Kate DiCamillo's Blog, page 11
August 19, 2014
For quite a long time, I had in my possession, a card with three quarters taped...
For quite a long time, I had in my possession, a card with three quarters taped on it.
Underneath the quarters, written in a shaky, sincere hand, were these words:
���We are sorry for your bad time at the Giant Wash.���
The Giant Wash was a laundromat; and one Saturday afternoon, long, long ago, a dryer at the Giant Wash ate three of my quarters.
I filled out a complaint form and a week later, the apology and the quarters arrived in the mail.
For a long time, I kept the card on my desk.
Whe...
Underneath the quarters, written in a shaky, sincere hand, were these words:
���We are sorry for your bad time at the Giant Wash.���
The Giant Wash was a laundromat; and one Saturday afternoon, long, long ago, a dryer at the Giant Wash ate three of my quarters.
I filled out a complaint form and a week later, the apology and the quarters arrived in the mail.
For a long time, I kept the card on my desk.
Whe...
August 14, 2014
Look at this: a tiny little patch of prairie in the city.
When I stand in front...
Look at this: a tiny little patch of prairie in the city.
When I stand in front of it, I squint so that all the flowers become one golden rectangle of light.
It fills me up.
I look at it and I can feel the world humming.
When I stand in front of it, I squint so that all the flowers become one golden rectangle of light.
It fills me up.
I look at it and I can feel the world humming.
August 12, 2014
Today, I got this letter in the mail.
“Dear Kate DiCamillo, Make more books ple...
Today, I got this letter in the mail.
“Dear Kate DiCamillo, Make more books please.”
That’s it.
That’s the whole letter.
Isn’t it grand?
I’ve been smiling ever since I read it.
“Dear Kate DiCamillo, Make more books please.”
That’s it.
That’s the whole letter.
Isn’t it grand?
I’ve been smiling ever since I read it.
August 7, 2014
I sat down to write some words about August, and how and why I love the month so...
I sat down to write some words about August, and how and why I love the month so much, and then I realized that I could never say it better then Natalie Babbit does in Tuck Everlasting.
So, here is August.
“The first week of August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel, when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the...
So, here is August.
“The first week of August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel, when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the...
August 5, 2014
I knew that it was just a matter of time before a squirrel figured out how to ge...
I knew that it was just a matter of time before a squirrel figured out how to get to the bird feeder.
What I did not count on was how I delighted I would be when he did.
Bless the squirrelly underdogs of this world!
Bless all of us who keep trying and trying and who do not give up.
Onward! Birdseed awaits!
What I did not count on was how I delighted I would be when he did.
Bless the squirrelly underdogs of this world!
Bless all of us who keep trying and trying and who do not give up.
Onward! Birdseed awaits!
July 31, 2014
I have a notebook that I carry with me.
I use it to write down overheard convers...
I have a notebook that I carry with me.
I use it to write down overheard conversations, random thoughts, to-do lists, cogitations, ruminations and—most importantly—words.
Words that I hear.
Words that I see.
Words that I think might become stories.
Here are some words from last week:
Hallowed
Memphis
Umbrella
Gold medal
Mole
Stairway
Blossom
Pliers
I don’t know what the words will become.
But I like listing, dreaming.
I like carrying words with me wherever I go.
I use it to write down overheard conversations, random thoughts, to-do lists, cogitations, ruminations and—most importantly—words.
Words that I hear.
Words that I see.
Words that I think might become stories.
Here are some words from last week:
Hallowed
Memphis
Umbrella
Gold medal
Mole
Stairway
Blossom
Pliers
I don’t know what the words will become.
But I like listing, dreaming.
I like carrying words with me wherever I go.
July 29, 2014
My brother visited me last week.
We went together to the Mill City Museum and st...
My brother visited me last week.
We went together to the Mill City Museum and stood up on top of the ruins and looked out over the river.
My brother is 53 now, and I am 50.
We were both born in Philadelphia and raised in Central Florida.
He lives in Boston.
I live in Minneapolis.
Both of us are afraid of heights.
But still--we stood together up there and leaned on the railing and looked out over the world and we were happy.
Here is a picture of what we saw.
We went together to the Mill City Museum and stood up on top of the ruins and looked out over the river.
My brother is 53 now, and I am 50.
We were both born in Philadelphia and raised in Central Florida.
He lives in Boston.
I live in Minneapolis.
Both of us are afraid of heights.
But still--we stood together up there and leaned on the railing and looked out over the world and we were happy.
Here is a picture of what we saw.
July 24, 2014
I’ve been spending time each morning with a book entitled Daily Rituals, How Art...
I’ve been spending time each morning with a book entitled Daily Rituals, How Artists Work by Mason Curry.
Today, I found these words from Georgia O’Keefe: “The painting is like a thread that runs through all the reasons for all the other things that make one’s life.”
That is the way a story feels to me.
Like a thread.
It pulls tight all the parts of my life.
It connects me to the world.
And although it is thin, it is also impossibly strong.
I follow it.
I hold on to it.
I can feel it thrummin...
Today, I found these words from Georgia O’Keefe: “The painting is like a thread that runs through all the reasons for all the other things that make one’s life.”
That is the way a story feels to me.
Like a thread.
It pulls tight all the parts of my life.
It connects me to the world.
And although it is thin, it is also impossibly strong.
I follow it.
I hold on to it.
I can feel it thrummin...
July 22, 2014
Things I saw (and heard) on an early morning walk:
A squirrel who had found a pa...
Things I saw (and heard) on an early morning walk:
A squirrel who had found a part of a peanut butter sandwich and was out of his mind with joy.
Monarchs, hollyhocks, lilies, Russian sage.
An old woman walking a big black dog.
“Hold up, Alfred,” the woman said to the dog. “I can’t go that fast anymore.”
The black dog sat down and waited for her.
Morning glories.
Words chalked on the sidewalk: The End.
Bumblebees. Lots of them.
More monarchs.
A little girl standing in line at the donut shop,...
A squirrel who had found a part of a peanut butter sandwich and was out of his mind with joy.
Monarchs, hollyhocks, lilies, Russian sage.
An old woman walking a big black dog.
“Hold up, Alfred,” the woman said to the dog. “I can’t go that fast anymore.”
The black dog sat down and waited for her.
Morning glories.
Words chalked on the sidewalk: The End.
Bumblebees. Lots of them.
More monarchs.
A little girl standing in line at the donut shop,...
July 17, 2014
One more raspberry story:
This is Bella.
She belongs to my friend Jane.
Bella...
One more raspberry story:
This is Bella.
She belongs to my friend Jane.
Bella lives for raspberry season.
She goes out into the backyard and blissfully consumes all the low-hanging raspberries directly from the bush.
Every time I look at this picture of Bella, I think of the story that Pema Chodron tells about the woman being chased by tigers.
So: the woman is running and the tigers are chasing her.
The woman comes to a cliff.
She climbs down the cliff.
She is holding on to a branch.
She...
This is Bella.
She belongs to my friend Jane.
Bella lives for raspberry season.
She goes out into the backyard and blissfully consumes all the low-hanging raspberries directly from the bush.
Every time I look at this picture of Bella, I think of the story that Pema Chodron tells about the woman being chased by tigers.
So: the woman is running and the tigers are chasing her.
The woman comes to a cliff.
She climbs down the cliff.
She is holding on to a branch.
She...
