Sharon Creech's Blog, page 9

Refilling the Well: or Why I'm Not Getting Any Writing Done

I give up.
The next/new storyis just not going to get written
until
it turns uglyoutside.
xx

Sudden Beauty

You're carrying a load of laundrydown the hallyou round the corner and there!whoah!on the windowsill:

You stopyou freezeyou are struck dumb

It's too muchthis sudden beautyon laundry day
*
Sometimes I think I should never write another wordbecause words palein comparisonto so much else.
xx

About those tomatoes . . .

Oops.
In the last blog posta photo of tomatoes on the vineprompted the recall ofa long-ago poem.
I thought the first two lines were:
clothes on the linetomatoes on the vine
BUT!Today I remembered the correct version:
flowers on the vinebermudas on the line
summer came and summer went and 
no one fed the swine.
++
Ho! 


Flowers!
Bermudas!

No tomatoes!
Brains are amazing storehouses . . .
xx

Tomatoes on the vine . . .

Yesterday I brought in theseunripened tomatoesto save them from frost
but seeing them todayjolted me back to a poemI wrote and published(in a small journal)over thirty years ago
I'm still looking for a copy of the poembut here are the linesI can remember so far:
clothes on the linetomatoes on the vinesummer came and summer wentand no one fed the swine . . .
Well!I didn't say it was a good poem.
xx

The Boy on the Porch: Beginning

Usually I begin writing a story when a clear and insistent image appears in my mind of a character and a place. That initial image often becomes the opening image of the book, as it does here:


I'm curious about that boy and the people who find him, and so I write the story to learn more.

I hope that readers will be curious, too, and will read the story to learn more. . . and will like what they read.

xx

Water and Rock

The only noiseis water against rock

water against rock
water against rock
xx
(Acadia National Park, Mt. Desert Island, Maine)

The Original Cubism

Wicked storms blew throughtrees downpower out for twelve hours
One result, from the fridge: 

My husband calls it
'the original Cubism'
xx

Communing with Ocean, part two

You are lured in bythe tree-framed view



to stand on the rocksand breathe

to kneel by water's edgeand admire.
It is good to disappearinto such grandeur
xx

Communing with Ocean

The pull of the ocean is so strong
sun  sand  water

rocks  seaweed  shells

bliss
xx

Sheep Talk

There was somesheep talkgoing onat the fairin Union, Maine:


I was eavesdropping.
xx