Margaret Willey

January and February are my most important months for composing new work. The holidays recede and life grows quiet on the family front and the cold and stillness of lower Michigan keep me indoors and introspective. It is a good time for memory work and a good time to experiment. I work in my kitchen because my office gets too cold and I really like working in my kitchen from where I can see snow, wind, deer, squirrels and early darkness, stars, sometimes the moon. In the past few years, I have gotten more comfortable with working late at night--something I never did when I was younger. For decades it was always morning, morning, morning. Now I sometimes feel the most alive in my writing after dark, including the last few hours of my day. A good lesson--all habits can change and change can be liberating. This particular January, I caught the winter flu from my granddaughter during the holidays. Beatrice was sick for 3 days, Grandmother was sick for 3 weeks. Bronchitis and a relentless cough. All schedules and routines set aside. Insomnia from cold medicine and coughing. Except that I was never too sick to write and I wrote all the time because there was little else to do. An occasional streamed movie or series to break up the days, but mostly I was in the inner world of my story. I am working on a new novel, maybe middle-grade, not sure, about a quintet of mermaid sisters. Somehow the combination of minor illness and total seclusion created a great outpouring of new pages. In the stillness, I heard the voices of the mermaid sisters very clearly. My health issues made it possible for me to say no to everything but these female voices. A strange and beautiful January so far. Time re-invented. The drama of my own imagination. Health returns, I feel better and oddly grateful for these past weeks and all that they brought me.  Read More 

Isn’t there something about our climate here in West Michigan, its extremes and intemperance, that makes it harder to live fully in the now? Aren’t we always waiting for a thaw or a storm, watching the sky for signs of rain, or a break in the heat, or a perfect beach day, or the brief spectacle of the leaves turning?
And isn’t there something about the persistence of memory, our unique paths, our most secret struggles, our regrets, our wounds from another time that makes it hard to stay grounded in the present moment and not journey back?
And isn’t there something about the January requisite to plan and organize, to clean out drawers, to budget and keep up with old and new bills, to catalogue the main events of the coming year—birthdays, holidays, surgeries, pregnancies, taxes, visitors, travel, loved ones who may need us—that makes it hard to feel that our most crucial appointment is with the present moment?
January, month of dichotomies—month of both rebirth and hibernation, both stillness and projection, both reclamation of the inner life and commitment to others, both treacherous highways and joyful sledding hills. The hardness of ice and the softness of new snow.  Read More 

From the Horn Book, Fall 2014, an essay about CAMILLA and the long view of writing for teenagers. Read it here


"CAMILLA is narrated by a princess, one who lives with her parents in a New York City penthouse. The novel was published long before there was a young adult genre as we know it today, but it contains all the elements of the classic YAs of the late twentieth century — a journey out of childhood, a hypersensitive girl, a pace providing ample time for deep reflection. The reader participates in a clean, well-documented metamorphosis, wisely told by a girl who embodies the most cherished aspects of twentieth-century female adolescence — at least in literature: hope, compassion, and a fearless, unflinching honesty."  Read More 

I am so easily distracted by news about my novel, this Beetle nightmare novel that dropped on Sept. 1. This novel I expected to be ignored (no false modesty here. Very proud of the novel, but it doesn't fit into any neat or currently popular categories). I have had so many wonderful things happen already, among them the starred reviews (see my home page), the book's appearance on several "recommended" lists, the Publishers Weekly pick of the week mention and several thoughtful blog reviews. And so I have been scattered and unfocused by all of this positive reception and unable to settle back into my two current projects--my essay collection about the fairy tales of my childhood and my husband's unfolding memoir of growing up in Canada with Quebecois parents and grandparents (which I am happily ghostwriting).
But I have all day today! And I have all day tomorrow! I have two more essay that are near-completion. That will be my goal for the weekend--finish! And move on. And stay away from the social media roller coaster and get back in the cave and come out only to eat.  Read More 

Everyone I show Beetle Boy to remarks on the book's design. Everyone! I am so proud of how it looks and so grateful to the design team at Carolrhoda Lab. The cover is stunning with its raised purple on the beetle and the shiny white of the background. It is without a doubt the most artfully designed book of my entire career. Read More 

My editor at Carolrhoda Lab posted a wonderful blog last week about the special gifts of what he called "the long view," a nice way of commending older writers who continue bringing unique visions to their sometimes formulaic genres. He also commends The Horn Book Magazine for its historic reach and appreciation for good literature regardless of trends. The blog is here.

Thank you to Andrew Karre at Carolrhoda Lab Books. Read More 

This is the crux of my writing life; sharing stories for children, bringing to life the power of books and words and poems and stories. This is my granddaughter Beatrice, named after my husband's mother, who was the inspiration for my CLEVER BEATRICE books. No matter what I write, no matter how it is received, the moment captured in this photo in August is at the beating heart of all my work. It is fleeting and ordinary. It means everything to me. Read More 

Publishers Weekly has given Beetle Boy a starred review. "A potent story about the power that the past exerts on the present." A young man haunted by flashbacks of his powerless childhood. And by his nightmares. Struggle and redemption. No easy answers. Read the review in its entirely hereRead More 

My new YA novel BEETLE BOY belongs somewhere between what we know as young adult fiction, and literary fiction that deals with childhood trauma. Several friends who have read the novel--authors themselves--asked me why it was published as a YA novel. And part of the answer lies in the grey area of fiction for teens that is Carolrhoda Lab.

I am very lucky to be part of the Carolrhoda Lab family, and I use the term 'family' with intentional irony. Andrew Karre, my editor at CL (he also edited Four Secrets, 2012) has created a list of YA's that flourish in the aforementioned grey area, particularly the novels on the list that are realistic and contemporary (Carrie Mesrobian's SEX AND VIOLENCES, 2013 and Blythe Woolston's FREAK OBSERVER, 2011 are two highly acclaimed examples). Carolrhoda Lab is Karre's imprint and part of the umbrella publishing company that is Lerner Books, based in Minneapolis, and including many other imprints and presses. Here is their home page. More specifically, the home page for Carolrhoda Lab is here.

When people ask me this question (why YA?), I can't help but think that some readers assume I have a category firmly in mind when I write a novel like BEETLE BOY. I do not. A story germinates and surfaces and unfolds. The focus sharpens. The pages slowly become novel-length. I don't think about genre. That comes later, if at all. My recent work is alive and kicking the grey area between adult fiction and edgy YA fiction and I am strangely and ironically comfortable here, ironic because I am so much farther from adolescence than when I began writing for teenagers 30 years ago.

BEETLE BOY is necessarily harsh. Reviewers have described it as "demanding," "riveting," and "chilling." It is from my heart of darkness and is not meant for children or pre-teens or any reader who prefers fantasy realms and happy endings. But yes, absolutely, it is a YA novel.  Read More 

August has been memorable for me because unlike most Augusts, I have been working in my office full time. Even on the weekends, I worked hard and faithfully. Partly this was because I have been engrossed in a particularly meaningful editing job. But also I have been tinkering with my childhood essays for a collection. Each essay focuses on a particular fairy tale and how it connects to my very real childhood (how it took hold of me and didn't let go). These essays have been a joy to write and rewrite because they involve old obsessions, childhood fears and longings, some of which are still part of my day to day life. Here are a few of the tales I am drawing from: Thumbelina, Jack the Giant Killer, The Little Mermaid, The Handless Maiden, The Little Match Girl.

In my introduction, I discuss being the helpful daughter who cleaned the family bathroom for cash (a for-hire Cinderella) and how I am still recovering.  Read More