Christmas Stacks

This is one end table in our family room post Christmas-giving... and I love it.  Books, I think, are my very favorite gift.  Fiction books, cookbooks, gardening books... bring it all on.  We have overflowing baskets, bookcases and end tables all over the house, but I will never, ever tire of books.  

My father is a huge fan of the Kindle, and while I understand the lure of a book "on demand," I just can't give up the intoxicating smell of fresh print and the subtle crack of new binding.  He says I'll get there someday, but I say, out of my cold, dead hand!

My dear hubby sauntered over to the bookstore on the 23rd of December thinking he was going to pick up a copy of Mark Twain's autobiography for me.  Having no idea the book is in high demand, he was disappointed when he couldn't find it on the shelves. He was standing amongst the stacks devising a plan B, when he overheard an employee mention something about Mark Twain.  He says he doesn't know what came over him, but he had a feeling (call it divine Christmas gift intervention) and he began to move quickly to the front of the store.  Over the loudspeaker, a woman announced that they had received ONE copy of Mark Twain's autobiography and it was available to the first person who came to the front of the store.

My husband was in front of her with his hand raised before she could finish the announcement.

He is a blessed and golden man, one of those people who always seems to come out smelling like a rose. In this case, it really worked out for me... I'm well on my way through the autobiography.  What a guy.

Slow Death of the Picture Book? Say it ain't so!

From a local farmer's market... looks like Pottery Barn, huh?  Too perfect!

Greetings on this unseasonably warm October day!

Falling down on the blogging, I know.  I'm furiously working on my book project, dedicated to finish it by year's end.

I cannot let another week go by without saying a word or two about the Scarlet and Gray Writer's Conference.  It was a great day to meet other writers, hear from authors, agents and marketers.

Yes, it was a good day despite the ridiculous jitters that took over my pitch appointment and turned me into a nervous, shaky robot-woman.  Despite my best efforts, including every relaxation technique I could think of, my nerves ruled the day.  Oh well.  I'll chalk it up to experience.

Agent Mary Kole gave a great talk about the children's book market, discussing trends in picture books, middle grade and young adult fiction.  She brought my attention to a New York Times article about picture books languishing due to the down economy...ugh! Even the innocent picture book falls victim to the recession! However, if you read the article http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/08/us/08picture.html they bring attention to the fact that parents are beginning to push children toward chapter books at an earlier age.  Picture books are such an important step in reading; what a mistake it would be to miss it.

Author Lisa Klein gave some great writing advice.  She explained that just as every story has an arc (a beginning, middle and end) so does every scene.  If you treat each scene as an individual story, it does seem a bit more manageable.  I've been keeping this in mind as I continue working on my new book and her advice has been most helpful.  She also had some great tips on navigating between scenes, pacing carefully, and doing all-out "scene surgery" when your work needs drastic action.

Great conference... very worthwhile.  It gave me lots to think about, and much-needed fuel for my project.

Warm Pumpkin Muffins and Crisp Air

I spent a gloriously beautiful September day at a park with family today.  The sun was shining and the last summer bees were out in full force, aggressively moving in on our picnic fare.  In many ways it still felt like summer, but you can feel the winds of change coming... literally.

There's a familiar crispness in the air, and though trees are still green, plenty of acorns and walnuts blanket the ground reminding us that fall is near.

As the season changes and the year begins its quick finish-- Halloween--Thanksgiving--Christmas-- Happy New Year!  I hope to finish my latest writing project.  I have not been writing every day, as I am answering the call of work, kids' schedules and other important jobs...blah, blah, blah.  I know, I know--excuses.

I decided today that the change of season is an excellent writing motivator, a reminder that my book will not write itself and that time will not wait for me and my busy schedule.  The Earth will continue to rotate and every day we will move a bit further away from the sun, despite soccer games and a house that desperately needs to be cleaned.  Seriously, this place needs a good hosing down.

Alas, there are characters who are trying to emerge and a story fighting to be told.  So tonight, I am back at it.  I will leave the dust on the mantle for one more day so that I may buckle down with a hot tea, a warm pumpkin muffin and a new resolve!

Pitch Appointments and Science Fairs

The second annual Central and Southern Ohio SCBWI Scarlet and Gray Conference is October 9 and I can't wait!  I am really looking forward to spending the day with other authors, agents and experts "in the business."

http://www.coscbwi.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=4&Itemid=4

It's a completely selfish day that I can spend thinking about nothing but writing.  Heaven.

I confess I'm biting my nails to the nubbins worrying about the pitch appointment I made-- this is new to me.  I have a habit of stepping on my tongue when I'm nervous and I will assuredly be nervous about something I care so very much about.  Can I break the whole book down in six minutes?  Can I make someone care about my main character in such a short period of time?  Can I convey the tone, mood and setting accurately?

Unlike a query letter, there's no time to craft the words, without mistake.  It's just me and whatever decides to come out of my mouth.  No revision. No editing.  No second chances (gulp).

Like my seventh grade science fair project, I have been worrying about this one for weeks. I know this is a good experience and an important part of the process, so with knees knocking and index cards shaking in my hands, I will make the pitch.

Laboring on Labor Day

As I labored in the garden today, dragging around a 20 pound hedge trimmer and an extension cord that got stuck on every tree limb and fence post surrounding the perimeter of our yard, I wondered just what it is that keeps me from relaxing.  Somewhere along the line, I became the kind of person who feels guilty about taking it easy.  It is, after all, Labor Day.  I would rather be celebrating the end of summer curled up in a chair reading, or working on my latest writing project.  A big thanks goes out to the ten or twelve mosquitos who finally helped encourage me indoors.

Now, I know I'm behind on this, but I am just getting around to reading Neil Gaiman's, THE GRAVEYARD BOOK, and I am crazy about it.  How brilliant is this man?  I can't put it down.  Today I found myself reading it while I was drying my hair in the bathroom.

I know I'm hooked when I find myself juggling a hairdryer and attempting to weight down the sides of a book with brushes.

Gaiman has a gift for making the macabre charming. The main character, Nobody Owens, has the remarkable misfortune of growing up in a graveyard, but still, he manages to seem like every boy.  "Bod's" friends may be ghosts and witches, but his voice is completely authentic.

Nothing inspires writing for me more than a great story like Bod's.  I eventually put down THE GRAVEYARD BOOK long enough to get quite a bit of writing done this afternoon.

Goodbye long, dry summer... please take the yard work and mosquitos with you.  I look forward to jeans, autumn leaves and many, many good books in front of a fire.

A Place of My Own

I need a good place to write.  My laptop is great, and I can take it anywhere, but for some reason, I continue to long for a space that is all mine.  The booths and tables of Panera are filled with seemingly focused people furiously typing on their laptops.  If I try to write in a restaurant, I end up "people watching" and coveting other people's desserts.

No, I need a place of my own.  Solitude is bliss.  I need a door I can close and pretty things around me.  Something like Roald Dahl's famous writing hut.

...or Edna Vincent Millay's tranquil cottage in the woods.

Alas, I do not have unlimited funds and space for a dreamy outbuilding.  I am relegated to a corner in the bedroom, and I'll have to get rid of my dresser to squeeze in a modest desk.  And, by the way, I haven't found the perfect modest desk yet, so I have taken to collecting the pretty things that should eventually fill it.

I plan on filling these with new manuscript drafts

Could there be prettier post-it notes?

Funny, the things that will inspire you.  I attended the wedding of a dear friend's daughter, and the table centerpieces were hydrangea-filled containers accompanied by stacks of of old books, creating beautiful vignettes on each table. 

Inspiration

I fell so in love with this beat up, old robin's egg blue can, that my friend sent me home with it.  I can't wait to use it when I finally have a "place" of my own. Thank you, Jarrod.

Finally, I need to be surrounded by books.  How to choose?  Impossible.  I guess I'll have to rotate.  My favorite well-worn paperback copy of Anne of Green Gables is a must, something by Richard Peck to make me laugh, and BECAUSE OF WINN DIXIE to make me cry a little.

It's a Perfect Day for Bananafish...and a blog

So my first blog post is a melancholy one.  After 43 years in the high school trenches, the world's best English teacher is retiring.   His reputation as a tough educator frightened even the best of students-- and this man lived up to the hype.  He exposed me to the classics, fostered my love of reading, introduced me to the brilliant J.D. Salinger and the whole wacky Glass family.  He made me want to be a better writer.  He certainly made me a better student.  Thank God for educators who challenge us and force us to push our boundaries.

I went to "meet the teacher" night tonight.  I felt such a strange mix of sadness and joy as I sat in my favorite teacher's classroom one last time.   My son doesn't yet know his luck, but he is in the world's best English teacher's final class.