Dori Reads

Poetry Friday: Black History Month

2012-02-03T03:30:00.000-05:00

I want to celebrate the first Poetry Friday in National Black History month with one of my favorite historical figures--George Washington Carver. On my list of "people I'd like to talk to when I get to heaven," this sweet man is in my top ten. In my county, students study Carver in the first grade and again in the fifth grade. Last year I wrote a first grade level biography of him for State Standards Publishing, but I loved him long before that. I think he must have captured my imagination when I was in elementary school. Maybe it was the flower in his lapel or the kindness in his eyes or the fact that I love boiled peanuts and parched peanuts and peanut butter. Or maybe it was simply the genius of the man.

I recently discovered Marilyn Nelson's book, Carver: A Life in Poems. It is a beautiful tribute to marvelous life. I know I came to this book late. It was a Newberry Honor book and a Coretta Scott King Honor book in 2002, but somehow I missed it back then. I was back in school that year and busy writing papers and being a good non-traditional student. Nelson's poems capture the essence of Carver's life.

Here are a few excerpts I especially liked:

from "Watkins Laundry and Apothecary"

He was the child the good Lord gave
and took away before I got more
than the twinkle of a glimpse at the man he was going to be.
It happened one Saturday afternoon.
George was holding a black-eyed Susan,
talking about how the see
this flower grew from
carried a message from a flower
that bloomed a million years ago,
and how this flower
would send the message on
to a flower that was going to bloom
in a million more years.
Praise Jesus, I'll never forget it.
He left to find a teacher that knew
more than he knew.

from "Chemistry 101"

A canvas apron over his street clothes,
Carver leads his chemistry class into
the college dump. The students follow, a claque
of ducklings hatched by hens.

from "Coincidence"

He looks down at the brown road map
printed in his yellow palms.
Your life may be the only Bible
some people will know.

from "Mineralogy"

He showed Ford his phosphate pebble,
found in an Iowa creek bed,
his microcline feldspar, found
in the Alabama woods, his smoky quartz,
kicked up by his boot toe
in a Kansas wheat field, his fluorite,
sent by a Kentucky spelunker, his
marcasite, sent by an English mineralogist
in exchange for a piece of information,
and here it was, his diamond, the gift
of his dear friend, Henry.

Pages before the book ended I was wondering how she would manage it, how she would close the door on this remarkable life. In the final poem, entitled "Moton Field," Carver is still living. His "palseyed right hand/stutters answers to letters heaped beside his bed" while pilots of the Tuskeegee Airmen train--"a P-40 zooms in at five o'clock/ high as a Negro has ever been./.../and makes a sky-roaring victory roll." It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I wanted to write her a letter and say thank you for her work, for the way she captured his heart, for showing how much his life counted.For ending with that victory.

The story of the Tuskegee Airmen has been told over and over. Made into movies over and over. It's been made into movies over and over. It's just such a great story, people will keep on telling it over and over. I went with my dad last wee to see "Red Tails." We both loved it.If you haven't seen the new George Lucas version yet, it's worth seeing.

I live about an hour and a half from Tuskegee on the Georgia side of the Chattahoochee River. It's been a few years since we drove over and went through the museum. My hubby was cleaning out some drawers in is office this weekend and brought me a pamphlet he had picked up while we were there. It's called "How to Grow the Tomato and 115 Ways to Prepare it for the Table." by George Washington Carver. Maybe if I followed his advice I could actually grow a tomato. See my post "No More Veggies" for my history with tomato growing.

Stop by The Iris Chronicles for more Poetry Friday.

Where January Went

2012-01-31T21:06:00.000-05:00

It feels like it ought to be March. January seemed to last forever and the tulip trees are blooming already. It's a good thing I didn't make any New Years resolutions. They wouldn't have lasted. So, here I am trying to catch up again.

My hubby and I left for Oregon on New Year's Day. We spent a lovely week with my daughter and son-in-law in Eugene and Portland.

Hubby and Son-in-Law at the Oregon U track. Yes, we were there when the Ducks won the football game.

Sculpture on the architecture building when Son-in-Law is a student.

We had a lovely dinner at a winery in the Oregon countryside.

A lesson in architecture at the Oregon U art museum.

I left Oregon on Friday and flew to San Antonio for my Delaney sales conference and spent several days with my grands before moving to the hotel for three days of publisher presentations.

Now aren't those babies beautiful?

The kids came to the Riverwalk one night after the conference. We had ice cream and then hung out at the Rainforest Cafe.

And there's number five. Such a sweetie.

By the time I got home, around midnight on January 11, I was on the verge of one of the worst colds I've had in a very long time--head, chest, nose, the whole works. I spent about 5 days in bed or sitting in front of the TV wrapped in blankets and another week trying to function. In other words I did only the absolute minimum, then came home and slept again. I watched three full seasons of Burn Notice. I've always liked spy stories, never tried to write one though. I decided Burn Notice is a bit like Scarecrow and Mrs. King on steroids. Went through a full round of antibiotics, two boxes of Mucinex, and who knows how many gallons of chicken soup. Like I said, it was a long month. Finally this last week I'm feeling mostly human, although the cough is still not completely gone.

This last week I signed up for a class at writers.com, called 40 Days and 40 Nights. It's taught by Laurie Wagner. Here's the blurb that sold me:

After 10 weeks and 40 assignments you will see a difference in your work.

You will: feel more comfortable writing; find a looseness in your voice; take more chances, more risks; develop a relationship with writing that is comfortable and familiar. You might even get to know the sound of your own voice.

That's what I would like to find in these next weeks, and it's probably one of the reasons I didn't make any resolutions. I knew I'd lost touch with something in my writing life and I didn't want to just mask the need with new goals. Instead I want to recharge, rediscover my relationship with this thing we call a writing life. I'll keep you posted.

Poetry Friday: Resolutions

2011-12-30T02:00:00.000-05:00

I'm not making a long list of resolutions this year. Okay, I'll probably come up with a few. At least I'll take a look at what I want to achieve in the new year. But that's sort of my issue with resolutions right now. I'm not sure I want to achieve anything other than recapture my joy in my writing journey. So I have a few tentative ideas, but I don't even want to call them resolutions. Want to know why? Read on...

On New Year's Day
by Kenn Nesbitt

On New Year's Day a year ago,
I started off the year
by making resolutions
that were probably severe.

I said I'd save my money,
as this seemed so very wise.
I vowed I would improve my health.
I swore I'd exercise.

I stated I would do my homework
every single day.
I'd brush my teeth religiously
to ward off tooth decay.

I'd eat my fruits and vegetables
and keep my bedroom clean.
I'd treat my sister kindly
though she's often very mean.

My resolutions lasted me
about a half a day.
I promised I would keep them
but I broke them anyway.

So now I'm fat and penniless.
My homework's overdue.
My sister's mad. My teeth are bad.
My room is messy too.

And yet I think I may have found
the best of all solutions,
and this year I've resolved
to not make ANY resolutions.

Copyright © 2004 Kenn Nesbitt
All Rights Reserved
From www.poetry4kids.com

Julie Larios is hosting Poetry Friday over at the Drift Record.

Closing out the Old

2011-12-29T09:52:00.000-05:00

The grandchildren have gone home. They left this morning. No more pillow fights or toys in the floor.

Fortunately they helped un-decorate and get everything Christmas back in the boxes for next year. Now on to getting myself ready for the new year.

First challenge is reducing the piles on my desk,

the clutter in my office,

and weed some books from my shelves.

I hope you're having as much fun as I am!

Merry Poetry Friday

2011-12-23T00:18:00.000-05:00

I am delighted to host Poetry Friday this week. With only days left before Christmas, I'm finished with shopping--thanks to my sweet husband who can out shop me any day of the year. The presents are all wrapped and stuffed under the tree or in boxes and mailed to family far away. There's still a bit of grocery shopping to do and bed making for the grand kids, coming in the wee hours of Christmas morning. They'll probably pass Santa somewhere on the road between Minnesota and Georgia.

I stopped in the local bookstore this week just to see what was left of holiday books in the children's department. With that in mind, I thought I would wish you a Merry Poetry Friday with some of the titles I found.

Wishing you a rollicking good time with friends and family as you countdown the days.

Wishing you a bit of silliness, songs to sing, and stories to tell.

Wishing you some peace and quiet. Some silent nights...

with only drama of the Nutcracker type.

Something to celebrate.

Something to sing about.

Something to share.

And joyous blessings to you and your house.


The Wassail Song 


Here we come a-wassailing


Among the leaves so green,


Here we come a wand'ring,


So fair to be seen. 


Love and joy come to you,


And to your wassail too,


And God bless you and send you a happy new year


and God send you a happy new year.




Merry Poetry Friday. Leave you link below.

Poetry Friday: Lord Alfred Tennyson

2011-12-09T04:40:00.000-05:00

It's been a gray week around here. Aside from the cold and the rain, I spent hours with my father gathering all the necessary documents for financial assistance for my mother in the nursing home. Tennyson's lines match my state of mind today.

From "In Memoriam"

Lord Alfred Tennyson

To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last red leaf is whirl'd away,
The rooks are blown about the skies;

The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,
The cattle huddled on the lea;
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
The sunbeam strikes along the world:

And but for fancies, which aver
That all thy motions gently pass
Athwart a plane of molten glass,
I scarce could brook the strain and stir

That makes the barren branches loud;
And but for fear it is not so,
The wild unrest that lives in woe
Would dote and pore on yonder cloud

That rises upward always higher,
And onward drags a labouring breast,
And topples round the dreary west,
A looming bastion fringed with fire.

More Poetry Friday with Robyn Hood Black at Read, Write, Howl.

Poetry Friday: Robert Louis Stevenson in Hawaii

2011-12-02T00:30:00.000-05:00

The hotel where we stayed in Hawaii claimed bragging rights to Robert Louis Stevenson's visit to the island. The Hau Tree Lanai is situated beneath the trees where Stevenson is said to have lounged and written. In a letter to a friend, he described a lanai as “an open room or summer parlour, partly surrounded with venetian shutters, in part quite open, which is the living room.”

Today this spot is an open patio with the Hau Tree as a roof. You have to watch your head. In fact some low branches had been wrapped to keep folks from doing any damage if they accidentally banged into one.

“If anyone desires such old fashion things such as lovely scenery, quiet pure air, clear sea water, good food and heavenly sunsets hung out before his eyes over the Pacific and the distant hills of Wai’anae, I recommend him cordially to the Sans Souci.”

It was a good recommendation.

We always decorate for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving. This year, since we had no children or grands nearby, we borrowed some.

Our Christmas lights were bad, so Lauren, Leah, Abby, and I piled into the car and headed to the store for replacements. The girls decorated the tree and wrapped presents. What a big help!

For Poetry Friday, in honor of Christmas decorating and Robert Louis Stevenson, here is Christmas at Sea. Stop by Carol's Corner for the roundup.

Christmas at Sea
The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
The decks were like a slide, where a seamen scarce could stand;
The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the sea;
And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.

They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;
But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.

All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.

We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide-race roared;
But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:
So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,
And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.

The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long-shore home;
The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.

The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas morn,
And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.

O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;
And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the shelves.

And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.

They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
"All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the captain call.
"By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first mate Jackson, cried.
..."It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," he replied.

She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.
As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,
We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.

And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.

By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-94).

Stop by Carol's Corner for more Poetry Friday.

Aloha Vacation

2011-12-01T10:31:00.001-05:00

One of the benefits of working for Delaney Educational is that when you work hard, it pays off. Not only have I made a lot of wonderful friends who are media specialists and literacy coaches, but I earned a trip to Hawaii. Six other Delaney reps, along with their spouse or friend, Tom and Nancy Delaney traveled to Oahu the week before Thanksgiving for a fabulous Hawaiian vacation. And it was a true vacation. No work. No writing. Nothing but fun.

Here are some highlights.

1. We stayed at the New Otani Hotel, a few blocks east of Waikiki. Close enough to walk to all the hoopla, but far enough away to be peaceful. Right on the beach, all beaches in Hawaii are public, by the way. The Hau Tree Lanai served the most wonderful Eggs Benedict and Coconut Macadamia Nut French Toast.

2. We hiked Diamond Head. Now I know where they take all those beautiful pictures of Honolulu.

3. At Pearl Harbor, the USS Arizona Memorial is a very moving experience. Names of all the sailors fill a white marble wall lit by sunlight streaming through the branches of the Tree of Life Sculpture. The ship leaks two quarts of oil a day. They call it the black tears of the Arizona.

4. One of the highlights of the tour around the island was the sea turtles. These guys swim ashore, spend the morning eating vegetation, then find a comfy spot on the sand and sleep off their big meal.

This is Isabella. She's recognizable because of the barnacles on her shell.

Kuhina is a 260 pound adult male. He's 35 years old.

5. Wild chickens make themselves at home just about anywhere on the island. These are at Pali lookout where Kamehameha tossed rival warriors off a very steep cliff.

6. Okay, we crashed the Luau at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. We didn't plan to, but hey, nobody said we couldn't sit on the sofa and watch.

My friend Janice and I managed to get pictures with the Somoan Fire Dancer.

We had a wonderful time. I'm finally getting over two ten hour flights (hard on the body) and jet lag. Back to working. Back to writing. Lots of good memories.

Poetry Friday: Gold Leaves by G.K. Chesterton

2011-11-18T03:01:00.000-05:00

The last month has been an emotional roller coaster. My mother fell and went into the hospital about three weeks ago. From there to a rehab nursing home. This week my dad and brother and I had to make the decision for her to remain in their care. It has been very stressful, but we are confident that this is the best decision for her and for my dad, who also suffers some health issues. I am so grateful for the kind staff who has worked with us to get her situated.

So aging has been much on my mind lately. My husband and I have four living parents in their eighties. Three are aging gracefully, minds in tact and bodies simply slowing down. Not so my mother. It saddens me and makes me think on the days that remain in my life, the words yet to be written, the joys yet to be lived, the struggles yet to be faced. I want to live them well, to bring honor to the Creator who put me here, to recognize "the million masks of God" and do what I can so that "when I come to autumn," the leaves are gold.

Gold Leaves

Lo! I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold;
Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out
The year and I are old.

In youth I sought the prince of men,
Captain in cosmic wars,
Our Titan, even the weeds would show
Defiant, to the stars.

But now a great thing in the street
Seems any human nod,
Where shift in strange democracy
The million masks of God.

In youth I sought the golden flower
Hidden in wood or wold,
But I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold.

---Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Tabatha Yeats hosts Poetry Friday today at The Opposite of Indifference.

Five Best Online Dictionaries for Children

2011-11-15T06:35:00.000-05:00

When writing for young children, I often need simple definitions to include in the text or in the glossary. Some publishers have their own preference for dictionary usage. In my most recent biographies for Rourke Publishing, my editor wanted all the definitions and pronunciation taken from the Scholastic Children's Dictionary. I have several dictionaries on my shelf, but I didn't have that one, so I ordered it from Amazon and added it to my collection. But I often use online dictionaries while I'm writing.

These are my favorites:

I usually start with Wordsmyth . It gives me the option to choose from beginner, children's, or advanced definitions. It also has a box that shows the words that come before and after a chosen word, like looking at a page in a print dictionary and a box for multi-word combinations.

If I'm not completely satisfied with my definition, I'll check Word Central ,which is powered by Merriam-Webster and Yahoo Kids Dictionary with references from the American Heritage Dictionary. Sometimes it takes a combination of several definitions for me to settle on the best one for a particular project.

I recently discovered Fact Monster. While the information here is written at a higher level, I like the way this website offers multiple definitions of the word as different parts of speech.

RhymeZone requires an extra step if you're looking primarily for a definition. A drop down menu beside the word entry lets you search for rhymes, near rhymes, synonyms, antonyms, homophones, definitions, quotations, and a few other choices. It even gives you the option to search for your word in the definition of another word, like a reverse dictionary.

Veteran's Memorial

2011-11-11T01:00:00.000-05:00

My office, as editor of the Infantry Bugler, sits on the second floor of the new state-of-the-art National Infantry Museuem. A parade field behind the museum, sewn with the soil of historic American battlefields from all over the world, is the site of weekly graduation ceremonies for basic trainees.

Platoons of soldiers often gather on the sidewalk in front of the "Follow Me" Statue. From my window I can see them, at ease with their choices, at least on the surface, marching double file back to a barrack or a home where, hopefully, there is love. I grew up in this town full of soldiers, home of the Infantry, and now, the Armor. Young men in their dress blue uniforms walking the highway to the mall is a common sight. It's common for a stranger to pay for a soldier's meal. Common to place a hand on a uniformed sleeve and say thank you. Common to whisper, "God keep you safe, Soldier."

If you know a soldier, say thank you today.

For Poetry Friday on the Veteran's Day, I hope you enjoy "Chats with Eleanor." There lots more poetry to be found at Teaching Authors.

CHATS WITH ELEANOR
by Pris Campbell

Fairy Godmothers with ample laps
and June Cleaver faces slid down the rabbit hole
of old dial-up phones, ten cent colas, Betsy Wetsys,
and scratchy LPs an innocent lifetime ago.

Try strutting about nowdays in tiara and starched skirt,
waving a wand---the madhouse will open its jaws
and swallow you whole, but

my fairy godmother is clever.
She dresses like Eleanor Roosevelt,
talks like Eleanor, looks like Eleanor,
says she is Eleanor, back from the dead.

Each night she brings me hot chocolate, sits,
tell stories about quiet fireside chats,
her husband’s withered legs and how much
she thought he loved her before Lucy.

She reminds me to floss every night
and to be sure to carry an umbrella
should sudden thunderstorms threaten.
She emphasizes that one must learn to
be brave

Read the rest here.

Five to Catch Up

2011-11-08T22:30:00.002-05:00

1. Deadlines are great for getting some serious writing done.

2. Family emergencies make writing almost impossible. Even with deadlines. My mom was in the hospital and is now at a nursing home rehab facility. She's doing better.

3. I love riding my bike on a warm fall afternoon. Realized I can actually ride it to the nursing home to see my mom. It's about six miles on the new rails to trails.

4. Went on a shopping spree with my totally helpful, classy, designer nephew, who then came home and rearranged all my closets. I'm hoping some of that style savvy rubbed off on me.

5. Had a wonderful weekend writer's retreat with four other FABULOUS writer friends--Ashley Parsons, Ashleigh Halley, Vicky Alvear Shecter, and Kara Bietz--where we got lots of words on paper, laughed till our bellies ached, and generally nurtured our writing souls.

Poetry Friday: The Quiet World

2011-10-14T00:30:00.000-04:00

Last night I talked with my husband who's visiting the grands in Texas. Today is my seven-year-old granddaughter's birthday, and her daddy's. I hung up the phone and the house was so quiet. I went in search of a poem about this silence and found this one. It perfectly captured how I'm feeling.
I hope you enjoy, too.

The Quiet World
BY JEFFREY MCDANIEL

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you

Read the rest here.

There's more Poetry Friday at Fomagrams.

Conference Overload

2011-10-13T20:18:00.002-04:00

I'm in between back to back writers' conference weekends.

Last weekend at the Auburn Writer's Conference (Auburn University), I sat in three workshops. Evalina Galang, director of MFA program at Univ of Miami, talked about plot. Wendy Reed, producer on Alabama public television, talked about differences in non-fiction genres. Poet Melissa Dickson talked about persona poems. The second day was filled with keynote addresses and readings.

I gleaned a few gems from the sessions and readings, but I always come away from these type conferences feeling like I've gotten too much of not enough. A one-hour session just doesn't give enough time for ingesting or digesting the information, inspiration, imagination in a workshop leader's notes.

Tomorrow I head for Birminghim and the SCBWI Southern Breeze fall conference. Another day of short workshops. Again I'll glean. Again I'm going to feel like it's too much of not enough.

I'm about ready to declare a fast from conferences!

My husband has gone to Texas to spend the weekend with the grandbabies. I'm lonesome, but getting some work done. But it's pretty bad when I resort to a 1970s musical version of Tom Sawyer on TV to go with dinner. Okay, I'm switching channels. Now.

Ooh, I got to Google phone call with the grands and call their spelling words to them. Now that's satisfying.

Low Level Biographies Correlated to Georgia Performance Standards

2011-10-04T07:48:00.001-04:00

A new set of biographies for Georgia first grade teachers!

The set features the titles required by the Georgia Performance Standards for first grade. These folks are hard to find at a low reading level, so my fabulous editor at State Standards Publishing has just released this new set for all you first grade teachers out there looking for low-level readers.

I was thrilled to write six of them and fellow SCBWI Southern Breeze writer, Ashleigh Halley wrote the other two.

It was a good experience all around. Ashleigh and I look forward to knowing how these books fit your teaching needs, so let us know what you think.

POV: First Person-John Marsden

2011-09-26T20:12:00.002-04:00

A few years ago I took an online class through the Writer Studio that was an extraordinary learning experience. The goal was to read a small piece of a story and identify the tools the narrator used to tell the story. Exercises required us to create a similar narrator who used the same tools to tell their story as the one we had read.

I'm teaching a class on point of view at the local university's continuing education program, using a similar pattern. I thought sharing here might be helpful to you, too.

So, let's start with Australian author John Marsden's book The Night is For Hunting.
Here's the blurb from GoodReads to give you a feel for the book.

Amidsta brutal war with no end in sight, Ellie and her four remaining friendsdiscover that their hidden refuge becomes a crowded place when they decide tocare for an uncooperative crew of orphans. Things only get worse when Ellie andHomer learn that mysterious visitors have discovered their sanctuary. Has theenemy found them out? Five ordinary teens brave the worst in this electrifyingcontinuation of their battle to stay safe and sane in a war zone that was oncetheir home.

Chapter One begins like this:

It was hot and dusty. The sun sat up there all day withoutmoving. It saw everything and it forgave nothing. Sometimes it seemed like youwere alone in the world, you and the sun, and at those times you couldunderstand why people in the old days feared and worshipped it.

I hated thesun. For months on end it had no mercy. It burned everything. Everything thatwasn’t covered or hidden or fed with water, it burned.

It wasmid-December and we were forty milliliters down on the monthly average. Thedams looked like muddy pools, and the stock hung around in the drying mud, moreinterested in staying cool than in eating. Three of us were working in theyards: Dad, Quentin, and me. Quentin had been late, as usual, and that got Dadsnarling.

The tools this narrator uses:

Ellie begins with a memory. She starts with a descriptionof the landscape, then moves to the scene occurring within that landscape andcreates it with intricate details that make us feel like we’re right there withher and her father and the vet as they cull the "empty" heifers, the ones not pregnant. We don’t know immediately that it is a memory,but by the time we do, we understand what this PN has lost. She has last her parents, her friends, and life in any normal sense of the word.

Later in Chapter one:

Other people used tranquilizers or grog or drugs I suppose,to shut out awful grey realities. I didn’t have those but I wouldn’t have takenthem anyway. I clung to my daydreams, and tried to use them. They weren’tenough, not by a long way, but they were something. On the really depressingdays they were all I had.

Daydreamscould be dangerous though. On my school reports teachers wrote “Needs toconcentrate harder.” It didn’t bother me much back then. But in this warconcentration became a matter of life and death. You missed hearing a twigbreak, you were dead. You ignored a truck parked off the side of the road, youwere caught in a trap. You blocked out your sense that something wasn’t quiteright, and the next minute you were lying on the ground with a gun pressed inyour neck.

And itwasn’t just yourself who got wiped out. You could kill your friends by notconcentrating.

The tools:

The narrator uses “you” as a substitute for “I”. It’s adevice that includes the reader in the story, makes the reader feel as if s/hewere there beside the PN. This device also allows Ellie to distance herselffrom emotions or actions she does not feel are acceptable—wanting to beat theheifer with a shovel, the death of a friend that resulted from inattention. Andin those moments she reveals herself, the fact that she has done/felt thesethings and the fact that she is not proud of them and feels guilt as a result.

The narrator's tone is poetic and conversational, but the mood behind it, the emotion the narrator wants the reader to feel is hopeless and dark.

The purpose of all this analysis is to experiment with these same tools. Try it.

Create a first person narrator who uses a conversational tone with poetic overtones. Begin with a scene that is a memory. Use "you" to include the reader and distance the narrator from a painful situation.

Poetry Friday: Praise Poems

2011-09-23T06:14:00.001-04:00

I'm excited to be a guest at Nancy I. Sanders' Blogzone today to talk about my latest book, Sing, Dance, Shout: 30 Days of Praise. I hope you'll stop by for the interview and stay a while to explore the blog. Nancy has been a wonderful source of information and encouragement for me in my writer's journey over the last few years. Her book, Yes! You Can...Build a Successful Writing Career is chock full of great advice.

Today is Poetry Friday and my book is about praise, I thought I would share some praise poems.

One of my favorites is "Pied Beauty" by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things--
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

"A Praise Song from My Mother" is a praise poem celebrating motherhood. Click here to listen to Grace Nichols, a poet from Guyana, read her lovely poem.

For more Poetry Friday, head over to Anastasia Suen's blog, Picture Book of the Day.

POV: Whose Story is This Anyway?

2011-09-19T21:53:00.000-04:00

All writers create a persona or a storyteller to tell their tale. It’s easy to see that a first-person narrator is an invented persona, but a third-person narrator is just as much an invention of the writer’s imagination. That persona narrator is not the writer.

Understanding this distance between the writer and the narrator allows the writer room to play, room to be creative. You need not feel obligated to tell your story “exactly the way it happened.” Fiction doesn’t care about facts. It’s about artistry and drama. It's about creating a powerful emotional experience for your reader. A storyteller who is not “you” lets you experiment and take chances as you create a story.

The persona maintains distance from the characters in the story, too. A first-person narrator is closer to the characters, simply because s/he is in the story. Third-person narrators are also invented personas with personalities. Third-person narrators can look at characters from far away like a distant camera shot (see “The Death of Ivan Illych” by Leo Tolstoy); can watch them like bystanders (see The Wishing Trees by John Shors); or look over a character’s shoulder and show us the world from his perspective (see The Giver by Lois Lowry).

Look at the books you’ve read most recently and ask these questions.

1. Who is the narrator? What kind of personality does s/he have? (Straightforward, unreliable, dramatic, matter of fact? Is s/he comfortable or awkward as a storyteller?
2. Is it a first, second or third-person narrator? Why is it written this way?
3. Does this narrator use direct address? Why or Why not?
4. Where is the narrator in relationship to the characters?
5. Did the PN use present tense or past? Why?

Try this: Create a persona narrator that is different from yourself. If you're a woman, try creating a narrator who is a man. If you're a quiet person, create a loud, brash storyteller. If you're a Type A personality, create a shy storyteller. Write a page or two using this narrator to tell about something that happened in your day.

Poetry Friday: September

2011-09-16T08:22:00.001-04:00

Last night I looked for a poem that would suggest how I'm feeling with the lovely change in weather. I ran out of energy before I found what I wanted. Then, this appeared in my inbox this morning from Your Daily Poem. It's perfect. Enjoy!

And stop over at The Poem Farm where Amy is hosting the round up today.

Edgeof September
by
Jeanie Tomasko

Again this year it comes:
the shift in the wind
that certain slant of sun
the sudden red of sumac.

Out at the lake
birdsong is less urgent,
the young can feed themselves.
In a few days
something like light
will tug on wings.

I am at home with
the downside of summer.
I take stock of the woodpile.
Night comes earlier. The space
between cricket chirps, longer.

Read the rest here.

Wild Mind by Natalie Goldberg

2011-09-12T06:00:00.000-04:00

When Natalie Goldberg finished Writing Down the Bones, she thought she had said all she had to say on the subject of writing. It is our good fortune as writers that she was mistaken. The focus in Goldberg's new book, Wild Mind, is writing practice, finding time to write, breaking through procrastination and mental blocks, finding the gems buried in what Ms. Goldberg calls the wild mind, something larger than the unconscious that encompasses the whole of life, nature, and experience.

In her short chapters, overflowing with examples and her own experiences, Goldberg encourages ten-minute spurts of "writing practice" to help writers find that "quiet place in us below our hip personality that is connected to our breath, our words..." Chapter after chapter ends with timed prompts for dipping into that quiet place. Phrases like "I'm thinking of," "I know/don't know," and "I remember." Write about something that's hard for you to talk about. Write the rebellion you feel. Stop in the middle of your sentence and write--"What I really want to say is..."

She talks about failure, about being lazy, about writing her first novel. She opens her own struggles with the writing life for us to view, to take solace in, and then goes on to give us the tools to move beyond those dilemmas in our own writing life.

Ms. Goldberg is open with her life experiences and her Zen Buddhist beliefs. While you may not embrace her philosophy of life, she is an extraordinary writer with much to offer those of us walking beneath the "big sky" with a pen in our hand.

Poetry Friday: Jean Nordhaus

2011-09-09T07:21:00.000-04:00

From Jean Nordhaus, this lovely poem brightened my Poetry Friday. I hope it does the same for you.

More Poetry Friday at Secrets & Sharing Soda.

Under the Sign of Isadora,

my lonely mother taught me dancing.
It was afternoon, her cleaning done.
We climbed to the carpeted room
under the roof. Sunlight had entered
before us, warm prayer rugs unrolled
on the carpet. We took off our shoes
and closed the door.

Whatever she did, I repeated.
When she raised her arms
to touch the sky, I lifted mine.
If she bent low, sweeping the grass
with her arms, I did the same.
I would be water. In me
she would watch herself move between past

and future, my infant steps
continuing the figures hers began

Read the rest here.

Illiteracy at the Driver's Bureau

2011-09-07T04:21:00.000-04:00

Last week I had to renew my driver's license. It expired on my birthday back in the middle of July, but I'm legal again. I went prepared to spend hours waiting. The last time I was there, about ten years ago as I usually renew it online, it really did take a long time. This time, however, some smart driver's license bureaucrat managed to streamline the process and I was in and out pretty quickly.

While I was waiting, a young woman sat down in the row of chairs behind me. She gently tapped me on the shoulder and said she needed my help to fill out her form. She was difficult to understand, but I finally grasped the fact that she could not read. I was stunned to run smack into illiteracy in the driver's license bureau. Once I ascertained that it was okay for me to fill out the form for her (it was a government document, so I wasn't sure) I started writing her name for her. Then they called me to the counter to have an awful picture made and my name changed to match my social security card. Another long story, but don't ever call your child by their middle name if you want them to make it through life without at least three file folders every where anyone keeps a file folder with names on it.

By the time I was done, the young lady who couldn't read had been called to the counter where the driver's bureau employee helped her fill out her form. I don't know how she was going to take the test. Do they read the driver's test to you if you can't read it yourself? How could she read road signs? They don't all have symbols, some have words.

I wish I could have talked more with her. I wonder how she manages to get through daily life. I know there are people who can't read, but I don't run into them very often. It made me realize again just how important literacy is. The image of that young woman whispering behind her hand that she needed help saddens me. It's an image that remains lodged in my mind. Maybe she will find her way into a story one day.

I hope, one day, her story includes reading.

It's Been a Long Month

2011-09-05T15:55:00.000-04:00

My husband broke his ankle just over a month ago. He was here, fighting with a large branch caught between the rocks. The branch won. He slipped on the rocks and went in the creek. It's a mystery to me how he managed to get back up the hill to the house.

It's broken here. Fibula.

For weeks now, he's been here. Except ours is green.

He gets there with this.

Like I said. It's been a long month, but we have progressed to a boot instead of a cast and are slowly making progress. I'll be back to blogging soon.

Poetry Friday is Here!

2011-08-19T00:15:00.007-04:00

I'm not a true collector. At least not like my husband, whose collection of old bottles (milk bottles, soda bottles, medicine bottle), signed Yankees paraphernalia, and antique toys provide an endless source of conversation with clients in his office. Notice I said "in his office." Right, they don't come home.

I do like teapots and have about four or five of them. This is one of my favorites. It's hand-sculpted porcelain by Franz, Johnny Ho, Designer.

But I don't want many pieces or lots of other teapots. Just a little, a touch, a hint, so that I can appreciate the craftsmanship and savor the beauty.

The only thing I have more than a few of are books. I like old books, especially collections of poetry. Again, I don't have many and they aren't rare books, but they do have character. By that I mean they have tale-tell signs of a former reader/owner's presence. I like to find a book with the corners of pages turned down, with notes written in the margins, with highlighted sections and underlined phrases. I want to know how much someone else once loved these words.

This copy of Federico Garcia Lorca's Lament for the Death of a Bullfighter still has the faded dust jacket covering the blood red cloth cover. Inside, printed in red pen, the owner wrote her name, the date--October 21, 1954--and Paris, France. She also left her promotional post card in the pages. She could be contacted through the Actor's Equity Association.

Pressed between the pages of this 1971 edition of Anne Sexton's Transformations, I found a Bazooka Bubblegum cartoon.

The fortunereads: You will accumulate much knowledge by keeping an open mind.

This owner has character. Maybe he or she should be a character!

This library copy of How Does a Poem Mean? by John Ciardi is a favorite. Published in 1959 and bound by New Method Book Bindery, it reminds me of today's Bound to Stay Bound Books that will last forever, but don't have much pizzazz, at least on the outside.

The highlighted line says: A good poem is always better than one could have expected. Even on re-reading, and even on many re-readings, the truly achieved poem stays richer than one's best memory of it.

Thanks for joining me on this Poetry Friday. May your memories of these poems stay full, rich, collectible. Enjoy.

Another Side of Shel

2011-08-12T08:51:00.003-04:00

I may be the only person out there who didn't know that Shel Silverstein was a musician as well as a poet. I picked up the entertainment section of the New York Times this week while in Starbucks and read about a concert tribute held in New York City, called "Shelebration!"

My mother and daddy were Johnny Cash fans. I remember listening, and laughing, with them over his hit song, "A Boy Named Sue." It was recorded live at San Quentin State Prison. And who wrote it? Shel Silverstein. Of course. It's his signature rollicking rhythm and quirky humor. I should have known.

And this one, first recorded by Peter, Paul, and Mary is a favorite. Here's "Boa Constrictor" performed by Johnny Cash.

More Poetry Friday here with Karen Edmisten.

Book Signing

2011-08-08T06:20:00.004-04:00

My book signing for Sing, Dance, Shout! 30 Days of Praise was Saturday at the Sanctuary, the local Christian bookstore. My thanks to Rodney Redmond and the staff. It was such fun day.Good friend Karen Johnson set the event up for me and handled publicity. Something I probably wouldn't have done without her. One could not have a better publicist.

We had a steady stream of people all afternoon, in spite of the badly needed downpour. Rodney sold every copy of the book he ordered!

Special thanks to my wonderful writing partner, Ashley Parsons, who read the first draft and helped me stay on track.

Now back to real life.

Poetry Friday: The Meadow Mouse

2011-08-05T06:44:00.002-04:00

I've been working on a museum project, writing the text for the panels beside the exhibits. My client wants a conversational tone to the information and an emphasis on habitat.

Here's the text for the White-footed Mouse:

The White-footed Mouse lives in warm, dry forests and brushy areas near the edge of woods. These mice usually come out at night. They are good climbers and good swimmers. They drum their forepaws on hollow reeds to produce a musical, buzzing sound. Scientists have no explanation for this behavior. The mouse uses its keen eyesight and sharp senses of hearing, touch, and smell to locate food and avoid predators. Nuts, seeds, fruit and berries, small insects, and fungi make up the mouse’s diet. These mice nest in underground tunnels, brush piles, or rocky crevices.

Conversational, but a bit dry.

Then last night I was reading through Theodore Roethke's The Far Field and found this. It's why I love poetry.

The Meadow Mouse

In a shoe box stuffed in an old nylon stocking

Sleeps the baby mouse I found in the meadow,

Where he trembled and shook beneath a stick

Till I caught him up by the tail and brought him in,

Cradled in my hand,

A little quaker, the whole body of him trembling,

His absure whiskers sticking out like a cartoon-mouse,

His feet like small leaves,

Little lizard-feet,

Whitish and spread wide when he tried to struggle away,

Wriggling like a minuscule puppy.

Now he's eaten his three kinds of cheese and drunk from his bottle-cap watering-trough--

So much he just lies in one corner,

His tail curled under him, his belly big

As his head; his bat-like ears

Twitching, tilting toward the least sound.

Do I imagine he no longer trembles

When I come close to him

He seems no longer to tremble.

Read part 2 here.

Stop in at Libby Franke's blog, A Year of Literacy Coaching, for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Publishing Trends in the Educational Market

2011-08-04T08:30:00.004-04:00

I spent a week in San Diego in July listening to some of the best educational publishers in the marketplace showing off their new books for fall. Usually there is a trend, some topic area that nearly all the publishers are trying to hit. Last year it was Going Green and lots of books on economics. This year it's a little harder to spot a specific trend. With the Olympics in London next year, there are plenty of new books on that subject. And the Titanic is having an anniversary. But the buzz word that keeps popping up, no matter who's talking, is common core. As states across the country adopt the new Common Core Standards, publishers are striving to make sure their new lists give educators the tools to meet the new guidelines.

If you want to cheek out these standards, visit these two websites.

Common Core Standards Initiative - The official site.

Common Core Curriculum Mapping Project - Is a Gates Foundation project that wrote curriculum maps for (English Language Arts (ELA) core standards. They are intended to be a road map for teachers to implement the CCSS standards in ELA curriculum. This link will take you directly to the grade level maps.

There are lots of new science books, both in the traditional library bound format, and in paperback for classroom use. In Georgia, and other states may soon follow suit, science is now the second indicator for CRCT testing (state testing). In then past, a school attained adequate

yearly progress based on the math and reading scores of students, with a secondary indicator of attendance. That is changing, and as a result schools are going to be looking for new ways to build science content into math classes and English language arts.

Writer alert! This trend probably isn't going to change any time soon, so if you are considering new ideas to propose to a publisher, look for creative ways to combine these subjects.

Lerner Publishing is introducing something they call Lerner Publisher Services. It's books from a

group of four small presses that Lerner with be carrying in their line. I was delighted to find that Gecko Press, an award-winning New Zealand based house is one of the presses, and Lerner will be publishing one book a year from author Joy Cowley. Love her books. Love her. Writers, if you've been to the Highlights Chautauqua conference, you'll recognize her name.

And by the way, I received a very complimentary rejection from Lerner editor, Andrew Karre, on my middle grades novel. I knew they were focusing on their new YA line right now, but it was worth a try.

We're working with a new publisher this year, called Weigl, who have come out with a very cool concept for pairing library bound books with book specific technology, for the price of the library book. They call them AV2 books. This is a good product for both libraries and classroom. You can pull up the videos, info, and games on a whiteboard in the classroom.

And of course, ebooks are still a big deal. More publishers are getting on the bandwagon and getting their act together a little better than last year.

Sing Dance Shout! A New Book

2011-08-01T09:11:00.003-04:00

At last, my new Christian devotional book for middle graders is available! Sing, Dance, Shout! 30 Days of Praise provides 30 devotional lessons on praising God.

The book is divided into four sections. Section one is an explanation of what praise is and what happens when we praise God. Section two introduces the many Hebrew words for praise and additional words, dance, clap and shout, that are often associated with praise. Each chapter defines the word and correlates it to a scripture from the Psalms. Section three focuses on eight reasons the Bible gives for praising God. Section four concludes the book with four lessons on joining with all creation to proclaim the wonder of God.

I began talking with my editor at Christian Focus Publishing two years ago, in late June of 2009. They are a small publishing house in Scotland and I'm delighted to be part of their writing team. Publishing a book is an amazing journey. The second paragraph of this blog post came directly from my proposal. I sent three chapters along with it. When she requested the full book, I sat down and wrote the rest. Then the waiting began.

And as a writer, I move on to the next project all the while hoping this one moves through the process. The acceptance and contract came through in October of 2010. I saw the cover design early this year, proofed the galleys this spring, and finally had my six author copies by late June. But there was still a waiting period. The books weren't available for purchase until mid-July.

Finally, I'm so pleased to be able to say, "You can purchase it at your local Christian bookstore (please support those lovely people) or on Barnes and Noble or Amazon."

If you're local to the Columbus, Georgia area, I'll be signing copies at the Sanctuary, on Airport Thruway near Applebees, on Saturday from 12 to 3 pm. Stop by. I'd love to sign a copy for you.

Poetry Friday: Grief

2011-07-29T08:11:00.003-04:00

Paula Morrow, long time children's literature specialist and former executive editor with the Cricket Magazine group, lost her husband to cancer this month. Though I've only known Paula a short time, her loss touches me deeply. Paula's commitment to helping writers become the best they can be has been a gift to me. And I know what it means to have a husband who is also your best friend--Bob was that kind of man in Paula's life.

This poem from Emily Dickinson is my way of honoring his life and Paula's grief.

As imperceptibly as grief

The summer lapsed away,—

Too imperceptible, at last,

To seem like perfidy.

A quietness distilled,

As twilight long begun,

Or Nature, spending with herself

Sequestered afternoon.

The dusk drew earlier in,

The morning foreign shone,—

A courteous, yet harrowing grace,

As guest who would be gone.

And thus, without a wing,

Or service of a keel,

Our summer made her light escape

Into the beautiful.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Kate Coombs at Book Aunt.

July Highlights

2011-07-28T11:17:00.008-04:00

I didn't intentionally take the entire month of July off from blogging. It just sort of happened. It was a busy month with travel and family and friends--and a little writing, too. Here are some of the highlights.

Vero Beach, Florida

Cliff and I spent three days at Vero Beach early in the month. We stayed at the Costa d'Este resort thanks to the lovely folks at Rourke Publishing. It was a much needed break for both of us. We slept late, walked the beach, and ate fabulous Italian pizza.

This photo of Costa d'Este Beach Resort is courtesy of TripAdvisor

San Diego, California

We drove from Vero Beach back to Orlando. Cliff flew home and I flew to San Diego for the Delaney sales conference. I arrived at baggage claim in time to see the fireworks over the bay. It was a full four days of business meetings, mainly hearing reps from sixteen publishers talk about their new line of books for the fall. I'm planning to try and post some information on what I

learned. So stop by again later in the week. Between meetings, I ate at World Famous, caught up with people I hadn't seen for a year, and walked on the beach. It was a bit surreal to think I had been at the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean in the span of three days. There wasn't much free time and I missed seeing a couple of friends I had hoped to visit with who live in the area. But still, a good week.

Charleston, South Carolina

Mid month we had a wedding in Charleston. Neither of us had ever been to the city, but we have always wanted to go. We had several days to wander the streets and see the beautiful architecture. According to our guide on the city tour, Charleston has more restaurants per capita than any other city in the United States. There were plenty of choices, that's for sure. Cliff's best friend from high school retired here, so we spent one day with them seeing the sights.

This is the Middleton-Pinkney House. Pinkney was a signer of the Constitution from South Carolina. The circular bolts across the building are earthquake bolts, installed in houses built after the earthquake of 1886.

There are lots of churches in Charleston. It's called the holy city. It could easily be called the holey city, too. You need good ankles to walk the broken sidewalks, cobbled stones, and cracked asphalt.

The wedding was held at the chapel at the Citadel. Beautiful, inside and out.

This is called the Heart Gate, by Phillip Simmons, a famous African American artisan and blacksmith. His gates are all over Charleston.

Birmingham, Alabama

For about a year, I've drooled over Margie Lawson's website, wishing I could manage one of her master classes. I couldn't believe it when I found out that the Romance Writers of Birmingham were bringing her in to speak. More on this later, too, but just take my word for it. Margie has a LOT to teach writers.

So here we are almost in August. Hopefully, I'll be back on track.

Poetry Friday: Tortoise or Hare

2011-06-24T09:21:00.004-04:00

After a heavy rain, we found this displaced turtle in the street in front of the house yesterday. He was definitely lost. My daughter gathered him up, and despite his toes touching her, managed to get him to the back yard where he plopped himself back into the creek with speed more like a hare than a ponderous amphibian.

Since I have family here this week, I'm slow getting my Poetry Friday post going. Here is an original poem, written several years ago. Our displaced critter made me think of it. For more Poetry Friday, stop by Carol's Corner and enjoy the roundup.

Tortoise or Hare

I would be the tortoise

If I could choose.

Tender parts

Carefully guarded

By a hard green shell.

A portable hiding place

For those awkward moments.

No need to run,

Just pull in the appendages

And breathe slowly

Until the danger passes.

But some pernicious muse

Had other plans

And without consulting me,

Took my secrets

And made iambic feet

For a bunch of mad rabbits

That care nothing for poetry.

Summer Reads: Too Many Books at Once

2011-06-20T06:13:00.002-04:00

Today I'm wondering just how many books a person can read at one time without feeling totally schizophrenic. Here's my list.

1. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke is in the car. Audio format red by Lynn Redgrave in her stunning voice. It's so intriguing I keep wanting to go somewhere just so I can listen. I know I'm behind times on this one. I didn't even realize there was a movie. I am looking forward to seeing who played all the dark characters. Will watch when I'm done reading.

2. White Darkness by Geraldine Mccaughrean is on the table beside my bed along with my new word journal, started as a result of the weekend poetry retreat with Rebecca Kai Dotlich. I'm reading slowly, making notes in the margins and recording some of the words that taste good on my tongue.

3. I went to the library on Friday to pick up a requested book, InZanesville by Jo Ann Beard. It's setting is 1971, the same year I graduated from high school and the setting of my own middle-grade novel. But I haven't started that one so it doesn't really count yet. While at the library I picked up a copy of What I Saw and How I Lied by Judy Blundell, again to pay attention to how the author incorporates a very distinct time period in American history. It was storming outside, so I sat down and started reading. An hour later, I was completely hooked and brought it home nearly half read. Couldn't sleep that night so I got up and finished it in the wee hours. That's what happens when you're reading too many books at once. So now I can replace What I Saw with Inzanesville in my list.

4. Research book in my office is a compelling read featuring letters from the 1700s. Until Death Do Us Part: The Letters and Travels of Anna and Vitus Bering by Peter Ulf Moller and Natasha Okhotina Lind.

5. Beside my chair in the den is Heaven's Calling: A Memoir of One Soul's Steep Ascent by Leanne Payne, another one to be read slowly and savored.

6. In the basket in the bathroom is Miracle at St. Anna by James McBride about buffalo soldiers in Italy in World War II. Another movie to watch once I finish reading the book.

And then there's the stack I haven't gotten to yet. Sigh.

Poetry Friday: Oven Bird

2011-06-17T05:19:00.001-04:00

I'm working on a project for a museum in Tennessee, writing some information panels for them. This cute little ovenbird is in the tree exhibit. He gets his name from the shape of his nest, which looks like a dutch oven. His call is increasingly loud bursts of "teacher-TEAcher-TEACHER." So for Poetry Friday, my contribution is a Robert Frost poem about this little guy.

The Oven Bird

Robert Frost

There is a singer everyone has heard,

Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,

Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.

He says that leaves are old and that for flowers

Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.

He says the early petal-fall is past

When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers

On sunny days a moment overcast;

And comes that other fall we name the fall.

He says the highway dust is over all.

The bird would cease and be as other birds

But that he knows in singing not to sing.

The question that he frames in all but words

Is what to make of a diminished thing.

More poetry Friday at Check it Out.

Poetry Retreat with Rebecca Kai Dotlich

2011-06-15T16:12:00.003-04:00

It was a lovely, jam-packed, exhausting weekend. I felt like I was trying to soak up a lifetime of poetry from the very generous, Rebecca Kai Dotlich.

My very excited friend, Kathy (left) who's new to children's writing, rode up with me to the retreat and kept me from getting lost. Well, almost. We did fine until the very last turn. But what's a road trip without a little adventure? And I was thrilled to have some long conversations with poet and friend, Irene Latham.

My roommade extraordinaire, Gail Karwoski (in blue)! We won't talk about the mice we shared our space with. Mice are some of my favorite characters in children's literature. Ralph on his motorcycle. Reepicheep. Bella and Bean. All delightful until they inhabit the real world of your bathroom.

The intimate setting, about twenty writers ensconced on the side of a mountain in north Georgia, gave us plenty of opportunities to rub elbows with Rebecca. I'm just hoping some of that lyrical magic rubbed off on me.

And of course, blowing bubbles is necessary for writing poetry!

Poetry Friday: Hanging Out with a Bunch of Poets

2011-06-10T08:19:00.005-04:00

I'm looking forward to a weekend with a roomful of Southern Breeze poets who will be "Diving into Poetry" with Rebecca Kai Dotlich. And since I still haven't packed, I leave you with a "loaf of poetry."

A Loaf of Poetry

by Naoshi Koriyama

you mix

the dough

of experience

with

the yeast

of inspiration

and knead it well

with love

and pound it

with all your might

and then

Read the rest here.

Anastasia Suen hosts Poetry Friday at Picture Book of the Day.

The Matter of Perspective

2011-05-31T09:10:00.004-04:00

This fall I'll be teaching two short classes at our local university's continuing ed center. One is on characterization. The other is on point of view. So I'm mulling over some thoughts, generally while I walk. You'd think I would remember to take my phone or my voice recorder with me to capture all the fantastic thoughts I rehearse with myself as I'm trekking through the neighborhood. Okay, they're probably only fantastic at the moment I think them, sort of like the notes you write down in the middle of the night and throw out in the morning. What on earth was I thinking!?

Anyway I generally don't remember the recorder until I'm about a half mile from home. But I'm rambling.

So, point of view. I took an online class a few years back with the Writers Studio. I highly recommend their classes. They teach the concept of a persona narrator. Instead of saying point of view, they talk about who is telling this story. As the author, I'm not really the storyteller. I create a persona narrator who tells the story from his/her perspective. It really is about perspective. How close is the persona narrator to the story, to the main character.

I had a fun interaction with a couple of my kids this weekend that illustrated the idea of perspective. My son, who lives in Minnesota was down for a few days. It gets hot fast in the Deep South, although I think this year it has been faster than normal. So my son and his Minnesota frame of reference could barely stand to be outside, despite the fact that he was raised here.

I talked with my daughter on the phone later that day. She's in Portland, Oregon. She was freezing.

"We took Stephen to dinner on Sunday night. The bank themometer read 102 at 6:30 in the evening," I told her. "I can't believe it's this hot already and it's not even June yet."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"It's 63 degrees in my house right now," she said. "And it's almost June."

Perspective.

When we got off the phone, I sent her this clip I had watched earlier in the day. I'm doing some research on Siberia.

It's all a matter of perspective.

Poetry Friday and a Tadpole Summer

2011-05-27T08:13:00.005-04:00

I liked this poem that came today from Your Daily Poem. It's perfect for the last days of school as students, teachers, and parents take a deep breath on "the tadpole end of this adventure."

For more Poetry Friday, swim on over to My Juicy Little Universe where Heidi is hosting the round up.

Streamside, May 2010

by Suzanne Comer Bell

Dear Parents,

Forgive us. We’ve been swept away with your children.

We hope to return when school is over …

only, we don’t know exactly when that will be,

for school never ends, really,

and now that this year is finished (or nearly so!),

your child will be handed safely to another one of us—

passed along like raindrops in this cycle of life learning

that we’re all a part of—

we feel so fortunate, so fat-gilled, to have been on

the tadpole end of this adventure, that

we wanted to take a moment,

before the next wave arrives, and

our legs

Read the rest here.

Virginia Geographic Regions

2011-05-23T08:26:00.004-04:00

I'm very pleased with the reception of my new books on Virginia. Word is that they are flying off the shelves. This is a very good thing in Virginia. A recent state history text book was pulled from the system after pages of mistakes were found. My publisher and I worked closely with a Virginia curriculum chief and history guru in the Danville area. His input was invaluable as he critiqued and fact checked each manuscript.

The Virginia, My State books have been endorsed by the educators in state. We are grateful for their enthusiasm and affirmation.

Jill Ward, editor and publisher at State Standards Publishing launched her company three years ago. Her vision is to provide standard aligned books for state studies at grade level. The Virginia Geographic Regions series measures a solid fourth grade level in accelerated reader, Lexile, and guided reading levels.

If you're a Virginia educator and have used the books, I would love to hear from you.

Poetry Friday: Sickle Cell Pain

2011-05-20T06:26:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I listened as a precious young woman took the pain she carried and placed it in hands bigger than hers. Two brothers lost to sickle cell anemia. And now a mother lost to Alzheimer's. I cried with her as she cried. Healing tears saturated with years of grief. It was my privilege to stand beside her on this journey.

I realized that I know almost nothing about sickle cell anemia. I thought it was one of those diseases that someone was finding a cure for. I was wrong.

Today, in honor of my friend and all those who suffer or have lost someone to sickle cell anemia, here is Jasmine Baily's "Sickle Cell."

There's more Poetry Friday with Julie over at The Drift Record.

Gulf Coast Half Ironman

2011-05-09T17:12:00.005-04:00

I spent Mother's Day at the beach.

My younger daughter was in the the Gulf Coast Half Ironman in Panama City Beach, Fla. It was quite an experience. After a 1.2 mile swim into the Gulf, while being lashed by jellyfish, they jumped on bikes and pedaled for 56 miles. Then with legs like jelly, they ran 13.1 miles. I was in awe.

Both my girls like running. They surely didn't get it from me. I was very proud of her.

An interesting part of the trip was seeing this community of athletes, the camaraderie they enjoy, and how supportive they are of one another.

It's a case of "You just don't get it until you experience it."

It made me think of children's authors.

Poetry Friday: Reading Moms

2011-05-06T07:37:00.005-04:00

I have a few memories of my mother reading to me, and she awlays made sure I had books to read myself. I have wonderful memories of reading to my own children as they grew up. Now I love reading to my sweet grandbabies. I'm celebrating this poetry Friday, with Mother's Day sneaking up early, with Strickland Gillilan's tribute to his reading mother.

There's more Poetry Friday at The Family Bookshelf.

The Reading Mother

by Strickland Gillilan

I had a mother who read to me

Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea,

Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,

"Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath.

I had a Mother who read me lays

Of ancient and gallant and golden days;

Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,

Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a Mother who read me tales

Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,

True to his trust till his tragic death,

Faithfulness blent with his final breath.

I had a Mother who read me the things

That wholesome life to the boy heart brings--

Stories that stir with an upward touch,

Oh, that each mother of boys were such!

You may have tangible wealth untold;

Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.

Richer than I you can never be--

I had a Mother who read to me.

Catching Up

2011-05-04T07:47:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I've been showing up at my writing desk and writing. But as you can see, I haven't shown up here lately. So grab a cup of coffee and let's catch up.

I have a few deadlines to meet, which always take precedence over platform development and blog posts. I even missed Poetry Friday last week! I have a proposal due in a few weeks for a follow up book with Christian Focus. My first middle-grades devotional book with them is due out in July. I'm excited about that, but we'll talk more about that as the time gets closer.

I have some work for hire books due this month, so I'm working hard right now to get those finished. They are first grade biographies and the challenge is to get enough facts in the books to qualify for an AR level, but to keep the sentence structure and language simple enough that the AR level below a 2.0. Nice challenge.

I finished up the rewrite of my middle grades novel. I've been working with Paula and Bob Morrow to help me get it in shape to send to an editor. They are a great team, if you're looking for an extraordinary critique service.

That elephant is still in the room, but I'm stroking its trunk and trying hard to convince the sweet thing to cooperate with me.

I have some fun family news, too. My oldest daughter graduated from the Aveda Institute in Portland and is now a licensed esthetician. I can't wait for her next visit and my own private facial from my sweet girl.

My younger daughter will be in the Panama City Half Ironman this weekend. We are heading down to watch. I'll be holding my breath, especially while she swims out into the Gulf!

Just Show Up

2011-04-21T20:37:00.003-04:00

I spent a few days this week away. My own private writer's retreat. Worked on some poems for the Southern Breeze Poetry Workshop in June. Roughed out a proposal for a second devo book for my publisher in Scotland. Then finally forced myself to sit down and work on the elephant in the room. The WIP that desperately needs finishing. I've only rewritten the darn thing five or six times already. Tried picture book format, tried third person narration, tried first person narration. Tried present tense instead of past. Chunked it all and started over as straight nonfiction. Finally found my stride. It feels right. That's a good feeling.

I kept telling myself, "You just have to show up. Sit down and write, and eventually you'll figure it out."

Just show up. I can't remember which prolific writer said that was the secret to his success. Someone we would probably all recognize.

So, I'm trying to show up. And perhaps seeing some progress.

And learning that music "does" help with the creative process. I never was allowed to have music playing when I did homework, so I never learned to work with noise in the background. My totally awesome critique partner burned me a CD of opera. And lo and behold, I can work with music in the background if I can't understand the words. I discovered that Gregorian chants work pretty well, too.

Poetry on a Red Dirt Road

2011-04-15T05:59:00.003-04:00

I read a poem this week from Your Daily Poem, and memories rushed over me like creek water after a storm. So my post today is a few rambling thoughts from the past, along with Kay M. Sanders' wonderful poem.

My grandmother, the whole family called her Mama, lived on a red dirt road. Mama laughed a lot. I remember standing in her kitchen with my cousins, our greased hands pulling taffy until it turned white. Its sweet flavor was unlike any store-bought candy. Our mouths watered and our teeth stuck together. The only way out of that clench was to suck on the wad until you could pry your jaws apart.

Mama liked to show us how limber she was. She could put her palms on the floor without bending her knees even when she was in her sixties. She could write with her left hand as well as she could with her right. That's where I learned what ambidextrous meant.

She could often be found sitting at her old black upright piano, pounding out sixteen versions of "The Sweet Bye and Bye."

She was quite a lady and this poem made me think of her.

There's more Poetry Friday at Random Noodling.

Let Me Have That Red Dirt Road

by Kay M. Sanders

You can have this modern, cement bridge, with its supports and side rails,

the way it begins long before the creek comes into view

and continues long after the creek has been left behind.

Let me have that old plank bridge I feared as a child,

so close to the creek I could hear the water licking its lips,

see vines straggle from bent-over trees like an old man’s beard

dragging in his red-eye gravy.

A stylish brick church stands there now,

its windows stained and pure, organ throned on high,

the building humming an air-conditioned tune.

Peel away these brick additions and let me have

that old clapboard church encased within,

windows open to catch the breeze,

air filled with the rustle of funeral-home fans,

piano chords so lusty the vase of flowers marches

to Zion right along with the congregation.

Read the rest here.

Poetry and Potluck

2011-04-13T20:51:00.003-04:00

I'm not a culinary genius by any stretch of the imagination. Although I can make a mean pot of soup with whatever happens to be left in the cupboard.

Tonight I managed to open a jar of spaghetti sauce and thaw a pound of ground meat, in the microwave, of course. I never seem to have the forethought to let anything thaw in its own good time.

Yesterday I cooked frozen pizza. Oh, they were organic, but still all you do is open a box and throw it on the oven shelf.

The night before that I stopped on the way home and picked up a couple of already baked potatoes and brought them home. Then I stuffed them with spinach leaves and leftovers from the rotisserie chicken bought at the grocery store the night before.

I did manage to grill steaks over the weekend, so I'm not hopeless. There was a time that I cooked for six every night. Sometimes I even spent a day cooking for the entire month, but I was younger and had more energy and hungry mouths to feed.

Cooking has never been an art form for me, but for some, it's pure poetry. Jama Rattigan is one of those people. I think dinner at Jama's house must be an amazing event. Jama's blog, Alphabet Soup, offers" food for thought and fine whining." During the month of April, she has invited some wonderful poets to share their poems and a favorite recipe. Stop by and savor the flavors.

Poetry Friday: Heavenly Playground

2011-04-08T06:17:00.002-04:00

With Easter approaching, I find myself turning to some poems that lift my heart, that turn the ordinary things of life into something extraordinary. Though, I'm sure we all agree poetry does that most of the time anyway. This is one of my favorites. I love the pure fun of it. It comes from British poet and speaker, Adrian Plass. You may enjoy this interview with the poet.

For more Poetry Friday, stop in at Madigan Reads.

Heavenly Playground

by Adrian Plass

Oh God, I’m not anxious to snuff it,

but when the Grim Reaper reaps me,

I’ll try to rely on

my vision of Zion,

I know how I want it to be.

As soon as you greet me in Heaven,

and ask what I’d like, I shall say,

“I just want a chance

for my spirit to dance,

I want to be able to play.

Tell the angels to build a soft playground,

designed and equipped just for me,

with a vertical slide

that’s abnormally wide,

and oceans of green PVC.

There’ll be reinforced netting to climb on,

and rubberized floors that will bend,

and no one can die,

so I needn’t be shy

if I’m tempted to land on a friend!

I’m gonna go mad in the soft, squashy mangle,

and balmy with balls in the swamp,

coloured and spherical,

I’ll be hysterical!

I’ll have a heavenly romp!

There’ll be cushions and punch bags and tires

in purple and yellow and red,

and a mushroomy thing

that will suddenly sing

if I kick it or sit on its head.

There’ll be fountains of squash and ribina

to feed my continual thirst,

and none of that stuff

about “You’ve had enough,

surely heavenly bladders won’t burst.

I suppose I might be too tall for the entrance,

but Lord, chuck the rules in the bin.

If I am too large,

tell the angel in charge

to let me bow down and come in.

Poetry and Play

2011-04-05T18:51:00.003-04:00

As writers, we play with language. We play with sounds, rhymes, rhythm, phrasing, assonance, dissonance, meaning and logic. We play with plot, characters, themes, goals, journeys, and conclusions. Often, all this playing becomes work. We can hit a blank page or a brick wall. And we have to learn to play all over again.

Author Susan Taylor Brown found herself in this dilemma. She gave herself permission to play for the whole month of March. This month for National Poetry Month, Susan is posting a poem a day, in which she ponders her month of play, lessons she learned about herself, her craft and life in general. Stop by her blog and enjoy!

Pigs and Poetry

2011-04-04T00:59:00.003-04:00

Saturday was my daddy's birthday. He's 84. My two oldest grandkids were here for the weekend, so we all took him to breakfast. My nine-year-old grandson ate and ate and ate. We watched and waited and laughed at the amount of food he consumed. My daddy, who grew up in the backwoods of northern Alabama, finally said, "He eats like a fattening hog." Then he went on to describe the process of penning up a hog in a small space with all the food he can eat. That hog just eats and sleeps and wakes to eat again.

So where is this going here in National Poetry Month?

Bloggers all over the Kidslitosphere are filling the feed buckets with poetry offerings this month. And I'm happy as a hog in slop. Yeah, I grew up in the South, too.

I'm still in recovery mode from my frenetic last few months of work, so I don't have the energy to write a poem a day, a haiku a day, or give you a poetry pointer a day. I just want to sit in the pen and partake of the abundant offerings. Just eat and sleep poetry for a month.

So, if you stop by my blog this month, I'll direct you to the trough I'm enjoying at the moment. By the end of the month, we'll all be poetry fat and happy.

Start your week with a Poetry Party. Head on over to Live. Love. Explore! where the ultimate hostess, Irene Latham, knows how to throw some poetry around. Irene is the poetry editor at the Birmingham Arts Journal, as well as a wonderful children's author. She'll be offering poetry quotes, trivia, craft tips, publishing resources and free books all month long. Don't miss this one.

Poetry Friday: An April Night

2011-04-01T10:25:00.003-04:00

Welcome to April and National Poetry Month. For some great ways to celebrate poetry this month browse this page at Poets.org. Explore thirty ways to celebrate. Carry a poem in your pocket. Send a poem to someone you love. Attend a poetry reading. There should be many venues available tis month. Try your hand at writing a poem, even if you have never written one before. Sign up for an e-mail poem a day. There are several websites who offer this service. My favorite is Your Daily Poem.

My contribution today on this first Poetry Friday of National Poetry Month is by Lucy Maud Montgomery. I loved ANNE OF GREEN GABLES. I didn't discover Montgomery's wonderful red-haired imp until I was an adult. When Public Television produced the series, I fell in love with Ann. My daughters and I watched it over and over. In fact when my oldest was getting ready to leave home, we went to a tea room with some friends one day. The music playing was from the movie. We looked at each other and both had tears running down our cheeks. Music and memories and Ann. Oops. Anne with an "e."

I know Ms. Montgomery has her own lovely voice, but when I read this poem, it's that Anne-girl I hear.

Enjoy April.

An April Night

by Lucy Maud Montgomery

The moon comes up o'er the deeps of the woods,
And the long, low dingles that hide in the hills,
Where the ancient beeches are moist with buds
Over the pools and the whimpering rills;

And with her the mists, like dryads that creep
From their oaks, or the spirits of pine-hid springs,
Who hold, while the eyes of the world are asleep,
With the wind on the hills their gay revellings.

Down on the marshlands with flicker and glow
Wanders Will-o'-the-Wisp through the night,
Seeking for witch-gold lost long ago
By the glimmer of goblin lantern-light.

The night is a sorceress, dusk-eyed and dear,
Akin to all eerie and elfin things,
Who weaves about us in meadow and mere
The spell of a hundred vanished Springs.

Join Amy at the Poem Farm for more Poetry Friday.

John Glenn and the Lights of Perth

2011-03-31T21:58:00.003-04:00

One of the reader's theater scripts in my new book is about John Glenn and his two trips into space. Both times the citizens of Perth turned their lights on to send a welcome message to the astronaut. I posted about it here on my blog tour.

My grandson's class decided to perform the script after they finished their science unit on space. The kids liked it so much, they decided to create props, come up with costumes, and memorize their lines. While I was in Texas last week, I got to see the dry run on Friday afternoon. They performed the play for the rest of the school.

On Monday night, they performed it for the PTA. My son took this photo of a very cool John Glenn. I was more proud to be the star's grandmother than to be the author of the play!

A Week with Grandbabies

2011-03-24T16:17:00.002-04:00

My oldest granddaughter informed me last night as I was putting them to bed that she is not a grand baby. She's too big to be a baby.

If you're a grandmother, you know the answer to that one.

I'm having a grand week with all my grand babies--the big ones and the little ones.

I'll be back to blogging next week.

Poetry Friday: Poems About Fire

2011-03-18T09:12:00.005-04:00

Some of you may know that I'm a sales rep for a book company out of San Diego. I am in and out of schools throughout the year helping teachers, literacy coaches, and librarians find what they need to meet our Georgia Performance Standards. Twice a year when the new lists come out from educational publishers, I get book samples. It's great fun, as these are books that we usually don't get to see. They never hit the bookstores. Occasionally an award winner will show up in Barnes and Noble, but they usually go straight to schools.

This year my territory expanded when another rep nearby retired. So a few weeks ago I met her and she loaded up my car with her book samples. Don't ask where I put them when I got home. There are still some I haven't figured out. I generally troll through them, checking pub dates, exploring them for concepts that fit my needs and those of my clients. If they are over

three years old, I no longer include them in my sample buckets when I go into schools. It's always preferable to show the newest books available.

Once I collect all the "old" books, I start making give away bags. Some of my schools get practically no money. They are caught in the middle. Not poor enough to get federal money; not wealthy enough to have a PTA that supplies their needs. I love delivering these goody bags of books. This might be my favorite part of the job.

And of course, as I'm going through those "old" books, if something strikes my fancy, I claim it for my own shelf.

That's what happened with this book, "Poems About Fire." It's one in a series of books called the Elements in Poetry. The other books are poems about water, air, and earth. They are published by Cherrytree Books. This is a UK publisher whose books are distributed in the States by Black Rabbit Books. I love Black Rabbit. They exist in the educational market, but defy the rules in some sense. They are different. Higher reading levels. Unconcerned about fitting into the Accelerated Reader box. Offering information that is often not included in books for children. You can see some of their philosophy here.

Since "Poems about Fire" is written by UK poets and compiled by Andrew Fusek Peters, the flavor of the book is not standard fare for us. Poems focus on the great fire in London, instead of the San Francisco fire. Excerpts from classic writers come from Robert Louis Stevenson and John Dryden. "Corroboree" by Oodgeroo Noonuccal weaves a story of Aborigines dancing in firelight. "Hang-Gliding over Active Volcanoes" by Brian Moses says it was "like surfin' in a furnace" where he "got singed from my eyebrows to my toes."

This is one of my favorites from the collection. It's a shape poem, and the shape of the flame doesn't show up here on Blogger. So imagine....

Looking into a Fire

by Jim Hatfield

Long

Ago when

The coal in this

Grate was a tree;

The sun shone upon its

Leaves and they held

Tight hold of that

Light for more years

Than you might ever

Count. Tonight,

Looking into the

Crimson glow,

We can feel

The sunlight

Breaking

Free

The

Tree

Lets

Go.

There's more Poetry Friday at A Wrung Sponge.

Poetry Friday: Victor Hugo

2011-03-11T02:20:00.003-05:00

I posted earlier this week about Victor Hugo and Les Miserables, so today I thought I would share one of my favorite Hugo poems. He had an amazing ability to capture a scene and a man's character in such few words. Hugo's father was a soldier for Napoleon. I don't know if this incident actually happened or if Hugo created it from some snippet his father shared or if it was completely from his creative imagination.

After the Battle

Victor Hugo

My father, of all heroes, kindliest,

Attended by the soldier he loved best

(Both for his mighty courage and his height),

Rode, where the battle had been fought, as night

Fell on the slain that cumbered all the ground.

Out of the shadows came a feeble sound.

A Spaniard of the army put to rout

Lay by the road, his life blood ebbing out.

Broken and groaning, on death’s very brink,

He whimpered: “Pity me! A drink! A drink!”

My father offered then to his hussar

A gourd that hung beside his saddle bar.

“Poor wounded man! Give this to him,” he said.

The soldier bent above the livid head

Of one whose mongrel blood had not yet tired

Of hate; who clasped a pistol still and fired;

With aim directed on my father’s brow;

And cried; “Die, Enemy, I curse you now!”

The ball skimmed close—so close his horse reared—then,

“Give him the drink,” my father said again.

Enjoy more Poetry Friday at Liz in Ink.

Remembering Les Miserables

2011-03-08T12:58:00.006-05:00

I watched the 25th anniversary concert of "Les Miserables" on public television this weekend.

It still captures something deep in me. I am still as enthralled, moved, inspired, as I was the first time I saw the black and white version on television.

I was thirteen at the time, and my mother watched the Sunday afternoon matinée every week. I think I must have identified with Cosette and her isolated life. I'm sure I dreamed of someone like Marius who would open the world to me. But the scene that remained in my mind for years afterward was Javert throwing himself into the Seine.

I couldn't have told you then what it was about that scene that lodged so deeply in me. I don't think I understood the drastic difference between living under the law and living in grace, but I did know how it felt to be afraid to do anything for fear of being wrong or doing something wrong. I was raised to be obedient to a fault.

I was a junior in high school when I discovered Victor Hugo and realized that Les Miserables was a book. It took me a while, but I waded through all the French history for the amazing story Hugo told.

The copy I read looked something like this one. I own several other old copies/translations now, and still go back and wade through the politics occasionally.

And of course, then there was "Les Mis." I saw it at the Fox Theater in Atlanta (where "Gone With the Wind" was released) a few years after it debuted. And once more in Mobile. It always moves me to tears.

Hugo was an amazing writer. He was a Romantic in an age when French Classicists ruled the literary scene and had the power to sensor words they didn't consider Classic.

Hugo deliberately antagonized them. If he couldn't find the right word, he invented one, something that just wasn't done by the French Classicists. His plays and poetry demanded freedom for the artists of the world, but he was paid by the king. Eventually he had enough and refused the stipend. Not long after that he moved his family to the Isle of Guernsey in England to avoid being arrested. He wrote Les Miserables there. It had been thirty years since he wrote "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," his only other novel.

I love the concept of living in grace that Jean Valjean embodies. I'm not sure how Hugo's life reflected it, I've never read a biography of him. Maybe that's something I'll put on my "to read" list. But he certainly never let himself be bottled in by the sensors, the literary legalists, of the day.

For me, as a writer, I think living in grace for myself means allowing myself to struggle, to fail, to begin again, while not allowing myself to remain there. Always moving forward, always working toward honing my craft, yet being patient with myself, too.

In her post last Poetry Friday at A Year of Reading, Mary Lee called it approximation, as opposed to perfection. That's a good description for it, I think.

So this week I'm wishing you grace for where you are. Peace in the process, whether it's a manuscript or just life in general.

Poetry Friday: A Light Exists in Spring

2011-03-04T08:13:00.002-05:00

I hope you enjoy a wonderful Poetry Friday. There's more over at The Small Nouns.

My contribution today is from Emily Dickenson.

A Light exists in Spring

Not present on the Year

At any other period —

When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad

On Solitary Fields

That Science cannot overtake

But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,

It shows the furthest Tree

Upon the furthest Slope you know

It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step

Or Noons report away

Without the Formula of sound

It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss

Affecting our Content

As Trade had suddenly encroached

Upon a Sacrament.

Playing Catch Up

2011-03-03T09:31:00.005-05:00

I wanted to clone myself this weekend so that I could be in three places at one time! But alas, I never was very good in science. It's why I write about history and geography.

My son-in-law from across the

continental U.S. was here for a short visit.

My Delaney sales business called me to an English Language Arts conference where literacy guru, Dr. Timothy Rasinski, was speaking.

And the lovely writers from SCBWI Southern Breeze region hosted the annual Springmingle.

Since Springmingle required the entire weekend, I knew that wasn't an

option, despite my wish to be there and hang out with other authorly-type people. Sigh. I hear I missed a great conference and a lot of fun. Sigh, again.

I did go to the ELA conference with a carload of books and tablecloths and book racks and computers, etc. The conference was at Radium Springs Middle School of the Arts. When I met one of the teachers from this particular school, I asked if these kids were the cream of the crop. Not necessarily, she said. Some of them are students the principal is mentoring. They are doing something right over there at Radium Springs.It's an absolutely beautiful school. Students lined the hallways at short intervals offering smiles, greetings, and assistance. It's probably the first sales conference I've been to where there was help in setting up and breaking down. What joy! Help! Amazing! These kids were absolutely wonderful.

I did get to hear Dr. Timothy Rasinski deliver the keynote address. He teaches literacy at Kent State University, but he was at the University of Georgia for a while, too, so we tend to claim him. What an amazing teacher and speaker he is. I came away inspired. I know those teachers did, too. At the book signing table, Dr. Rasinski signed copies of his books.

He has written many, and some of them are reader's theater books.

That was one reason I wanted to connect with him. So participants all had a copy of one of his books in the package, and they weren't selling others, so what else was I to do? I took him a copy of MY reader's theater book to sign. Shameless, I know. But hey, it's what we writer's do. I was thrilled to have his encouragement, in his hand, in my book.

Then back home to enjoy dinner and some time with my sweet son-in-law and my husband.

On Monday, my hubby slammed his pinky finger in the door of his 1966 Ford pickup truck. Not nice. Several doctor visits confirmed it was broken, twice, one actually severed completely. So yesterday morning we were at the hospital for surgery on the finger. Ouch.

Today, I'll be speaking to the professional writer's group at the local university about my role as editor of the Infantry Bugler. That should be fun. My old professor is the advisor to the group.

A busy week in a busy season and I still haven't finished that rewrite. Will get it done by the weekend!

Poetry Friday: Everyone Sang

2011-02-25T02:39:00.001-05:00

We have had a beautiful week in the Deep South. The daffodils and the phlox are blooming. My husband and I sat on the deck for breakfast and listened to the birds. I have a mockingbird who does a perfect imitation of the unlock signal on my car. The trees are still bare, but before long they will be bursting with every color of green in the biggest box of crayons you can buy. It's a bit early for 70 degree temperatures, and may bode a hot summer, but today it makes me want to sing.

I hope you enjoy this gorgeous day. Sarah is hosting more Poetry Friday over at Read Write Believe.

Everyone Sang

by Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing:

And I was filled with such delight

As prisoned birds must find in freedom

Winging wildly across the white

Orchards and dark-green fields; on; on; and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted,

And beauty came like the setting sun.

My heart was shaken with tears; and horror

Drifted away . . . O but every one

Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing

will never be done.

It's Been One of THOSE Days

2011-02-23T16:59:00.002-05:00

My brain is going in too many directions at once!

I get one thing started and something else that absolutely MUST be done today jumps and and starts screaming, "My turn! My turn!"

I need chocolate!

Celebrating with Ash

2011-02-21T02:12:00.002-05:00

Today I'm celebrating the success of my friend and writing partner, Ashley Parsons.

Ash and I have been in a critique group together for four years. It's a classic case of opposites attract. She's young and I'm old, relatively speaking of course. She's an extrovert, no really an extrovert. And I'm an introvert. She's very funny. If we were a comedy routine, I would definitely be the straight man. Somehow in the grand scheme of things, we connected, drawn together by love of story and commitment to excellence in the telling.

Ash recently signed with agent Jodi Reamer at Writer's House. Woohoo! I'm so proud of her and excited about the journey ahead.

You should definitely stop by Ashley's blog, Words of a Feather, and read about her journey to finding an agent. Part one is here. Part two is here. It's classic Ashley, told with humor and glitter cannons booming in the background! And plenty of tips if you're looking for an agent, too.

Poetry Friday: Shipwreck

2011-02-18T05:21:00.003-05:00

This poem was shared on Sunday by poet Jayne Jaudon Ferrer at Your Daily Poem. I've enjoyed the daily poem. Jayne's accessible choices are a great way to begin a writing day, or any other kind for that matter. "Shipwreck" felt like a perfect way to end this Valentines Day week of blogging about explorers. Luís Vaz de Camões (1524 - 1580) was a Portuguese poet who lived just a few years after the Conquistadors conquered the Incas and the Aztecs.

Shipwreck

by Luís Vaz de Camões

Like the weary sailor, the refugee

from wreck and storm, who escapes half-dead,

and then, in terror, shudders with dread

at the very mention of the name of the ‘sea’;

who swears he’ll never sail again, who raves

he’ll stay at home, even on the calmest days,

but then, in time, forgets his fearful ways,

and seeks, again, his fortune above the waves;

I, too, have barely escaped the storms that revolve

around you, my love, traveling far away,

vowing to avoid another catastrophe,

but I can’t, the thought of you breaks my resolve,

and so, I return to where, on that fateful day,

I nearly drowned in your tempestuous sea.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Mary at Great Kid Books.

And the Winners Are...

2011-02-16T06:11:00.002-05:00

Thank you for following along on my virtual book tour. It's been fun for me, and I hope you've learned some things along the way.

Today, I hope you'll stop by writer Mary Cronk Farrell's blog. Mary blogs about history and literature. I'm delighted to be visiting with her today. Mary's book, Fire in the Hole, won several awards, including New York Public Library Best Books for the Teenage 2006, Notable Social Studies Trade Book for Young People 2005. and Bank Street College Best Children’s Books 2005.

Yesterday's Question (the last one): Which explorer fought off a crocodile with her boat paddle?

Mary Kingsley lived a sheltered life caring for her invalid mother. She was in her thirties when both her parents died. She decided to set out for Africa. Not the norm for a single British woman in the 1800s. Mary collected insect specimens for the British Museum, but her interest was in understanding the African people. She hired native guides and traveled to the villages of the Fang (pronounced fong) people who were known to be cannibals. The Fang treated with Mary with kindness, gave her a hut, and allowed her to stay with them. She had a few adventures in Africa. She fought off that pesky crocodile with her canoe paddle. She scratched a hippo behind the ears with her umbrella. And she fell into a lion pit. Only her thick, Victorian skirt saved her from the spikes meant to kill any wild animal that fell into the pit. Mary's greatest contribution to exploration and discovery was her respect for the African people. She did much in her lectures in England to change the attitudes of Europeans.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class

Where do you come up with the ideas for your stories?

Lots of places. Ideas are everywhere. People I see. Magazines I read. Lots of times a book I'm reading will trigger an idea. You just have to pay attention, ask questions, wonder what would happen if.....

How many books have you written?

I have 18 published books. I will have 5 new books out in the spring.

What are the titles of some of the other books you have written?

Georgia Habitats, Georgia Geographic Regions, Greece and Our American Heritage, Virginia Geographic Regions, Tomochichi, Jackie Robinson, Jimmy Carter, Sequoyah

Do you work at night?

Sometimes, but I get sleepy the next day if I stay up too late.

Have you written books based on things that have happened to you?

Not yet.

What is you favorite book by another author?

C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia is an all-time favorite. I also like Tales of the Kingdom by David and Karen Mains. King of Shadows by Susan Cooper. Love that Dog by Sharon Creech. Anything by Andrew Clements.

Which of your books do you think is the funniest?

Most of my books aren't very funny. But Readers Theatre for Global Explorers does have some funny scenes.

Did you write books when you were a kid?

I read lots, but I didn't write them.

And now the winners are:

Readers Theatre for Global Explorers - Gail Handler

How High Can We Climb? - Robyn Hood Black

I, Matthew Henry - Irene Latham

Please email me your mailing address and I'll get the books to you.

Thanks again for joining me on the adventure. Never stop exploring. You'll always be surprised at what you find.

Readers Theatre: A Tool for Homeschoolers

2011-02-15T12:37:00.004-05:00

Today a friend and author, Cara Putman, is hosting me at her blog, The Law, Books, and Life, to chat about my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers. I appreciate Cara helping to get the word out to the homeschool community. Cara grew up as a homeschooled kid when homeschoolers were misunderstood and oddities--about the same time I was a homeschool mom. We were also considered a bit strange.

Cara graduated from high school at sixteen, college at 20, and completed her law degree when she was 27. She wrote her first novel in 2005 and now has eleven books published with more on

the way.

Stop by Cara's blog and visit. And while you're there check out her books.

Things You Never Say to an Editor--at Least Not Before You Have a Contract

2011-02-15T06:42:00.003-05:00

My grandchildren loved it!

That line is one of the standing jokes you hear at writer's conferences. Never tell an editor that your children or your grandchildren or your students or your mother loved your manuscript.

But AFTER it's published, you can crow all you want. And guess what......

My grandchildren loved it!

My grandson took it to his science teacher (notice the subject wasn't social studies, my target audience) and she loved it. The class had just finished their unit on space, so they used the script on John Glenn. The class loved it. Now they are working on costumes and learning lines to turn it into a play they will perform for the PTA. And hopefully the PTA will love it!

Am I a proud grandma or what?

Yesterday's Question: Why do you love Reader's Theater?

I love reader's theater because kids love it, because teachers love it. And I love giving those students and teachers a creative way to explore history.

I'll be in Texas in March to see the newest addition to my son's family. I have seven grands now. While I'm there, I'm looking forward to visiting Mrs. Gill's fourth grade class. In the meantime, they have been following my blog tour. Each day I've posted answers to a few of their questions. They were full to bustin' with questions. I'm trying to answer as many as possible.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class

Have you ever had writer's block?

Yes. I've found that going for a walk or working in the yard usually helps. My ideas sort themselves out while I'm doing other things.

When do you take a break from writing?

I don't like sitting at the computer for more than about an hour or two at a time. So I take short breaks to stretch or snack.

Have you won any awards for your writing?

Not yet. But knowing that you liked my book is like getting an award.

Did all the school work help you become a writer?

Yes. It sure did.

Do you use a dictionary when you write?

I do. I actually have several different kinds. I have a regular dictionary, a rhyming dictionary, a describing dictionary and a reverse dictionary for when you can't quite think of the right word. I have a Children's Writer's Word Book that tells me what words children learn at different grade levels. This is especially helpful when I'm writing for lower grades. I might want to say "The explorer was courageous." That's fine for a fourth grade reader. The word book tells me that "courageous" is a fourth grade word. But if I'm writing for a younger audience,"Bold" is a second grade word that means almost the same thing. So I might change my sentence if my goal is for second grade readers to be able to read the sentence by themselves.

What skills do you need to become a writer?

You must be willing to experiment with stories and play with words. You must be willing to accept help and constructive criticism, but you must trust yourself, too.

What's your favorite book that you have written?

I think my favorite might be the one that's coming out later this year. It's a book of devotions for eight- to twelve-year-olds. It's called Sing, Shout, Dance: Thirty Days of Praise. I'm looking forward holding that one in my hands.

What made you become an author?

I was a pretty shy kid growing up. Even as an adult, I am slow to voice my opinions about things. Writing is a way for me to express myself, my thoughts, my ideas, to find my own voice.

What age did you start writing?

I started keeping a diary when I was eight. As a teenager, I wrote in a journal regularly. I did that for most of my life. I started writing articles and essays for adults when I was about forty. I started writing stories for children about ten years ago.

Have you ever thought about modernizing a fairytale?

I have thought about it, but I haven't tried it yet.

When do you plan on writing another book?

I'm working on two other books right now. One is a historical fiction chapter book. The other is a nonfiction picture book.

Today's Question (the last one): Which explorer fought off a crocodile with her boat paddle?

Tomorrow I'll announce the winners of the three books I'm giving away. Be sure to stop by and see if you won.

We'll Leave the Lights On For You

2011-02-14T00:32:00.006-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day and welcome to my virtual blog tour celebrating the release of my new book, Reader's Theatre for Global Explorers.

Today, I want to walk you through my journey to publishing this book. It was a real adventure. One that you might want to take yourself. But first...

Yesterday's Question: What city sent a messages to an explorer in outer space?

Answer: Perth, Australia. Astronaut John Glenn’s first trip into outer space was in 1962 on the Friendship 7. Citizens of Perth decided to send Glenn a message. Everyone in the city turned on their porch lights. As the capsule approached Australia, Glenn noted to Mission Control that he could see a huge area all lit up. It was the good folks in Perth.

Thirty-six years later, Glenn returned to space in the Space Shuttle Discovery for medical experiments designed to explore the effects of aging on the human body. Technology was much improved, and the Discovery was farther from earth than the Friendship 7 had been. The citizens of Perth weren’t sure their lights would be visible this time, but they turned them on anyway. As he approached Australia, Glenn said, “The coastline is coming into view. I can see the lights. I think it looks even better now than it did all those years ago.” Now that’s a welcome.

Targeting a Publisher

Now, let's talk about the writing process. To see the full list of Readers Theatre books available from Libraries Unlimited, click here for the home page. Choose "Search by Series" in the left hand menu. Move your cursor onto the drop down list, then use your down arrow to scroll down until you see Readers Theatre.

This is where I began my journey. I went to the library and checked out a few of their titles. I looked at them and thought, "I could do that."

Take a look at the list. The first step was to find out what was not there. What was I interested in that I could offer as an addition to that list. I like history, so I sent an e-mail query to Sharon Coatney, the editor. She takes e-mail queries, so this is what I sent:

Dear Sharon,

I read on your website that you are interested in receiving queries for Reader’s Theatre topics. Would you be interested in receiving a proposal about Reader’s Theatre for global explorers, ..., or ...?

Sincerely,
Doraine Bennett

I sent three topics, but I can't even remember the other two. Sharon sent an immediate reply back saying, Yes.

So I assumed she meant I could send a proposal for any of my choices. I picked the one I liked best at the time, explorers.

If you're at the website, click on the Contact Us link in the bar across the top of the website. Almost hidden on the page is a heading called "Acquisitions." It says: Manuscript Proposal Guidelines are available here. That was my next step.

I spent about two months writing the proposal, making sure I sent what they asked for. If you would like to see a copy of my proposal, please e-mail me at pdbennett at knology dot net, and I will send you the pdf. You can see how I followed their specific guidelines.

I wrote the proposal. I picked my explorers and wrote a table of contents based on continents. Then I wrote one script. I sent it all to Sharon in hard copy via snail mail in early July. Sharon e-mailed me when she received the proposal to say she would get back to me in a couple of weeks.

Then, I had an e-mail glitch. Who knows what happened? I was at a Delaney sales conference in August when I received a phone call. Sharon wanted to offer me a contract. She hadn't been able to reach me via e-mail. I hung up the phone and did a happy dance in the hotel lobby. No children's writers around to dance with me. Sales people don't necessarily GET IT.

Sharon gave me until the following July to complete the manuscript. Then the real work began. Yes, it was a lot of work, it meant taking a risk, but I didn't spend all those hours of research and writing BEFORE I had a contract. I got the contract first.

You can do the same thing. Target your publisher and dive into deep water.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class

How did you come up with the idea for Sending a Message into Space?

I wanted to include some modern explorers in my book. After all the land on earth was explored and mapped, people didn't stop wanting to explore. They headed into outer space and underneath the ocean.

How long did it take to write Sending a Message into Space?

It took about two weeks to write this one. That was pretty short compared to some of the scripts. Of course, that's not two solid weeks of writing. I still had to cook dinners and wash clothes and do my sales job, as well.

What is your favorite thing about Sending a Message into Space?

I loved the idea that the people of Perth figured out a way to send a message into outer space. And to do it twice, that was pretty special. The set up for this script is a news program. I had fun playing with the commercials. I was trying to give a sense of how the times changed between Glenn's first trip and his last one. Using prices for grocery items that you would recognize today seemed like a good way to do it.

Today's Question: Why do you love Reader's Theater?

Stop by tomorrow for a full day of questions from students in Mrs. Gill's fourth grade class.

Remember on Wednesday I'll hold the drawing for the free books. Leave me a comment and I'll enter your name.

Poetry Friday--You're Kenning, Right?

2011-02-11T02:14:00.007-05:00

Today is day five of my virtual book tour celebrating the release of my new book, Reader's Theater for Global Explorers. But it's also Poetry Friday in Kidslitosphere. Each day of the blog tour, I have asked a question pertaining to one of the explorers in the book. Yesterday's question leads us right into Poetry Friday.

Yesterday's question: Which explorer's story was originally told in poetic form?

The answer is Leif Erickkson. Skalds, court poets of Scandinavian and Icelandic leaders, recorded Nordic history in poems and songs. The Greenlander's Saga is the account of Leif's exploration in Vinland, or present-day Canada.

This was the first script I wrote for the book, the one I sent to my editor with my proposal and table of contents. It was fun coming up with my own kennings (a literary device common in skaldic poetry) and making the interaction between the skald and the narrator humorous.

The skald, or the poet, held a place of honor in Nordic culture. His job was to keep a record of all that happened and to sing the praises of his leader. Instead of naming the thing he meant to talk about, the skald put two other nouns together to describe the object, making a kenning. For example, a farmer is a guardian of the spade. A ship is a whale rider. The skald is the tale-bearer.

The skald might say something like this: You are a true falcon, frost-ruler. Every prince is much worse than you are.

Please stop by Rasco from RIF for more Poetry Friday. Leave me a post with your own kennings, and I'll enter your name in the drawing for three free books. See Day One post for descriptions.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class:

Have you ever written poetry?

I have, and I love writing it. Here's a poem I wrote.

Cancelled Flight

An ocean of travelers

sprawl across islands of baggage

like scurvy-ridden sailors

adrift on a windless sea.

A disembodied voice

announces another numbered flight

that will not reach home.

I close my eyes

and wish I were nine,

lying in the back seat

where I watched

the slow strobe

of lights

flash by,

felt

the gentle

pressure on my side

as the car

turned right

and climbed

the hill

toward

home.

Today's Question: What city sent a messages to an explorer in outer space?

Monday, I'll be talking about how I landed the contract for this book before writing it. Enjoy your weekend.

Editor Interview - Sharon Coatney, Libraries Unlimited

2011-02-10T05:56:00.000-05:00

Today I am so excited to host an interview with my editor, Sharon Coatney. Sharon is the Senior Acquisitions Editor at Libraries Unlimited, A Division of ABC-CLIO.

Tell us a little about yourself, Sharon.

I was a teacher and a school librarian for 30 years in Kansas. I have been active in the American Library Association for many years, serving as the President of the school division, American Association of School Librarians and as a Councilor at Large of the ALA for 8 years. I like to read, travel and visit my two grandchildren. We live with our dog, Wonder Dog, and a strange black cat, Electra, in a beautiful wooded area of eastern Kansas in a rural setting near Lawrence, home of the KU Jayhawks!

How did you become an editor?

I started as an English teacher in a rural K-12 school. My children went to school there and I was going to have them in my class. My husband suggested I get a library degree so I wouldn't teach my own children. So I did. My first job was part time at the same school, so I ended up teaching my kids anyway. Later I commuted to a larger school in the city. It was a sort of model library that had won awards. The senior librarian there insisted that we become part of the American Library Association. I became very active in the association and its government and met a lot of people. As changes took place in my school, I began looking for other things to do. Through networking with the folks at ALA, I took a job as a consultant for Libraries Unlimited. About ten years ago, I retired from teaching and went to work for them full time. It evolved through time and networking, but I was always an editor in the sense that I was an English teacher.

Describe a typical work day.

I work at home. I have an office upstairs that looks out over our land. I can see the pond in the back yard. It's a nice place to work. I usually work from 9 am to 5 pm, but it's a flexible schedule if I need to go out for something. I do travel a lot. Last year I went to 11 conferences. They are library and teacher conferences, so they are usually in the spring and the fall.

Do you spend most of the day reading manuscripts?

Yes, I read manuscripts and proposals. My job as acquisitions editor is to find manuscripts for the company, so I do a lot of e-mailing and phone conversations with people. Our editorial team meets once a week to discuss any books we're considering. And of course I read all the manuscripts that I'm working with. Last year I put 40 books into production.

What makes a proposal stand out?

We are primarily a library publisher. We do have a small Teacher Idea Press, but even those books must be something that a librarian in a school would use or want to have in her media center for teachers. The Readers Theatre books are in this category. So I'm looking for that focus in any proposal I read. I've learned after doing this for many years that if a proposal isn't very clear, there's no point in going forward. There will be so much developmental editing, it isn't worth it.

Do you write, as well as edit?

I do. I have a book coming out this spring called, The Many Faces of Library Leadership. It's a collected volume of essays by people in the field, and I wrote a chapter for the book. There's a series of books called the MAC, Information Detective series. I've written the educator's guides for those. I wrote a column for five years in Library Magazine. Now I write a column on leadership in a magazine our company owns, called School Library Monthly. And I do have a picture book I've been trying to get published for many years. It's a family story I wrote for my kids years ago when I was teaching, and it was very successful in the classroom. But you know how that goes. It's hard to get picture books published.

What kind of proposal would you like to see come across your desk?

I'm looking for library information right now. Anything on eBooks and how to use them, or eReaders, the kind of policies libraries should use for these new tools. I'm looking for anything on the common core standards and incorporating them into school library use. Whatever is new in education and library land.

What should writers know before submitting a proposal to you?

New writers don't always know they should not submit a proposal to more than one publisher at a time. I'm not talking about query letter, but a formal proposal.

Thank you for joining me today, Sharon.

Here is Sharon's contact information if you would like to send a query or a proposal.

Sharon Coatney

Sr. Acquisitions Editor Libraries Unlimited

A Division of ABC-CLIO

scoatney@abc-clio.com

www.abc-clio.com

Free Download: If you would like to see my proposal for Readers Theatre for Global Explorers, e-mail me at pdbennett@knology.net. I'll send you a pdf of the proposal, and you can compare it to the submission guidelines on the website at Libraries Unlimited.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class:

What is one thing you don't like about being an author?

Endings are the hardest thing for me to write. I don't like it when I can't find the end!

How long have you been writing stories?

I've been writing stories for children for about ten years.

Which book was the most difficult to write?

The one I'm working on at the moment!

Yesterday's Question: Who was the first woman to circumnavigate the globe?

Answer: Jeanne Baret. Jeanne’s journey began in 1766 on the French ship Etoile. Jeanne appears in Readers Theatre for Global Explorers as a monologue. She lived in a small French village all her life where she cooked, cleaned and took care of the garden, but she wanted to see the world. After her parents died, she found a job as a housekeeper for Dr. Philibert Commerson. When the doctor announced that he was had been invited to be part of the first French expedition around the world, Jeanne determined to find a way to go, too. She disguised herself as a man, like her namesake Joan of Arc, and hired onto the ship as a servant. They were half way around the world before anyone discovered she was a woman.

If you’d like to know more about Jeanne’s remarkable journey, read How High Can We Climb: The Story of Women Explorers by Jeannine Atkins. It's one of the free books I'll be giving away in the drawing.

Today's Question: Which explorer's story was originally told in poetic form?

It's a perfect question for tomorrow's Poetry Friday in the Kidslitosphere. Leave a post and I'll enter you name for the drawing for the three books I'll be giving away.

Virtual Book Tour: Global Explorers--Reader's Theater

2011-02-09T03:33:00.008-05:00

Welcome to day three of my virtual book tour. I'm celebrating the release of my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers.

I'm visiting a my good friend, writer and poet, Irene Latham today at her blog, Live. Love. Explore! to talk about using reader's theater to teach history. I love Irene's blog title. What more perfect place can there be to talk about a book on explorers? While you're there check out Irene's newest book of poetry, The Color of Lost Rooms explores the ways we experience and survive loss. Her first novel, Leaving Gee's Bend, was nominated for the ALSC Notable Children's Book List and the Cybil Awards. Her next book will be out in 2011 from Roaring Brook Press. Don't Feed the Boy is about a lonely 11-year old boy, born to a Zoo Director mom and elephant keeper dad who barely notice him amid all the other more exotic species. He finds a new friend in the Bird Girl, and with her help, struggles to escape the confines of zoo life. It sounds like a book you don't want to miss.

Yesterday's Question: How do you spell Reader's Theater?

If you posted an answer, any answer at all, you were probably right. There seems to be no standard. In researching books on reader's theater, I have found every possible version of the term.

Readers, Reader's, or Readers'

Theatre or Theater

or any combination therof!

It definitely makes searching a challenge. If any of you library folks out there know a way to

search for multiple variations, I'd love to know what you know.

My publisher, Libraries Unlimited, spells their series Readers Theatre. However, even the designers don't always spell it right. The first cover image I saw had the title spelled Reader's Theater. And incidentally, this is the cover you'll see at amazon.com. It's correct American grammar. But the book, when I held it in my hands, has the official spelling of the Libraries Unlimited set brand. I'm so glad, too. I love spelling it "theatre."

If you're not familiar with reader's theater (correct grammar here), I invite you to take a look at some of the reader's theater gurus. Check out Literacy Connections where their Readers' Theater page offers guides for implementing readers' theater and links to books and online scripts.

Aaron Shepard is a funny guy. You'll enjoy his humorous tips at Reader's Theater Editions. Aaron offers free downloadable scripts that he has authored.

Stop at the Teaching Heart for more scripts and information than you can possibly get through in a day.

Questions from Mrs. Gill's Fourth Grade Class

When did you start working on Readers Theatre for Global Explorers? How long does it take a book to get published and in stores?

I started working on this book in March of 2009. I wrote a proposal and sent it to the publisher to ask if they would be interested in a book about explorers. In August of 2009, they agreed to publish the book. They gave me a deadline of June 2010 to have the book finished. In August of 2010 they sent me a copy of the manuscript to make sure there were no mistakes. I read through it, made some corrections and sent it back. About three weeks later, they sent the

manuscript to me again for final edits. I read through it again, found a few more mistakes and sent it back again. The book was finally published in December 2010. I received my five copies two days before Christmas. By January 2011 it was available in stores. So from the idea to the finished product took almost two years.

Today's Question: Who was the first woman to circumnavigate the globe?

Leave me a comment and I'll enter your name in the drawing for on of the books below. Tomorrow I'll be interviewing my lovely editor at Libraries Unlimited, Sharon Coatney. I'll hope to see you then.

Virtual Book Tour: Global Explorers--Circumnavigation

2011-02-08T03:00:00.015-05:00

Welcome back to my virtual blog tour. Yesterday I began the tour to celebrate the release of my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers. I will be sharing some of my journey, offering free downloads, and holding a drawing for three books.

Today I'm visiting with Gail Handler at Write for the Soul & Visualeyes. Gail was an elementary school for 30 years. Now, she teaches through her writing. I hope you'll stop by Gail's blog. While you're there, read some of the posts about her journey with losing her sight and the tremendous challenges and adaptations she makes to continue living well. Her story is inspiring.

Each day on the blog tour I will be posting a question to pique your curiosity or to hear your opinion. So let's answer yesterday's question.

Yesterday’s question: Who was REALLY the first person to circumnavigate the globe?

Answer: Magellan got the credit, but the poor man died about half way around. Juan Elcano, a Spanish pilot, WAS navigating the final surviving ship that limped into port nearly three years after they started. But personally, I think credit should go to Antonio Pigafetta. You’ve got to love that name, and I did have some fun playing with it. Pigafetta wasn’t even a sailor, just an adventurer who signed on with Magellan’s crew “to see the very great and awful things of the ocean.” He kept a journal that preserved the awful tale of mutiny, betrayal, and treachery.

Magellan was Portuguese, sailing for the Spanish crown. He left port with five fully-loaded ships and crews and four Spanish captains. It was not a good situation from the start, and it only got worse. Before they were even half way around the world, Magellan had one captain executed for mutiny, one(already dead) drawn and quartered, and one left on an island of cannibals. The final captain left Magellan to fend for himself against a storm of angry islanders, but then he (the captain) died of scurvy. Elcano was the only one left who could pilot the ship, but if not for poor Pigafetta, we wouldn't know the story.

Author questions from Mrs. Gill's class:

My grandson's fourth grade class is following along on the blog tour. They have sent me questions for the author. I will feature the class on the blog tour next week, but I wanted to begin answering their questions.

Is it hard being a writer? Is it fun being a writer? It is hard work. Writing is very much like any other job. It takes time and practice to learn the craft and become good at it. Think about a carpenter building a house. Most people can swing a hammer and slap a few boards together, but for a good solid house, you want a carpenter who has learned exactly how far apart the studs go and practiced joining the roof to the walls. The more you do it, the better you become at it. Writing is like that, too. Even though it's hard work, yes, writing is a lot of fun.

Today's question: How do you spell Readers Theatre?

Tomorrow, we'll be visiting a writer friend and poet, Irene Latham, to talk about the benefits of using reader's theater to teach history.

Be sure to leave a post and I'll put your name in the hat for a drawing at the end of the tour. See Day One for a description of the books I'll be giving away.

Virtual Book Tour: Global Explorers, Day 1

2011-02-07T00:03:00.009-05:00

Welcome! Today we begin my virtual book tour celebrating the release of my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers. I'm so glad to have you join me. I will be sharing some of my journey, offering free downloads, and holding a drawing for three books.

Today Nancy I. Sanders hosts an interview with me at her blog. I am thrilled to have Nancy as my first stop on the tour. She's the main reason this book exists. I stumbled upon her blog a couple of years ago and was impressed by her generous wisdom, the practicality of her advice, and her simple, but effective style of sharing. Click on the link to read the interview at Blogzone. (A tip I learned from Nancy: If you click on her link by pressing a "right click" on your mouse, you can choose the option of opening her link in a new tab or window. That way you can browse through her site but keep this window open so you can come back here to post a comment to win a chance at a free book.)

Every March, Nancy's Book in a Month Club walks readers through the process of writing a book--in a month. Okay, so you may not get the whole book written in a month, but you certainly come away with the process. Two years ago, her March posts were on targeting a publisher. I followed along and Readers Theatre for Global Explorers was the result. You can read more at Nancy's blog. I hope you'll take time to explore the rest of her blog while you're there.

Each day, I will post a question about one of the explorers covered in the book. Post a comment, an answer to the question or anything else you would like to post, and I will enter your name for a chance in the drawing at the end of the tour. I will be giving away a free copy of these books:

How High Can We Climb? is a book about women explorers by Jeannine Atkins, a wonderful writer and teacher of poetry. Click on her name to read Jeannine's daily posts on the art of poetry. They are delightful.

I, Matthew Henson: Polar Explorer is written by Carole Boston Weatherford in first-person, eight-line poems. Eric Velasquez captures the heart of Henson and the rugged landscape. It's a beautiful book.

And, an autographed copy of my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers.

Question of the day: Who was REALLY the first person to circumnavigate the globe?

I'll see you here tomorrow for Day Two of the tour. We'll be visiting a fellow writer to talk about how I began writing for the educational market.

Poetry Friday: The Ant Explorer

2011-02-04T00:14:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Poetry Friday! I'm delighted to be the host for this week's roundup. I've enjoyed reading your posts for so long, I'm happy to welcome you here today.

If you've stopped by my blog on Poetry Friday before, you may know that I have often posted poems about explorers over the last year. I was working on a book of reader's theater scripts about explorers, so poems on the subject were a natural extension for Poetry Friday. The book has been released and the publicity part is now in progress. I'll be hosting a blog tour here next week if you have time to stop by and chat.

So today I have another explorer poem to offer you.

C. Michael James Dennis (1876-1938) was an Australian poet and journalist. European exploration of Australia began in the late 1700s. By the turn of the twentieth century most of the continent's geographical features had been discovered and mapped. Dennis must have heard stories of journeys into the outback. Maybe he even interviewed some of the later explorers to hear about their adventures. No water for days on end. Heat so intense a man's hair stopped growing. Hunger so severe they ate their camels' feet or a faithful horse. Blindness from the glaring sun.

Ernest Giles, an Aussie explorer, once said, "Exploration of one thousand miles in Australia is equal to ten thousand miles in any other part of the earth's surface, always excepting Arctic and Antarctic travels." Venturing into the outback was no small matter.

But the truth is that all journeys, no matter how long or how far away have their challenges.

And size is relative.

In this poem, Dennis' sense of humor is evident. Enjoy!

The Ant Explorer

by C. Micheal James Dennis

Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam-

To fare away far away, far away from home.

He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's consent

To see what he should chance to see and here's the way he went

Up and down a fern frond, round and round a stone,

Down a gloomy gully where he loathed to be alone,

Up a mighty mountain range, seven inches high,

Through the fearful forest grass that nearly hid the sky,

Out along a bracken bridge, bending in the moss,

Till he reached a dreadful desert that was feet and feet across.

'Twas a dry, deserted desert, and a trackless land to tread,

He wished that he was home again and tucked-up tight in bed.

His little legs were wobbly, his strength was nearly spent,

And so he turned around again and here's the way he went-

Back away from desert lands feet and feet across,

Back along the bracken bridge bending in the moss,

Through the fearful forest grass shutting out the sky,

Up a mighty mountain range seven inches high,

Down a gloomy gully, where he loathed to be alone,

Up and down a fern frond and round and round a stone.

A dreary ant, a weary ant, resolved no more to roam,

He staggered up the garden path and popped back home.

Whatever your journey, whether it's a new poem or a book or something much more daunting, may you always find your way back home.

Post-Dated Posts

2011-02-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

I'm working on my virtual blog tour that will begin next week to celebrate my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers.

I spent Sunday afternoon writing and post-dating my posts. Did you know you can do that? I'm sure all you experienced blogger knew, but for those of you who haven't tried it, here's what I learned.

On Blogger, there's a blue button in the bottom left corner of the screen called Post Options. If you click it, you have the option of writing your post, compete with pictures and links, and automatically posting to your blog on the day and time you designate. Just be sure that once you put the correct posting date in the box, you click somewhere else on the page for it to save itself. Also, make sure to choose your preference of AM or PM.

How Do You Plan a Blog Tour?

2011-02-01T05:48:00.000-05:00

Planning a blog tour can be a bit daunting. First I decided on my target audience. Last week I e-mailed some folks to ask if they wanted to participate. When I had responses, I started filling in dates on the calendar.

I spent Saturday answering interview questions that bloggers had sent to me. I sent each one a .jpg file of my book cover. I also sent each person a different author photo to use with their interview. I learned this from my good cyber-friend, Nancy I. Sanders, who was instrumental in my writing this book.

I'm excited about the upcoming book tour. I hope you'll join me as I talk about the book and the writing process and the explorers.

Virtual Book Tour

2011-01-31T05:37:00.003-05:00

Next week, I'll be hosting a virtual book tour to celebrate my new book, Readers Theatre for Global Explorers.

This past week I've been planning the tour. That means deciding, first of all, who my target audience is for the book.

Reader's theater is primarily a tool that teachers and librarians use for developing fluency and for making learning fun, so teachers and librarians make up part of my audience.

I would also like to target writers, because reader's theater is really fun to write. It's also a doorway into publication that a lot of folks might not consider.

My book is specifically geared toward social studies classes, so I'd like to find a way to get the word to them.

And because I homeschooled for 13 years, I know the value of tools for creative learning. I'd like to reach some folks in this market.

So this week, I've been e-mailing a few people that I think would be interested in being part of my blog tour. I'm not a great self-promoter, so this is a bit of a challenge for me, but I'm learning to embrace this part of the journey, too.

Last week I saw an old professor who asked if I had set up a book signing at the local Barnes and Noble. Well, no, I haven't gotten that brave yet. Looks like I might have to, though.

Poetry Friday: Poetry Out Loud

2011-01-28T06:34:00.004-05:00

This week I served as one of the judges for the Poetry Out Loud competition at Hardaway High School. The students did a great job, and the winners were wonderful.

Jeremiah won first place with Who Understands Me but Me by Jimmy Santiago Baca. He has a chance to go much farther in the competition with his moving interpretation.

Alexandria won second place with Invictus by William Ernest Henley.

Amanda won third place with What Work Is by Philip Levine.

It was a treat to be part of the evening and to see the love of poetry in these students, the excitement from the large audience of their peers, and the commitment from their creative writing teacher, Mrs. Kathy Honea.

Here is an excerpt from the winning recitation:

Who Understands Me but Me

By Jimmy Santiago Baca

They turn the water off, so I live without water,

they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,

they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,

they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,

they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,

they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,

they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,

they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,

they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,

they give me pain, so I live with pain,

they give me hate, so I live with my hate,

they have changed me, and I am not the same man,

they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,

they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,

who understands me when I say this is beautiful?

who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

Read the rest here. Read more Poetry Friday at Wild Rose Reader.

Couldn't Resist a Few More Photos

2011-01-25T12:01:00.003-05:00

Celebrating a New Life

2011-01-24T09:29:00.005-05:00

My newest grandson was born on Saturday afternoon. His name is Samuel. He has three brothers and a sister. Anna, the single sister, is convinced he looks like her. I just think he's beautiful. They are in Texas and I'm in Georgia, so it will be a month or so before I get to actually hold that sweet little one. I can't wait!

The February edition of the Children's Writer Newsletter came Saturday, too. It has an excellent article by Judy Bradbury entitled Who Cares? Grandparents, Step-parents, & Other Caregivers. One of the books she covers in the article is You are My Wish by Maryann Cusimano Love. Bradbury quotes Ms. Love's editor, Michael Green, who is also President and Publisher of Philomel Books.

Green said, "With regard to grandparents, so many children do not live near them, so experiencing them through a book feels much like a visit. A book like You Are My Wish is a celebration of that relationship, a way to think and talk about someone we love who may nt be available in person each day."

Do you think I'm adding this to my list of books to purchase for the grands?

You bet!

Night

2011-01-23T17:29:00.000-05:00

It's been a cold week--again.

There are beavers in the creek building a dam, which means they are chopping down something I wish they wouldn't chop. I love C.S. Lewis' beavers in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but in real life, those critters are downright destructive.

I've been watching the sky the last few nights as the moon shrinks from full. It rises over the trees and I wonder that it can seem so big, so close. Each night those trees nibble off a small portion of the full circle as it rises and moves away from me, becomes an object in the sky, instead of a magnified presence. It's not wonder so many poets write about the moon.

Since I missed poetry Friday last week, I thought I would go ahead and share this.

Night

Stars over snow

And in the west a planet

Swinging below a star--

Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,

It is not far--

It never will be far.

--Sara Teasdale

What I Love about Coming Home

2011-01-18T16:52:00.002-05:00

The warm smell of cypress wood from the walls.

Full bottles of toiletries.

Watching the creek from my favorite chair.

My own pillow in my own bed.

My office shelves filled with books.

My sweet husband who fills the empty place in my road-weary heart.

Happy Birthday, Dr. King

2011-01-17T19:50:00.003-05:00

While I was in Mississippi this weekend, I went with my daughter to the MLK parade in a little town called Purvis. Since my daughter's job is to accompany the mayor of Hattiesburg (she's PR), I got to accompany both of them. It was my first time in a parade. Fun.

This new set from Rourke Publishing, Little World Holidays and Celebrations, came out last fall. The folks at Rourke do a wonderful job with lower level concept books. The cover shot is a clear example of the vivid, engaging photographs throughout the series.

Author- M.C. Hall

AR levels 2.2 to 2.8

Library Bound

Other titles in the series: Christmas, Cinco de Mayo, Hannukah, Ramadan, and Thanksgiving

Windy!

2011-01-14T06:25:00.001-05:00

The wind is blowing and it's frigid in the deep South. I'm at my daughter's home in Hattiesburg. I opened the door yesterday to go out and the wind nearly pulled me down the steps. Here's a windy poem, with hopes for the sun.

From The Hanging of the Crane

After a day of cloud and wind and rain

Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,

And touching all the darksome woods with light,

Smiles on the fields, until they laugh and sing,

Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring

Drops down into the night.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I hope the wind will blow you over to Laura Purdie Salas' blog, Writing the World for Kids. Laura is hosting Poetry Friday today.

A Few Days in New Orleans

2011-01-13T17:44:00.003-05:00

I flew into New Orleans on Friday. Spent a couple of days with my best friend and super proofreader, Sarah.

We had beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe du Monde, ate breakfast at a hole in the wall juice bar, wandered around a great used book store.

Then I spent three days at a Delaney sales conference. Publisher upon publisher talking about their new books for spring. It was a good week.

This is the Capstone presentation. Of course, the photo is lousy and you can't see his new books on the screen. Also heard from Heineman, Lerner, Rourke, Bearport, Bellwether, and others. Lots of wonderful new books in the educational market.

I'm spending the rest of the week with my daughter in Hattiesburg, MS. It's been a nice few days to recover and regroup after some long days of meetings. And it's given me some time to work on a rewrite of the current WIP. It's always easier once you actually start than it is when you're thinking about it!

Poetry Friday and Celebrating

2011-01-07T06:56:00.004-05:00

I'm doing a happy dance this week. My new book with Libraries Unlimited arrived.

Actually it arrived two days before Christmas, but life had to slow down long enough for me to enjoy the happy dance. It was fun sharing with my children and giving the first copy to my fourth-grade grandson. I'm only just now slowed and steady enough to share it with you.

The book contains 20 scripts and 10 monologues and covers 45 explorers throughout history. It was a lot of fun and and a lot of work. I'm thrilled to hold it in my hands. I hope to schedule a virtual book tour sometime in February. I'd love to stop in at your blog and talk about my book. Let me know if you're interested.

So for good reason, I'm back to explorer poems. There's plenty more Poetry Friday to be enjoyed at my good friend Irene Latham's blog, Live. Love. Explore! What a great place for today's post to land!

Of the many books I read a lot of books on explorers, some stand out more than others.

I, Matthew Henson: Polar Explorer by Author: Carole Boston Weatherford is a favorite. I love her use of preterition. Saying what she's not talking about to draw attention to that very thing. Beautiful illustrations by Eric Velasquez bring Henson's struggles and the journey to life.

Here is the beginning:

I did not walk forty miles

from the nation’s capital

to Baltimore’s busy harbor to eye

ships from a dock. Though just thirteen

I yearned for a taste of the adventures

that I had heard old sailors speak of,

to explore the seven seas

and somehow find my calling.

I did not start as a cabin boy, climb

the ranks to able-bodied seaman,

sail five continents, and learn

trades and foreign tongues to be shunned

by white crews who thought blacks

were not seaworthy. I did not chart

this course to drift in humdrum jobs

ashore. My dreams had sails.

I hope you are holding to your New Year's goals. May all your dreams have sails.

Plotting Goals

2011-01-03T15:58:00.003-05:00

I've begun to look ahead and think about my goals for the year. I try very hard not to give myself unrealistic goals. I really don't like to fail and then quit. I'd rather have moderate goals that are do-able.

Time management has been a real issue for me the last four of five months, so as I look toward my writing goals, I do so with an eye on a realistic schedule, as well.

Since plot is one of me weak spots, I've decided to plot some goals on plotting. I am working on a revision of my middle grade novel with the help of Paula Morrow, a very insightful writing coach, so I'm looking at this year like an intensive writing class. Since plot and story arc are the issues at hand, I'm going to incorporate my own course of study into the process.

I chose three books from my collection of writer's aids. I plan to work through them over the year. Okay, at least through the first half of the year. I will probably not read in any particular order, and probably not from front to back. Instead, I'd like to dive into elements I'm working on at any given moment. Here are my books on plot:

Plot by Ansen Dibell

Plot and Structure by James Scott Bell

20 Master Plots and How to Build Them by Ronald B. Tobias

Dibell says this in her introduction: You want to bring your unconscious craft under greater conscious control, so that you make choices, not just blunder through until something goes wrong, or right.

Isn't that great advice on craft? I'm taking it as good advice for time management, too. I hope to keep my schedule under conscious control, as much as is realistic, so that I make choices. Wise ones.

New Year's Day

2011-01-01T09:56:00.003-05:00

I know it's time to look ahead--and I have begun to think about goals for the new year--but I'm still sorting through Christmas memories. There were twenty-three of us, altogether, counting children, grandchildren, grandparents, and in-laws for a full week. Split between three houses. Mine, Cliff's mom's next door, and my mother's up the street. Every spare bed was taken. We had air mattresses on the floors, pull-out sofas pulled out, and pallets and porta-cribs filled with little ones. Here are some of my favorite memories.

1. Greeting each of my four precious children and their families as they arrived from Oregon, Minnesota, Texas, and Mississippi.

2. Rolling in the kitchen floor with my two three-year-old grandsons (cousins, not twins). One of them informed me that since the pudge in my belly wasn't a baby (like his mother's) then it was just fat.

3. Mochas with my two oldest grands (ages 9 and 6) at Starbucks. They sat in the big stuffed chairs while I sat at a table next to them. A sticker on the table instructed us to offer this table to handicapped customers. They concluded that there were no handicapped customers in the store at the moment, so it was fine for me to sit there, even though I wasn't handicapped, just old, like a grandma.

4. Walking to church for the Christmas Eve service, arm in arm with my two daughters.

5. Two great-grandpas swapping stories over a bottle of wine.

6. Reading from Luke 1 on Christmas morning. Zacharias is one of my favorite characters in the Christmas story, though he is peripheral. Struck dumb for not believing he was going to be a father, Zachariah nearly burst with praise at the birth of John. I have prayed parts of his prophetic song for my children for many years. That they might serve Him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before Him all their days. It's a good prayer.

7. A few quiet conversations in the midst of the chaos.

8. The silence when the door closed for the last time.

Ah, now I can look ahead.

Poetry Friday: Common Cold

2010-12-31T11:14:00.005-05:00

At my house, we're ringing out the old year with sniffles and sneezes, hacking coughs and chest-hardened wheezes. I'm in rhyming agreement with dear old Ogden.

I hope you'll stop over at Carol's Corner for more Poetry Friday where folks are ringing in the new year with something other than a tissue.

Common Cold

by Ogden Nash

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!

You shall not sneer at me.

Pick up your hat and stethoscope,

Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;

I contemplate a joy exquisite

I'm not paying you for your visit.

I did not call you to be told

My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;

By fever's hot and scaly grip;

By those two red redundant eyes

That weep like woeful April skies;

By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;

By handkerchief after handkerchief;

This cold you wave away as naught

Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!

Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;

The Cold of which researchers dream,

The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.

This honored system humbly holds

The Super-cold to end all colds;

The Cold Crusading for Democracy;

The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals

Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,

But bred by scientists wise and hoary

In some Olympic laboratory;

Bacteria as large as mice,

With feet of fire and heads of ice

Who never interrupt for slumber

Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!

Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;

Don Juan was a budding gallant,

And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;

The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,

And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.

Oh what a derision history holds

For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!

Poetry Friday: Christmas at Mole End

2010-12-17T05:10:00.000-05:00

I hope you are finding time to slow down, enjoy a cup of hot chocolate, and delight in this Christmas season.

My crew will be in town in a few days, so this may be my last post of the year. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year!

Here is a wonderful Christmas song from The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, sung by "a group of little field-mice" who "stood in a semi-circle, red worsted comforters round their throats, their forepaws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet dancing for warmth. "

Villagers all, this frosty tide,

Let your doors swing open wide,

Though wind may follow, and snow beside,

Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;

Joy shall be yours in the morning!

Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,

Blowing fingers and stamping feet,

Come from far away you to greet--

You by the fire and we in the street--

Bidding you joy in the morning!

For ere one half of the night was gone,

Sudden a star had led us on,

Raining bliss and benison--

Bliss tomorrow and more anon,

Joy for every morning!

Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow--

Saw the star o'er the stable low;

Mary she might not further go--

Welcome thatch, and litter below!

Joy was hers in the morning!

And when they heard the angels tell

"Who were the first to cry Nowell?

Animals all, as it befell,

In the stable where they did dwell!"

Joy shall be theirs in the morning!

More Poetry Friday here, at the Poetry Farm.

May joy be yours now and "in the morning."

Merry Christmas.

Random Thoughts

2010-12-13T14:28:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I sat on my glasses. Really sat on them, unknowing, the entire time I laced my tennis shoes. It certainly makes one see things differently. Not always a bad thing, except when you can't focus.

I never thought I'd grow up to be a traveling salesman. Okay, salesperson. No, saleswoman? Definitely sounds strange. In the last six weeks, I have logged almost 1,500 miles. I love my job. I love being in schools. I love the librarians and reading specialists I meet and get to know. I love the books and knowing what's being published. But that's a lot of miles. I'm tired right now, and so glad for the coming break and time to sort and rethink some scheduling issues. All that traveling leaves little time for writing. I've managed to squeeze some in, but I have some projects before me that are going to require some consistency. New Year's Resolutions are already in progress!

I love hats. I would have been a good hat-wearing lady in the fifties, or the forties.

I lost my gloves last week. Left them at one of my schools, I think. It's too cold to go outside, but if I were going, I'd wear those lost gloves.

Random, yes, I know. But you were forewarned.

Poetry Friday: Brrrr!!!

2010-12-10T07:08:00.004-05:00

It's cold here in the deep South. No snow. No ice. Just cold, the kind we don't usually see until late January. It makes me want to wrap up in a blanket in front of a fire with a cup of hot tea and a good book.

Yesterday, I did just that. I've been reading Buffalo Soldiers by Tom Willard. He does a great job of presenting the big picture of life in the Tenth Cavalry, while weaving the story of one black soldier from enlistment to retirement. A good winter read.

It's poetry Friday and I've been absent for a while. Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf, make a new resolution, or just get more organized in the coming new year. We'll see.

Here is a poem I wrote a few years back. The cold reminded me of it.

Still, She Cannot Write the Spring

It was a cold Christmas

That chilled the roots and left no promise

Against the hard consonants of November.

A songless sparrow picks lichen

From trees standing bare in the wind

And listens with her for a touch

Of sunlight, for words to melt the icy ground,

To bear the burden of a crocus

Rising through frozen earth.

Innisfree Poetry Journal, 2006

More Poetry Friday here with Jama.

Georgia, My State -- Native Americans

2010-11-28T20:02:00.011-05:00

From State Standards Publishing

Written to meet Georgia Performance Standards for 2nd grade

The set traces the development of the Creek and Cherokee tribes in Georgia.

AR levels 2.7 to 3.2 GRL levels J and K

Library Bound $16.95

Paperback $7.95

Poetry Friday: Madeleine L'Engle

2010-11-12T08:53:00.005-05:00

For Poetry Friday, here's a favorite from Madeleine L'Engle. May your words, your works, your life, be a song savoured by many.

Instruments (1)

by Madeleine L'Engle

The sky is strung with glory.

Light threads from star to star

from sun to sun

a living harp.

I rejoice, I sing, I leap upwards to play.

The music is in light.

My fingers pluck the vibrant strings;

the notes pulse, throb, in exultant harmony;

I beat my wings against the strands

that reach across the galaxies

I play

It is not I who play

it is the music

the music plays itself

is played

plays me

small part of an innumerable

unnumberable

orchestra.

I am flung from note to note

impaled on melody

my wings are caught on throbbing filaments of light

the wild cords cut my pinions

my arms are outstretched

are bound by ropes of counterpoint

I am cross-eagled on the singing that is strung

from pulsing star

to flaming sun

I burn in a blaze of song.

Rocks and Minerals of Georgia

2010-11-05T21:02:00.007-04:00

Books for use with state history and science standards are often hard to find. National publishers tend to focus on topics they can market nationally. State Standards Publishing is working to fill that niche in Georgia.

The newest set in the Georgia, My State series is Rocks and Minerals, written by Samantha Sanford. AR levels are pending, but Lexile levels range from 560-600, so they should come in at solid third grade reading levels.

Books are available in library bound and paperback.

Titles include:

Poetry Friday: Travels

2010-10-29T06:26:00.000-04:00

The last few weeks have been full of travels. Some for business. Some for pleasure. Last week I flew to Portland, Oregon for a sweet visit with my daughter. Portland is a colorful city, even when it's gray.

Here's a travel poem to celebrate Poetry Friday. Stop by The Writer's Armchair for more poetry.

Night Journey

Now as the train bears west,

Its rhythm rocks the earth,

And from my Pullman berth

I stare into the night

While others take their rest.

Bridges of iron lace,

A suddenness of trees,

A lap of mountain mist

All cross my line of sight,

Then a bleak wasted place,

And a lake below my knees.

Full on my neck I feel

The straining at a curve;

My muscles move with steel,

I wake in every nerve.

I watch a beacon swing

From dark to blazing bright;

We thunder through ravines

And gullies washed with light.

Beyond the mountain pass

Mist deepens on the pane;

We rush into a rain

That rattles double glass.

Wheels shake the roadbed stone,

The pistons jerk and shove,

I stay up half the night

To see the land I love.

Theodore Roethke

Poetry Friday

2010-10-22T07:08:00.000-04:00

Time for poetry. Here's one I wrote a few years back. It still needs some work, but a poem is never finished, as they say, just abandoned.

Tortoise or Hare

I would be the tortoise

If I could choose.

Tender parts

Carefully guarded

By a hard green shell.

A portable hiding place

For those awkward moments.

No need to run,

Just pull in the appendages

And breathe slowly

Until the danger passes.

But some pernicious muse

Had other plans

And without consulting me,

Took my secrets

And made iambic feet

For a bunch of mad rabbits

That care nothing for poetry.