A Fresh Start

It was a blustery day yesterday and we flew kites! I thought of SCBWI, and how this organization has helped me grow as a writer and a person over the years. It gave me a wonderfully critical and supportive critique group. The camaraderie alone is worth the membership fee, the friendships are priceless.

In honor of kites (and, well, because the kite pictures turned out so well), I start a new chapter of this blog. One in which I begin the work of becoming a school teacher, a better writer and always a freer thinker. Look for more interviews, book reviews and stories about process.

Below is an article I wrote for an SCBWI newsletter a few years ago. I'd forgotten about it until yesterday, as I fought at times to keep my kite from taking a nose dive. . . .

Keep Your Kite Flying

In the alternate whirlwind and stillness that is a writer’s inspiration there are plenty of opportunities to ponder one’s motives. Am I concentrating on publication too much? Am I even any good at this? Do I really like to write after all?

Inevitably I wonder, when the wind of inspiration is gone, how do I keep my own kite flying? The answer should be simple. If one truly loves to do something, they do it. Period. In times of ordinary frustration, I resort to this answer to get through the day’s work. But the truth is, as an artist, I need something a little more poetic for the long haul.

So I think of my breath catching in response to a beautiful sentence, or ponder the deep satisfaction that comes from choosing the right expression. I think about a character that vibrates with life on the page and makes my own heart beat. Before long, a whisper stirs and my pen is ready. I am a writer after all.

This is the breeze keeping my own kite in the air. Sure, writing a beautiful story worthy of publication would send me over the moon. But I will still be a person who has to ask myself again and again, “Why do I do this?” The answer is what keeps any writer’s kite flying. Even on a still, windless day.

Jam Session

In my life I have jammed many things: to music playing Guitar Hero, staplers, photocopy machines, my finger, the gears on my Mazda. The list goes on. Even so, there is a kind of jamming I had overlooked until yesterday. The kids and I went strawberry picking at a local farm and discovered a dying art.

Freezer jamming.
We picked a few different kinds, tart and sweet, big and small. We are an equal opportunity freezer jamming operation.
My children, quiet and working together. We've not only been introduced to a new hobby, but I'm now convinced that these particular strawberries contain a kind of miraculous, "peaceful sibling" property. My research is not scientific, but I'm thinking it's in the seeds.
My son's favorite part was "murdering the fruit," which, though somewhat in conflict with the berry's miracle attributes, was quite theraputic for all of us.
There is a lot of sweetness in jam, but we decided to focus on vitamin C and antioxidents instead. And miracles can be only encouraged by sugar.
Stirring jam is loads of fun, until you feel a handstand coming on. . . and must take a break to indulge acrobatic urges.
And to think, if we wanted jam a hundred years ago, we'd have HAD to preserve it ourselves, and probably not the easy, freezer kind!

"Then I'm glad I live now," Mary said.

Me too. There is charm in the unnecessary.
Yet I think it is necessary to focus on process when I need a little inspiration. My writing suffers when I'm too focused on product, and forget that the work itself has sweet rewards of its own. Twenty jars of jam later, I can't wait to open one next January, and remember the miracles of June.

Story Gatherers

Today my husband and I went to the Detroit Institute of Art where I gathered much inspiration, and saw this, one of my favorite paintings. We had a wonderful time.

About this painting called, The Nut Gatherers : It was created in 1882 by Les Noisettes and, I found out today, was a little edgy for it's time. The perspective is very low to the ground and close up to what's happening between these people. Doesn't it look as if you are sitting right next to them? This is (according to the DIA) the first painting to depict children in a way that invites the viewer right into their world.

I don't know enough about art to have realized this before it was pointed out to me at the museum. Perhaps it's why I've always liked this piece so much. I want to hear the secrets these girls are telling, and the painter has put me excruciatingly close without letting me hear. My imagination is captured. The Nut Gatherers is a great example of what good children's lit, or any good book is supposed to be. Real and honest and true.