Q: It’s amazing how something as simple as intriguing chapter titles can add dimension (and fun!) to a story. What drew you to use collective nouns — terms used to describe groups, in this case groups of animals — in the chapter titles?
A: While I was researching a book on baby animal names some years ago, I came across many collective nouns and began keeping a file of them. I didn’t know what I might specifically do with them someday, but I loved the language and the imagery of the phrases. I knew early in the writing of Becoming Naomi León that Naomi was a list maker. Then to my surprise and delight, she became a soap carver of animals! So in my mind, it was a natural consequence that she might love to copy a list of collective nouns. The first words in the collective nouns especially fascinated me . . . a paddling, a skulk, a lamentation, a memory, a charm, a shiver. So many of them can be read as verbs, which I loved, and there are thousands from which to choose. As the book developed, certain words applied to the chapters. How these correlations all synthesized in my brain is a mystery to me.
Q: Naomi Soledad León Outlaw is quite a memorable name. Where did her name come from?
A: I spoke at a school some years ago and afterward signed books in the library according to the names on the order forms. One of the orders indicated I should sign a book to Naomi Outlaw. Although I never met the student in person, I loved the name immediately and never forgot it. At some point, I began wondering about how a girl would grow into or out of that name — how she might have possibly been meek and then became courageous.
Q: Naomi believes that her name causes her a lot of grief. Did you ever wish or imagine that your name was different?
A: Now, I must make a confession. My middle name is Jeanne and I always thought it was rather plain, so when I was a freshman in high school, I told my new best friend that it was pronounced “Janay.” I thought it sounded very French or Basque or exotic. She always called me Pamela “Janay.” It was years later that I admitted to her that it was just a dramatic fancy of mine and that my name was really pronounced the plain, regular way.
Q: Have you ever done any carving yourself? Any advice?
A: When I was a young girl, I once carved soap as an activity at Camp Fire Girls. While writing the book, I carved several pieces. One was a rudimentary little bear. The other was my son’s initials, all connected, which wasn’t as easy as it sounds. I also tried a duck. It does seem to help to unwrap the soap and allow it to dry out for a day or two. It doesn’t crumble as easily. I found it helpful to carve over a small plastic salad bowl to catch the shavings. Also, I often started out with the intention of carving one thing, not doing very well, and saying, “Oh well, it can be a little whale.” Then as I progressed and that didn’t go well, I’d say, “Oh well, this can be a little fish.” Then it ended up a duck. I’m not nearly as accomplished or as talented as Naomi!
Q: In this story when Santiago talks about carving, he says, “When the promise does not reveal itself early, your imagination must dictate your intentions. Then the wood, or the soap, it will become what you least expect. Sometimes the wood fools me. I think I am carving a parrot, and when I am finished it has a fish tail. Or I begin a tiger, and in the end it has the body of a dancer.” Do you find this to be true about writing as well?
A:Yes, writing often fools me. When I start a book, I don’t have a formula for getting from the blank page to a rough draft. The characters usually come first and I often follow their lead, letting scenes play out in my mind. I discard many scenes and write down the others. For me, writing isn’t so much a process as it is an evolution. One thing leads to another.
Naomi liked carving, so she carved, and the more she carved the more skilled she became at carving and the more fun she had with it. This idea is true about writing or drawing or putting on a play — each takes time and thought and inspiration, and has many rewards. Below, Pam Muñoz Ryan shares some tips on writing, but really these tips can be applied to painting or drawing, acting or carving — it’s all about being creative.
1. Play. Do it every day and pretend often. Dress up and act out. Dramatic play will help you understand the concept of story.
2. Look. Take in the details of your environment. Listen to how people speak, notice names . . . and if something really strikes you, write it down; maybe you’ll be able to use it in a story later.
3. Read. Read books, newspapers, magazines, or comic books. Reading helps you think. And experiencing other people’s writing will help you develop your own writing and give you ideas for your own stories.
4. Write (or draw or carve or act). Don’t worry how it sounds (or looks) at first. A first draft is nothing more than something to fix, something to change, something to make better.
5. Rewrite. Don’t be afraid to change something once it’s on the page; creating anything is an evolution.
6. Be quiet. Spend time with your own wandering thoughts and then write down what you are thinking. Let your brain be quiet and breathe some of the time, away from television and video games.
7. Check out A Writer’s Notebook: Unlocking the Writer Within You by Ralph Fletcher. It talks about keeping a “writer’s notebook,” which Fletcher explains is “not a diary” but a place to write down imaginings, observations, doodles, keep interesting articles, copy quotes — a place to gather ideas and information so you don’t forget them. It’s an invaluable source for any creative act.
Oaxaca, she is a city of magic and surprises . . .
In 1997 while on a business trip, I was browsing in an airport bookstore and came across a book about Oaxacan wood carving. I was (and still am) interested in Mexican folk art, so I bought the book to read while traveling. Inside was a one-line mention of La Noche de los Rábanos, the Night of the Radishes, the evening when many Oaxacan wood carvers come into the capital city to carve elaborate scenes out of giant radishes. I was curious about this festival and wanted to find out more, but at that time there was very little information available. I became so intrigued that, in December of that year, I traveled to Oaxaca City in Oaxaca, Mexico, with one of my daughters and some friends to experience this spectacle.
We stayed in a hotel in Barrio Jalatlaco that was thirteen blocks from el zócalo (the town square), and we walked to El Mercado de la Merced for groceries. We were invited to participate in a neighborhood posada, a Christmas tradition that reenacts Mary and Joseph’s journey to find shelter, and we experienced the magic and mystery surrounding the Night of the Radishes on December 23. This cultural celebration includes the radishcarving competition, music, food, shopping, and fireworks. The festival lasts from early morning until late at night. In order to generate interest and to inspire the younger generation to continue this event, local children are encouraged to attend a city-run art class a few weeks before the festival, to learn about radish carving. The children’s competition leads off the festival first thing in the morning, and the prize for their division is often a new bicycle.
Today, the government grows large radishes especially for the festival in fields near the city. For many families or groups of friends, the Night of the Radishes has become a tradition.
After the trip, I knew that someday I wanted to include this romantic festival in a book. I didn’t know if I would write a nonfiction book or a picture book or a novel. Then I began writing about a young, half-Mexican list maker named Naomi Outlaw, and in my mind, she evolved into a soap carver. One thing led to another, and the festival began to lend itself to Naomi’s story.
Radish carving at La Noche de los Rábanos, the Night of the Radishes.
As a soap carver of animals with a penchant for list making, it’s no wonder Naomi was intrigued by collective nouns. And it is no coincidence that Pam Muñoz Ryan used collective nouns as chapter titles throughout the book: a paddling of ducks, a shiver of sharks, a pride of lions, to name a few.
So what is a collective noun exactly? A collective noun is a name for a group of people, objects, or animals. For example: a board of docto
rs, a bunch of carrots, or a gaggle of geese. Collective nouns are specific to particular groups, but a group can often have more than one collective noun, for instance, a pride of lions or a troop of lions. You might say a flock of sheep or a flock of goats or a flock of seagulls, but it’s unlikely that anyone would refer to a flock of gnats or a flock of goldfish.
In the following lists, can you identify which words go together to create the intended collective nouns?
1. a mute of
2. a lodge of
3. a troop of
4. a nest of
5. a huddle of
6. a passel of
7. a tower of
8. a cloud of
9. a glint of
10. a knot of beavers
penguins
gnats
possum
toads
hounds
mice
lions
giraffes
goldfish
Answers
1. a mute of hounds 2. a lodge of beavers 3. a troop of lions 4. a nest of mice 5. a huddle of penguins 6. a passel of possums 7. a tower of giraffes 8. a cloud of gnats 8. a glinth of goldfish 10. a knot of toads
At the Night of the Radishes festival, Naomi, Owen, and Gram enjoyed buñuelos, a favorite traditional dessert in Mexico, often served at Christmas time with either a sweet syrup or a cinnamon-and-sugar mixture. These buñuelos are an easy and tasty treat to make.
You will need adult supervision to make them because of the hot oil.
Ingredients
1⁄4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 cup vegetable oil
1 package flour tortillas
1. Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl and set aside.
2. Heat vegetable oil in a frying pan to 375º over medium-high heat.
3. Place a flour tortilla in the hot oil. (Cook only 1 tortilla at a time.) Cook approximately 30 seconds on each side, until golden brown. Use tongs to turn tortillas. (Note: The tortilla will puff up as it cooks.)
4. Remove the tortilla from the oil and place it on paper towels to drain.
5. While still hot, sprinkle with the cinnamon-and-sugar mixture. Enjoy!
“I pulled the knife across the bar of Nature’s Pure White. The soap sloughed off easy in the bowl, looking like shredded white cheese. I scraped an arc, finishing off the curve of the back and up the tail. The dry film on my hands felt like a thin glove . . . ‘I imagine what’s inside and take away what I don’t need. . . .’”
Here’s how you can learn to carve soap like Naomi.
What you will need:
• Newspapers or a tray or a bowl (something to catch the soap shavings)
• Scissors
• Craft sticks (aka Popsicle sticks)
• A bar (or bars) of Ivory or Pure and Natural soap that will need to be aired out overnight (see steps 1 and 2, below)
• Pencil or ballpoint pen
• Sheet of paper
• Tracing paper (optional)
1. Using your scissors, cut off the tip of your craft stick at an angle, creating a point.
2. Unwrap the soap. Using the long edge of a craft stick, scrape the logo from each side of the bar so that you will have a flat surface.
3. Let the soap air out overnight.
4. Draw or trace a design (from below or create your own) onto a piece of paper. Remember, the design should be no larger than your bar of soap. Or you can carve without a pattern and create your own abstract design.
5. Place the piece of paper with the design against the broad, flat side of the soap. Using a ballpoint pen or a pencil, trace the outline of the design, pressing hard so it will leave an impression on your soap.
6. Following the basic rectangular shape of the soap, block out your design (see example of lion on next page). Using the side edge of the angled craft stick, cut away the soap you don’t need in thin layers. (Note: Cutting away too much at once will likely cause your soap to crumble apart.)
7. Once the basic angles have been established, start rounding your form. Keep turning your piece, working evenly and from all angles.
Some tips to keep in mind:
• If your hands get hot and sweaty, your soap might melt. To minimize this, occasionally put your soap down, wipe your hands on a clean, dry towel, and/or hold it from different positions.
• Avoid touching your face when handling soap; you don’t want to get soap in your eyes or mouth.
• Work slowly; once an area is carved away you can’t reattach it.
• It can be helpful to have more than one bar of soap to work with at a time. The first can be used for practice, to get a feel for soap carving, without having to worry about how it will turn out.
Copyright © 2004 by Pam Muñoz Ryan.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC, AFTER WORDS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
This edition first printing, June 2007
Cover art © 2007 by Raúl Colón
Cover design by Marijka Kostiw
e-ISBN 978-0-545-53232-7
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Pam Muñoz Ryan, Becoming Naomi Leon
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