks also allowed me to try a number of new activities and exercises, which was great fun for me and, I hope, beneficial for them.

It was also quite wonderful to spend extra time with such an engaged, supportive, talented, and lovely group with a wide variety of stories. I will miss it. We also discussed things they felt they’d miss about the class environment, which we developed into a list of qualities we think are important in a critique group:

Most of those are likely self-explanatory, but “awareness of wider stuff” means learning more about the world and ourselves by exploring each other’s work, which is just what we set out to help children do, isn’t it? It was a really thoughtful addition to our list.

And “sharing the crazy”? Well, maybe that’s the most important part. It is for me, anyway. Having real friends and a support team who truly understand why we started—and then continue—this inspiring, maddening, manic, rejection-filled, brilliant journey without us ever having to explain it or plead its case. Kindred folk who “get” it. Our people.

Did we miss anything from our list? What would you add or highlight?

I want to end by saying to my latest batch of Rizzies, thank you, it’s been such a pleasure.