Thursday, August 29, 2013
Little Feathers: One of the Really Great Ideas
Little Feathers: One of the Really Great Ideas: I think I have discovered what may be God's best idea ever. Kids. Children. Second graders at Enos Garcia Elementary, to give perfect ex...
One of the Really Great Ideas
I think I have discovered what may be God's best idea ever. Kids. Children. Second graders at Enos Garcia Elementary, to give perfect examples.
I read to five classes today, sharing my picture book Mad, Mad Annabelle Jane. I have read the book to a lot of adults, and to preschoolers at the library, but today will go down in my memory as one of my most favorite experiences.
The children were really well behaved. They sat quietly as I read to them, they raised their hands and waited politely to be called upon when we talked about everything from how to create a story to the difference between being mad and being mean. I thought at first that my favorite part was watching their faces as I read to them. Their little expressions were so animated. But I had to change my mind when they began to offer thoughts of their own.
Their eyes took on a starry twinkle, and I could clearly see the adventures taking shape in their minds. I loved the little boy who sat near me and told why a fierce hamster would his main character. His sincerely told story ended happily, thank goodness. I would hate to hear about a hamster who fails his hero's journey. Another little boy that I will remember forever told me in the couple of minutes remaining for questions that I look much younger than his forty six year old grandmother. One little girl whispered to me as I left that she is going to be a writer and wear really pretty shirts like mine.
Of course, I loved the way they made me feel about my story, and about my pretty shirt (and maybe my hair dye), but most of all I loved the way they made me feel about the future of the world. There are beautiful children who care about all the important things in life who are sitting in classrooms across the world. I only hope they can hang onto the magic of imagination. I hope they will all have teachers who give them tools to keep learning, wherever they go and whatever they do. I hope they will be spared the really sad things until they have their feet under them. They really are the best idea ever.
I read to five classes today, sharing my picture book Mad, Mad Annabelle Jane. I have read the book to a lot of adults, and to preschoolers at the library, but today will go down in my memory as one of my most favorite experiences.
The children were really well behaved. They sat quietly as I read to them, they raised their hands and waited politely to be called upon when we talked about everything from how to create a story to the difference between being mad and being mean. I thought at first that my favorite part was watching their faces as I read to them. Their little expressions were so animated. But I had to change my mind when they began to offer thoughts of their own.
Their eyes took on a starry twinkle, and I could clearly see the adventures taking shape in their minds. I loved the little boy who sat near me and told why a fierce hamster would his main character. His sincerely told story ended happily, thank goodness. I would hate to hear about a hamster who fails his hero's journey. Another little boy that I will remember forever told me in the couple of minutes remaining for questions that I look much younger than his forty six year old grandmother. One little girl whispered to me as I left that she is going to be a writer and wear really pretty shirts like mine.
Of course, I loved the way they made me feel about my story, and about my pretty shirt (and maybe my hair dye), but most of all I loved the way they made me feel about the future of the world. There are beautiful children who care about all the important things in life who are sitting in classrooms across the world. I only hope they can hang onto the magic of imagination. I hope they will all have teachers who give them tools to keep learning, wherever they go and whatever they do. I hope they will be spared the really sad things until they have their feet under them. They really are the best idea ever.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Little Feathers: Are We There Yet?
Little Feathers: Are We There Yet?: I know, I know. Life is a journey, not a destination. But I keep waiting to get there. Now I'm waiting for October 1st, which is the off...
Are We There Yet?
I know, I know. Life is a journey, not a destination. But I keep waiting to get there. Now I'm waiting for October 1st, which is the official release date for my picture book, Mad, Mad Annabelle Jane. Oh, I have some of the books already, and the publisher has it in their catalog. Friends in our New Mexico mountain valley have already bought it. I'm getting signing gigs for October set up by Tate Publishing. But I'm waiting for the book to be on Amazon in October. And I'm waiting to finish the edits on the YA novel, Raina Rising, that Sally Nava and I are writing. I have a goal of Oct 1st for that as well, because we have decided to see how self publishing through Create Space and Amazon's Direct to Kindle goes compared to the picture book launched by a publisher. So, when Oct 1st arrives, will I be there yet?
I know all the wisdom about not projecting, about living in this day and being content with the blessings of life right this moment. I tell myself how true it is that I will miss the beauty of this day if I'm waiting for tomorrow. Somehow, knowing and accepting are different things today. But I'm working on it. Here is my action plan for today: be grateful for this patch of roadway that is my life today. Be grateful for the chance to see my name on the front of a picture book, no matter what happens with the book. Be grateful for the chance to read it to children. Be grateful for the lessons learned in writing a novel, because that is a very different process from writing a picture book!
Okay, so if gratitude is the difference between taking today for granted and enjoying the journey, you would think I would have that down by now. I am, after all, fifty nine years old! Maybe when I'm sixty I'll automatically turn away from the fruitless waiting and look for the blessings of breathing this breath in this place on this day. Maybe when I'm sixty I'll be there. After all, when I'm sixty, I'll have two books out. Right?
I know all the wisdom about not projecting, about living in this day and being content with the blessings of life right this moment. I tell myself how true it is that I will miss the beauty of this day if I'm waiting for tomorrow. Somehow, knowing and accepting are different things today. But I'm working on it. Here is my action plan for today: be grateful for this patch of roadway that is my life today. Be grateful for the chance to see my name on the front of a picture book, no matter what happens with the book. Be grateful for the chance to read it to children. Be grateful for the lessons learned in writing a novel, because that is a very different process from writing a picture book!
Okay, so if gratitude is the difference between taking today for granted and enjoying the journey, you would think I would have that down by now. I am, after all, fifty nine years old! Maybe when I'm sixty I'll automatically turn away from the fruitless waiting and look for the blessings of breathing this breath in this place on this day. Maybe when I'm sixty I'll be there. After all, when I'm sixty, I'll have two books out. Right?
Friday, August 9, 2013
Little Feathers: It's Not About the Finish Line
Little Feathers: It's Not About the Finish Line: Now that Mad, Mad Annabelle Jane is a reality (in pre-release on the Tate website and on Amazon Oct 1st) I am learning again something I alr...
It's Not About the Finish Line
Now that Mad, Mad Annabelle Jane is a reality (in pre-release on the Tate website and on Amazon Oct 1st) I am learning again something I already knew. We never really"get there".
It is wonderful to hold in my hand the book that grew in my mind about three years ago. But it is really strange that it doesn't change my itch to write. I realize that the success of the first book depends largely on me, that if no one finds it and reads it, it doesn't matter that it is out there. So there is much work to be done. And that work is a privilege, because not everyone gets to have their book published. But I'm not done writing.
The way it works for me is that words build up inside my blood vessels, and I have to sit down at my keyboard and type away to relieve the pressure. Some stuff that comes out is worth saving, and some stuff is blessedly gone when I hit the delete key. But it has to come out in little gasps and globs until I feel done for moment. And that may be the greatest blessing; the ongoing challenge.
I have discovered that I will never arrive at perfection, either. At first that was a bummer. I thought if I was just good enough, I could avoid the potholes of guilt and regret. Evidently I would not continue to grow as a person if that happened (sigh), so I work instead on forgiveness, relying on undeserved grace and mercy. What does that have to do with writing? Everything.
If I were perfect (if is such a big word) I would have no need to spend time on my knees. And there is an angle of perspective that changes from that position. I would miss some of the most amazing sights.
If I were content with one book, there would be no need to keep writing. And I would miss the chance to discover more scenery from my imagination. Of course, I could do without the back alley/ dumpster/ littered roadside type stuff. But that is what the delete key is for. And some days I get to spend time in the quiet wilderness where no one has yet mucked up the place. I'm working on the leave-nothing-but-footprints technique myself. I'll probably not master it. It seems the effort is the point.
It is wonderful to hold in my hand the book that grew in my mind about three years ago. But it is really strange that it doesn't change my itch to write. I realize that the success of the first book depends largely on me, that if no one finds it and reads it, it doesn't matter that it is out there. So there is much work to be done. And that work is a privilege, because not everyone gets to have their book published. But I'm not done writing.
The way it works for me is that words build up inside my blood vessels, and I have to sit down at my keyboard and type away to relieve the pressure. Some stuff that comes out is worth saving, and some stuff is blessedly gone when I hit the delete key. But it has to come out in little gasps and globs until I feel done for moment. And that may be the greatest blessing; the ongoing challenge.
I have discovered that I will never arrive at perfection, either. At first that was a bummer. I thought if I was just good enough, I could avoid the potholes of guilt and regret. Evidently I would not continue to grow as a person if that happened (sigh), so I work instead on forgiveness, relying on undeserved grace and mercy. What does that have to do with writing? Everything.
If I were perfect (if is such a big word) I would have no need to spend time on my knees. And there is an angle of perspective that changes from that position. I would miss some of the most amazing sights.
If I were content with one book, there would be no need to keep writing. And I would miss the chance to discover more scenery from my imagination. Of course, I could do without the back alley/ dumpster/ littered roadside type stuff. But that is what the delete key is for. And some days I get to spend time in the quiet wilderness where no one has yet mucked up the place. I'm working on the leave-nothing-but-footprints technique myself. I'll probably not master it. It seems the effort is the point.
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