Showing posts with label Plant a Pocket of Prairie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Plant a Pocket of Prairie. Show all posts

Monday, May 26, 2014

Inkpot Interviews: Phyllis Root



Phyllis Root's latest book, Plant a Pocket of Prairie, was published by the University of Minnesota Press. It was released this month.

Please describe the book.
Plant a Pocket of Prairie is a non-fiction picture book about planting native prairie plants, with gorgeous woodblock illustrations by Betsy Bowen.

What research was involved, and how did it affect the story’s development?
I wrote a Minnesota counting book several years ago about the different ecosystems in Minnesota, where three biomes meet: Big Woods, boreal forest, and prairie. Doing research for the book meant many visits to Minnesota’s Scientific and Natural Areas to learn about native plants and animals (something I still love to do). I wanted to write a book about the prairie partly because it’s one of our most endangered ecosystems, partly because it’s so amazing and complex and lovely, and partly because I love the names of the flowers and plants that grow in a prairie. What’s not to love about foxglove beardtongue or bastard toadflax? I wrote a lot of failed drafts over several years before I found the focus for the book and figured out an arc. Along with visiting prairie, I’ve talked to naturalists, read many books, and gone to hear speakers to learn more about the prairie and make sure my information is as accurate as I can possibly make it. 

Moon Tiger,
your first book, was published in 1984. What have you learned about the business of writing since then?
I’ve been at this job for thirty years and until the last few years have written mostly fiction. I’ve learned that there are no certainties, that it really is hard to make a living from writing, and that if you don’t love what you are doing, you will probably end up doing something else. I’m very lucky to still be doing what I love.

If very good friends are visiting for one evening, do you cook or go to a restaurant? If the former, what would you cook? If the latter, what restaurant?

If friends came and I felt daring enough to attempt cooking for them (and they felt daring enough to eat what I cooked), I might try something new like the recipe for fresh fig salad a friend just gave me, or I might go with something tried and true like squash lasagna. If they came in the summertime, I’d check the garden for whatever was ripe. If we went out to eat, I might take them to LeVain’s for wine and soup and salad and sides or to Emily’s for Lebanese food. Mostly I’d do whatever would make them the most comfortable.
 

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Click here to read more about Phyllis's many other books.


Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Faculty Voices: Phyllis Root



Phyllis Root
The things we do for love

I’m currently working on promoting my new picture book Plant a Pocket of Prairie. As a raging introvert I’ve always loathed promotion. Talk to people you don’t know about how great your book is? Just the thought makes me curl up in a ball and whimper.

But I realized something with this book: I want people to love the prairie, not in a “aren’t the wildflowers pretty?” way but by understanding something of the complexity of prairie plants and animals in this vital and vanishing ecosystem and how even the small act of planting a seed might make a small difference. 

So I’m writing a reader’s guide for kindergartners. I’m gathering planting supplies for a planting project at book signings. I’m compiling photos of the prairie flowers I’ve seen for a very brief television interview. I’m practicing staying calm. I’m doing things I don’t normally do, and I’m doing it for love. You can’t love what you don’t know, and I want people to know and love the prairie.

I fell in love with a bog and wrote about it. I fell in love with the tall white pines in the Lost Forty and wrote about them. I have been in love with the prairie ever since I discovered it wasn’t just a field full of pretty flowers.

Most of all, for most of my life, I have been in love with words.

Love for what you are doing can carry you through the inevitable excruciating, sometimes hopeless, seemingless endless times. Love your words. Love your characters. Love your stories, painful or funny. Love your writing, even on the days (and I had many this past winter) when you must drag yourself to the page or the keyboard, when you hate what you’ve written and by extension everything about your life. 

Sometimes love is the only thing worth getting out of bed for.