Jo Knowles's Blog, page 9
March 25, 2013
Why are you keeping that thing?!?!
Yesterday at church, the visiting minister read the poem "The Back Chamber," by Donald Hall. I cannot find the poem online, but I urge you to find the collection at your local library or indie bookstore and read it.
It's a poem about saving things. Stuff. Even broken stuff. It's about why we do it. And I am telling you, it is beautiful.
I kept thinking about all the things I save, but more importantly it brought me to the things my parents saved, year upon year, move upon move. And what each of those objects means to me, and must surely mean to them.
Whenever we get the urge to purge and clean out our basement (an extremely rare occurrance, believe me) my husband always asks, why we're keeping this or that. Sometimes I know why, and sometimes I don't. If I don't, we usually put it out by the side of the road with a "FREE" sign on it and it'll be gone within an hour or two.
But there's one object we always arrive at that I never quite know how to justify. It's old, and rickety and even though I daydream of finding a use for it someday, we're going on ten years at this house and still it sits down there.
So when my husband asks "Why are we keeping this table?!?"
I don't have the best answer.
It's an old table. Rectangular. The top is exposed wood, the bottom is painted blue. There is a single drawer in the middle.
My parents gave it to me because it resembled the table in the kitchen where I grew up. Where I would sit and do my homework while my father made dinner. The table the cat slept on, no matter how many times we shooed her off. And the dog slept under, letting me use her back as a footrest or foot-warmer, depending on the season.
My look-alike table served as a desk in my bedroom. It was also slept on by various cats through the ages. It was a listener of stories. The collector of tears. The keeper of secrets.
When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, and then our first house, the little table became our own kitchen table. And like the original, it became a bed for naughty cats. A listener of stories. And a watcher of a small child as he grew. And grew.
But then we moved to a house with a small kitchen that had no room for a table. And so, we put it in the basement among other boxes and objects we can't seem to part with.
It waits in the basement. Holder of boxes and dust. The occasional sleeping cat. Waiting for my son to take it to his first kitchen. Where it will hear more stories. Allow more naughty cats to nap on it. And be part of the story that keeps on growing.
I suppose that's it. That's why we're keeping it. For someday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Fill in the blank, and answer the question:
"Why are you keeping that [ ]?!?!?!"
It's a poem about saving things. Stuff. Even broken stuff. It's about why we do it. And I am telling you, it is beautiful.
I kept thinking about all the things I save, but more importantly it brought me to the things my parents saved, year upon year, move upon move. And what each of those objects means to me, and must surely mean to them.
Whenever we get the urge to purge and clean out our basement (an extremely rare occurrance, believe me) my husband always asks, why we're keeping this or that. Sometimes I know why, and sometimes I don't. If I don't, we usually put it out by the side of the road with a "FREE" sign on it and it'll be gone within an hour or two.
But there's one object we always arrive at that I never quite know how to justify. It's old, and rickety and even though I daydream of finding a use for it someday, we're going on ten years at this house and still it sits down there.
So when my husband asks "Why are we keeping this table?!?"
I don't have the best answer.
It's an old table. Rectangular. The top is exposed wood, the bottom is painted blue. There is a single drawer in the middle.
My parents gave it to me because it resembled the table in the kitchen where I grew up. Where I would sit and do my homework while my father made dinner. The table the cat slept on, no matter how many times we shooed her off. And the dog slept under, letting me use her back as a footrest or foot-warmer, depending on the season.
My look-alike table served as a desk in my bedroom. It was also slept on by various cats through the ages. It was a listener of stories. The collector of tears. The keeper of secrets.
When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, and then our first house, the little table became our own kitchen table. And like the original, it became a bed for naughty cats. A listener of stories. And a watcher of a small child as he grew. And grew.
But then we moved to a house with a small kitchen that had no room for a table. And so, we put it in the basement among other boxes and objects we can't seem to part with.
It waits in the basement. Holder of boxes and dust. The occasional sleeping cat. Waiting for my son to take it to his first kitchen. Where it will hear more stories. Allow more naughty cats to nap on it. And be part of the story that keeps on growing.
I suppose that's it. That's why we're keeping it. For someday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Fill in the blank, and answer the question:
"Why are you keeping that [ ]?!?!?!"
March 20, 2013
What haunted me at 17 (for my sister) <3
Nova Ren Suma’s new novel, 17 & Gone, comes out this week on March 21, and to mark the release of this story about a 17-year-old girl haunted by the missing, she’s asked some authors she knows to join her in answering this question… What haunted YOU at 17? To see all the authors taking part, be sure to visit her blog distraction99.com. CONGRATULATIONS to Nova Ren Suma! We are all so excited to read your next book!!!!!!
So...
What haunted me at 17?
When I think of 17 year-old me and what haunted her, I shudder and close my eyes against the memories. There were so many things weighing on me that year. Instead, what I try to remember is how I managed to escape those things, even if only fleetingly. And that brings me to a forbidden beach and the treasured days of summer I shared with my sister before going off to college, knowing they would never come again.
17-year-old Jo, at a Grateful Dead concert with her sister. Photo taken by her sister.
I breathe in, and I smell a warm towel. I smell coconut-scented lotion and lake water and the expensive hairspray my sister and I shared. Watermelon. I feel the sun shining on my face as I sprawled out on a towel next to her at the far end of the beach.
We didn't belong there, but my grandmother let us use her pass and we'd go and pretend we were part of the wealthy class of teenage girls who would arrive there in their Mercedes convertibles to tan before spending the evening partying with their friends in big houses overlooking a part of the lake only certain people could afford to boat past.
We, on the other hand, were tanning up before going to our restaurant jobs where, most likely, my sister would wait on–and I would wash the dishes of–those same tan, privileged girls and their parents.
We tried to be as incognito as is possible when you are only wearing a bikini.
On the way to the beach, we'd stop and buy two cans of Welch's grape soda and a bag of Cape Cod potato chips with some of my sister's tip money from the night before. We drove a reddish-orange rusty old Volkswagon convertible bug that was in such bad shape the floor was rotting out and we could see the pavement rush underfoot as we drove the winding, narrow road to my grandmother's house, pine needles from the trees canopying the road dropping into the car.
At my grandparents', my sister would do most of the talking. I was shy, and felt as uncomfortable there as I did when the beach-goers looked at us suspiciously, knowing we didn't belong.
When we arrived at the beach, we'd pass a length of tennis courts where retired couples would lob the ball back and forth on the red clay top.
Pock. Pock. Huff. Pock.
We'd pause to watch sometimes, and I would think of my own failed attempts to learn tennis and my hopefully forgettable stint on the school tennis team my senior year.
We chose our usual spot of beach and faced our towels to the sun. We'd slick ourselves with baby oil and take turns rubbing it on each other's backs as island families arrived and spread out their things. We'd watch their children begin the seemingly endless and certainly pointless task of digging holes and filling them with water. And eavesdrop on island gossip, even though it was never very interesting.
When we got hot, we'd swim out to the raft and jump off the unoccupied lifeguard stand, which we treated like a high dive. We dared each other to do back dives and laughed when our bikini bottoms slipped as we entered the water.
Back on shore, we'd let the sun dry us off as we lay on our stomachs, propped up on our elbows to read heavy paperback books we'd later trade. Stephen King. John Irving. Maybe, I admit, Danielle Steele.
We were sisters, and, that summer, as close to best friends as we'd ever been.
My sister was three years older than me and had been off at college for two years, returning home to work summers. Now, I'd be going to college too. And I think of all the things haunting me that summer, the most profound was the heavy knowledge that this could be our last summer together, in this capacity–as sisters, friends and coworkers–before we "grew up" and away from each other.
But during those sun-drenched days, we did our best not to let the things that haunted us onto that glorious beach. They were there though, in our chests. We shared unspoken matching ghost-worries about how we'd pay for tuition that year, or what our troubled older brother was up to, and if he was safe. We worried about our parents and their finances and how they would get on once I left, and there were no more kids in the house.
And there were other worries and regrets of our own, that we were each learning how to bury. Me, without much success.
To escape the haunts, we gossiped about high school friends who were already becoming yearbook memories. We giggled about co-workers and who liked whom. We tried to keep things light on that beach we didn't belong on. Maybe because we were already pretending we were who we weren't, it was easier to make believe that there, on that pristine beach, we were as worry-free as we assumed everyone else was.
We tried to just be. There. In the sun. With our books and our grape soda and potato chips. Haunted only by the invisible cloud hanging over us. The Knowing, that our lives were about to change. That life was going to get harder.
We would never be the we we were on that beach ever again.
We were haunted by the promise of hard times to come. By the inevitable. But for those few short glorious hours we let the sun shine on our bronzed faces, on our shiny skin, and keep the dark haunts we secreted from each other–and even ourselves–in the shadows.
There on that beach, we were sisters. We were friends. And we were happy.
Jo and her sister in Maine. Year unknown.
March 18, 2013
What haunted you at 17?
To help promote her new book, Nova Ren Suma asked some author friends to answer this question: What haunted you at 17? We'll be posting our responses this week with links to Nova's blog and how to purchase her new book: 17 AND GONE. You can get all the links HERE throughout the week. I can't wait to read the responses! (I'll be posting mine here on March 20.)
I really struggled with my own, as most of the things that haunted me at that age were NOT things I wanted to share publicly. But the exercise was powerful. It made me remember 17-me in a way I hadn't before. From the distance and safety of 42-me, who survived. I was finally able to look back at a time I largely wanted to forget with more sympathy and understanding and kindness. A different perspective. A bigger heart. It was unexpectedly healing. I think you should try it. <3
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
What haunted you at 17?
:-)
I really struggled with my own, as most of the things that haunted me at that age were NOT things I wanted to share publicly. But the exercise was powerful. It made me remember 17-me in a way I hadn't before. From the distance and safety of 42-me, who survived. I was finally able to look back at a time I largely wanted to forget with more sympathy and understanding and kindness. A different perspective. A bigger heart. It was unexpectedly healing. I think you should try it. <3
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
What haunted you at 17?
:-)
March 11, 2013
What is your one thing?
Mondays are always a bit challenging but this morning was particularly so. My son volunteered to arrive at his school an hour early to help unload some equipment for their circus interim. With the time change, it felt like the alarm was going off in the middle of the night. But somehow we managed to get there on time and I know he'll be glad he helped out.
I find myself saying stuff like that a lot lately: I know I'll be glad I did it.
And I'm always right.
I don't know why this is a lesson I need to learn repeatedly but... I guess I do.
And not only am I glad, but I just _feel_ so much better. I feel good!
So I want to encourage you, dear readers, to commit to doing something, too.
Two things that made me feel GREAT that I admit I was dreading a bit because for the first one, I am lazy and for the second, I am shy:
1. Got back out running after missing a few weeks.
My muscles are sore but I feel so glad that I finally got going again. And I made plans to run with some friends today. We've all committed to the Couch to 5K program again, and once I'm back at 5 I'm going to start training for 10. My goals is to run 6 miles on my birthday in September.
2. Volunteered at the Special Olympics with my son.
I was nervous because I was responsible for watching a lot of gates and making sure the athletes skied them properly and I didn't know anyone other than my son. But we had a BLAST and met lots of really cool and caring people, and not one of our athletes disqualified! That was a great feeling.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
What can you do this week that will make you feel good about yourself? Writing goals are always good, but what can you do in addition to giving yourself some extra time to write? Read a half-hour instead of watching TV or falling into the Twitter/Facebook loop? Go for a long walk? Call a friend or relative you've been avoiding just to say hi? Clean your closet? Read a book to your "too old" kid? Up your exercise routine? Start one?
Choose something that you _know_ will make you feel good. Don't choose something too overwhelming, just something you've been putting off. Share, if you'd like. And then come back and tell me after you do it, and tell me how you feel. :-)
You can do it!!!
I find myself saying stuff like that a lot lately: I know I'll be glad I did it.
And I'm always right.
I don't know why this is a lesson I need to learn repeatedly but... I guess I do.
And not only am I glad, but I just _feel_ so much better. I feel good!
So I want to encourage you, dear readers, to commit to doing something, too.
Two things that made me feel GREAT that I admit I was dreading a bit because for the first one, I am lazy and for the second, I am shy:
1. Got back out running after missing a few weeks.
My muscles are sore but I feel so glad that I finally got going again. And I made plans to run with some friends today. We've all committed to the Couch to 5K program again, and once I'm back at 5 I'm going to start training for 10. My goals is to run 6 miles on my birthday in September.
2. Volunteered at the Special Olympics with my son.
I was nervous because I was responsible for watching a lot of gates and making sure the athletes skied them properly and I didn't know anyone other than my son. But we had a BLAST and met lots of really cool and caring people, and not one of our athletes disqualified! That was a great feeling.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
What can you do this week that will make you feel good about yourself? Writing goals are always good, but what can you do in addition to giving yourself some extra time to write? Read a half-hour instead of watching TV or falling into the Twitter/Facebook loop? Go for a long walk? Call a friend or relative you've been avoiding just to say hi? Clean your closet? Read a book to your "too old" kid? Up your exercise routine? Start one?
Choose something that you _know_ will make you feel good. Don't choose something too overwhelming, just something you've been putting off. Share, if you'd like. And then come back and tell me after you do it, and tell me how you feel. :-)
You can do it!!!
March 4, 2013
Tools of the trade
Today I am facing a big revision. I spoke with my editor on the phone on Friday to go over her notes, took the weekend to mull, fret, freak out and calm down, and now I need get to work.
One of the things writers ask me over and over again is "How do you revise?" It's a tough question because my approach has been a bit different with every book. For this book, I have a lot of incredibly helpful notes from friends/critique partners and my editor. These range from general feedback...
...to chapter to chapter feedback...
...to feedback on individual characters.
(In addition, I have electronic notes from another critique partner which I'll have open on my screen.)
It's a lot to take in, process and organize. This book has ten points of view and takes place in one day, with all of the characters' stories overlapping. Timing, pacing and point of view are a bit complicated (I have just made an understatement).
This is when my storyboard comes in handy. It helps me stay grounded and remember the core importance/significance of each chapter (probably not abundantly clear to you from the image below, but it is to me).
I can look at each square after I read the comments and then take additional notes on what I need to address. I'm going to print out a clean copy of each chapter and mark up the changes, as there are a lot of notes I need to keep track of as well. Some chapters need to be completely rewritten so in those cases, I'll just start a new blank file (I just whimpered).
I also have a more basic chart (listing character and chapter title) that helps me see at a quick glance how the characters are connected, and which side characters appear in each chapter. In this revision, I need to make more connections, so this will help me keep track of that as well.
As I go, I plan to create a new page like this for each chapter/character.
[[Edited to add: Here is what my first character/chapter notes look like (I've incorporated everyone's comments, as well as my own concerns, as well as just the basic notes on who appears in the chapter):
Notice the WOW Section: "Want" (what does your character want) "Obstacle" (what is keeping your character from gettng what he/she wants) "Way" (how is your character going to get the want). I think I learned this from Cindy Lord. Cindy, please correct me if I'm wrong. You should know these three things for your character for every scene/chapter and for the total book arc as well. Again, defining the WOW helps anchor me to the cause and stay focused.]]
Sometimes, I wonder what I was thinking when I started this project. Did I try to do too much? Is it just a big mess? I have been working on this book in bits and pieces since I got the idea ten years ago.
I don't want to give up.
I hate giving up.
So, I have made some comfort tea, with milk and honey.
And dug up an old promise from a friend.
There's only one way to make this project come together and be that thing I want it to be.
I have to do the work. Starting... now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Share one of your tools of the trade! :-)
One of the things writers ask me over and over again is "How do you revise?" It's a tough question because my approach has been a bit different with every book. For this book, I have a lot of incredibly helpful notes from friends/critique partners and my editor. These range from general feedback...
...to chapter to chapter feedback...
...to feedback on individual characters.
(In addition, I have electronic notes from another critique partner which I'll have open on my screen.)
It's a lot to take in, process and organize. This book has ten points of view and takes place in one day, with all of the characters' stories overlapping. Timing, pacing and point of view are a bit complicated (I have just made an understatement).
This is when my storyboard comes in handy. It helps me stay grounded and remember the core importance/significance of each chapter (probably not abundantly clear to you from the image below, but it is to me).
I can look at each square after I read the comments and then take additional notes on what I need to address. I'm going to print out a clean copy of each chapter and mark up the changes, as there are a lot of notes I need to keep track of as well. Some chapters need to be completely rewritten so in those cases, I'll just start a new blank file (I just whimpered).
I also have a more basic chart (listing character and chapter title) that helps me see at a quick glance how the characters are connected, and which side characters appear in each chapter. In this revision, I need to make more connections, so this will help me keep track of that as well.
As I go, I plan to create a new page like this for each chapter/character.
[[Edited to add: Here is what my first character/chapter notes look like (I've incorporated everyone's comments, as well as my own concerns, as well as just the basic notes on who appears in the chapter):
Notice the WOW Section: "Want" (what does your character want) "Obstacle" (what is keeping your character from gettng what he/she wants) "Way" (how is your character going to get the want). I think I learned this from Cindy Lord. Cindy, please correct me if I'm wrong. You should know these three things for your character for every scene/chapter and for the total book arc as well. Again, defining the WOW helps anchor me to the cause and stay focused.]]
Sometimes, I wonder what I was thinking when I started this project. Did I try to do too much? Is it just a big mess? I have been working on this book in bits and pieces since I got the idea ten years ago.
I don't want to give up.
I hate giving up.
So, I have made some comfort tea, with milk and honey.
And dug up an old promise from a friend.
There's only one way to make this project come together and be that thing I want it to be.
I have to do the work. Starting... now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Share one of your tools of the trade! :-)
February 18, 2013
I will remember you...
Well today I've been a bit stressed and overwhelmed. It is also Monday, and I am supposed to blog here and give you a writing prompt.
Dear reader, I have a confession to make:
I almost blew you off.
I am sorry. But it's been one of those mornings when I try to think creatively and the phrase, "I got nuthin" is all that comes to mind.
So I was doing what one does when one's got nuthin. I was wasting time on #$!@ing Facebook. And I came to a link provided by the brilliant writer and teacher, Leda Schubert. It's called "The Keeny-Mo" And it is both a beautiful tribute to her father and an inspirational lesson in character development. I ask you to go read it now.
Wasn't that just perfect?
And now you have your...
~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Choose a person you miss and make a list of all the special Keeny-Mo-type memories you have of him or her. This could turn into a list poem, or even an outline for a story about the person. Have fun! And thank you, Leda, for the much-needed inspiration!
Dear reader, I have a confession to make:
I almost blew you off.
I am sorry. But it's been one of those mornings when I try to think creatively and the phrase, "I got nuthin" is all that comes to mind.
So I was doing what one does when one's got nuthin. I was wasting time on #$!@ing Facebook. And I came to a link provided by the brilliant writer and teacher, Leda Schubert. It's called "The Keeny-Mo" And it is both a beautiful tribute to her father and an inspirational lesson in character development. I ask you to go read it now.
Wasn't that just perfect?
And now you have your...
~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Choose a person you miss and make a list of all the special Keeny-Mo-type memories you have of him or her. This could turn into a list poem, or even an outline for a story about the person. Have fun! And thank you, Leda, for the much-needed inspiration!
February 12, 2013
Happy Birthday, Herman!
WHO DONE IT? Is out today!
There's a party.
There's a murder.
There are way too many sketchy alibis.
In an "Investigation of murder most foul" children's and YA authors will try to convince you, dear reader, of their innocence. Just because they write for kids doesn't make them angels!
My own alibi involves stolen cow hooves, stinky cheese, and an unfortunate train ride to NYC.
Order your copy today to benefit 826nyc: "a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write."
There's a party.
There's a murder.
There are way too many sketchy alibis.
In an "Investigation of murder most foul" children's and YA authors will try to convince you, dear reader, of their innocence. Just because they write for kids doesn't make them angels!
My own alibi involves stolen cow hooves, stinky cheese, and an unfortunate train ride to NYC.
Order your copy today to benefit 826nyc: "a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write."
February 11, 2013
Hello, Deer
This morning my carpool duties took me up Town Farm Hill Road and then over to Weed Road and then back to Town Farm Hill. These are narrow dirt roads near my home. Fun to run on during the summer, challenging at best in winter. But they are always beautiful.
If you live in Vermont, and most especially if you live in Hartland, Vermont, I would recommend getting up just before sunrise and driving over Town Farm Hill Road, facing the rising sun. It will change your life. No really. OK, well maybe it will at least change your perspective for the day. Seeing the beauty of the earth will make you feel small, perhaps, but at the same time, the great privilege of seeing it will make you feel like one of the luckiest people on earth, if only fleetingly. It's a gift.
Now that the sun rises before carpool time, I don't get to see the purple sky changing to pink and orange on our drive over the hill. I miss it.
But today, as we were navigating the snowy drive, two deer stepped in our path. I slowed to a stop and waited for them to cross, but they only stared at us. Hesitant. Still.
I rolled down my window. I don't know why I do this whenever I see wildlife near the road, but I do. I think in some crazy way, I expect us to have a conversation. I would warn them to go back to the woods and they would tell me how lovely the weather is.
Instead, they sniffed the air and watched, and we watched, too. They blinked. And we blinked. The quiet surrounded us as we studied each other. Branches cracked in the woods beyond, and birds tweeted overhead. But we stayed quiet, waiting for each others' next move.
You're looking-well fed for February. I'm glad to see it.
We ate bark for breakfast. We sure miss apple season.
Are you going to cross the road?
We aren't sure. No. I think we'll stay on this side. Bye.
Bye.
And off they went, into the snowy woods, silent, silent silent.
I rolled up my window and off we went, too, in my tiny red car.
As we drove along, slipping here and there, three cars came up behind me. Was I driving too slow? Maybe. They seemed in a great hurry to get somewhere. Maybe they were late for work. Maybe if they'd gotten up earlier, they would have seen the sunrise. But instead, they were pushing the limits of getting too close on the slippery, snowy road, trying to hurry me along.
I wanted to stop and have a conversation with them, too.
Hey! Don't you know how lucky you are, to be barreling along on this gorgeous, peaceful road? Don't you know what a privilege it is? Couldn't you slow down just a little bit? You'll be amazed by what you've been missing.
But then I imagined them saying
!&%^$#!
So I kept driving along at my own pace instead.
Sometimes it's best to limit conversation to the deer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Have a conversation with wildlife. What would you say to the bird or squirrel outside your window?
If you live in Vermont, and most especially if you live in Hartland, Vermont, I would recommend getting up just before sunrise and driving over Town Farm Hill Road, facing the rising sun. It will change your life. No really. OK, well maybe it will at least change your perspective for the day. Seeing the beauty of the earth will make you feel small, perhaps, but at the same time, the great privilege of seeing it will make you feel like one of the luckiest people on earth, if only fleetingly. It's a gift.
Now that the sun rises before carpool time, I don't get to see the purple sky changing to pink and orange on our drive over the hill. I miss it.
But today, as we were navigating the snowy drive, two deer stepped in our path. I slowed to a stop and waited for them to cross, but they only stared at us. Hesitant. Still.
I rolled down my window. I don't know why I do this whenever I see wildlife near the road, but I do. I think in some crazy way, I expect us to have a conversation. I would warn them to go back to the woods and they would tell me how lovely the weather is.
Instead, they sniffed the air and watched, and we watched, too. They blinked. And we blinked. The quiet surrounded us as we studied each other. Branches cracked in the woods beyond, and birds tweeted overhead. But we stayed quiet, waiting for each others' next move.
You're looking-well fed for February. I'm glad to see it.
We ate bark for breakfast. We sure miss apple season.
Are you going to cross the road?
We aren't sure. No. I think we'll stay on this side. Bye.
Bye.
And off they went, into the snowy woods, silent, silent silent.
I rolled up my window and off we went, too, in my tiny red car.
As we drove along, slipping here and there, three cars came up behind me. Was I driving too slow? Maybe. They seemed in a great hurry to get somewhere. Maybe they were late for work. Maybe if they'd gotten up earlier, they would have seen the sunrise. But instead, they were pushing the limits of getting too close on the slippery, snowy road, trying to hurry me along.
I wanted to stop and have a conversation with them, too.
Hey! Don't you know how lucky you are, to be barreling along on this gorgeous, peaceful road? Don't you know what a privilege it is? Couldn't you slow down just a little bit? You'll be amazed by what you've been missing.
But then I imagined them saying
!&%^$#!
So I kept driving along at my own pace instead.
Sometimes it's best to limit conversation to the deer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Have a conversation with wildlife. What would you say to the bird or squirrel outside your window?
February 6, 2013
A BIG first :-)
Goal #11: Continue to improve at public speaking
I kept this goal for 2013 because it is an ongoing challenge for me. I am self-conscious. I am shy. I love people and I love talking about books, but I get nervous and tongue-tied. It's not fun when this happens. And I spend a lot of time beating myself up about it after.
A few weeks ago, I posted about my theme for 2013, which focuses on living your life.
Shortly after that post, I received a message from the editor of Author Magazine, asking if I was interested in doing a live interview on the Author2Author site.
I was flattered! I was excited! And I was also terrified. Live???? Oh my. No no no no no. This I cannot do.
I waited to reply. Then I postponed. But then I asked myself, "What's the worst that could happen?"
And so I said yes. And spent the next several days trying not to think about it.
Yesterday, before the interview, I kept having these moments of panic. What if I stumble? What if I don't know how to answer a question? What if.... Wait. What if WHAT??? This is what I'm talking about. I worry a lot--A LOT--about stuff I don't even know why I'm worried over. It's kind of insane, I know.
When it was time to call in, I took a deep breath and went up to my office and shut the door. Immediately, Fred my cat started crying on the other side. I let him in. He then continued to wail and play with papers and make Fred-noises. I was juggling the phone and petting Fred so he'd shut up! I did this through most of the interview. And even though at the time that cat was driving me nuts, I think he helped me stay calm and focused. Thanks Freddy.
Well anyway, this all to say that I survived. And I actually had fun! Anne Marie Pace told me the host would do his best to make it easy and she was right.
Sometimes, it is hard to be brave. It's easier to say, "No, I can't do that." But I know the regrets that come with that. The lingering "what if's" that follow. The beating yourself up because you didn't accept a generous invitation simply because you were too scared. So I want to tell you, if I can do it, I know you can too.
Bill and I talked about social networking, plotting vs. plunging, writing what you love, getting through the murky middle, my writing partners, what it means to write our "emotional" truths, and so much more. If you'd like to listen,
CLICK HERE! :-)
I kept this goal for 2013 because it is an ongoing challenge for me. I am self-conscious. I am shy. I love people and I love talking about books, but I get nervous and tongue-tied. It's not fun when this happens. And I spend a lot of time beating myself up about it after.
A few weeks ago, I posted about my theme for 2013, which focuses on living your life.
Shortly after that post, I received a message from the editor of Author Magazine, asking if I was interested in doing a live interview on the Author2Author site.
I was flattered! I was excited! And I was also terrified. Live???? Oh my. No no no no no. This I cannot do.
I waited to reply. Then I postponed. But then I asked myself, "What's the worst that could happen?"
And so I said yes. And spent the next several days trying not to think about it.
Yesterday, before the interview, I kept having these moments of panic. What if I stumble? What if I don't know how to answer a question? What if.... Wait. What if WHAT??? This is what I'm talking about. I worry a lot--A LOT--about stuff I don't even know why I'm worried over. It's kind of insane, I know.
When it was time to call in, I took a deep breath and went up to my office and shut the door. Immediately, Fred my cat started crying on the other side. I let him in. He then continued to wail and play with papers and make Fred-noises. I was juggling the phone and petting Fred so he'd shut up! I did this through most of the interview. And even though at the time that cat was driving me nuts, I think he helped me stay calm and focused. Thanks Freddy.
Well anyway, this all to say that I survived. And I actually had fun! Anne Marie Pace told me the host would do his best to make it easy and she was right.
Sometimes, it is hard to be brave. It's easier to say, "No, I can't do that." But I know the regrets that come with that. The lingering "what if's" that follow. The beating yourself up because you didn't accept a generous invitation simply because you were too scared. So I want to tell you, if I can do it, I know you can too.
Bill and I talked about social networking, plotting vs. plunging, writing what you love, getting through the murky middle, my writing partners, what it means to write our "emotional" truths, and so much more. If you'd like to listen,
CLICK HERE! :-)
January 28, 2013
It starts with a circle
It starts with a circle
We share a church pew
You bounce on your mother's lap
And wiggle and squirm with boredom
There is a small box of crayons between us
And a tiny pad of paper
Waiting to be filled
It starts with a circle
I hand it to you
And say, "Draw something"
And you turn the circle into a peace sign
And I add a green border
And you say, "It's a tree!"
So I add a trunk
And you add a giant bird
And I make leaves
And you draw a dog
And I make another bird
And you make your bird KING
And I make a flying pig
And you make an egg
And I add a rainbow
And you add a pterodactyl
And I add a fox
And you say, "The bird pooped!"
And I say, "Here is a nest,"
And we keep on like that
Filling the page
With colors
And life
Until it's time for you
to go
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Find a friend to draw with. It can be a child, a student, a partner, a friend, any age will do. Get a piece of paper and draw a shape. Hand the paper over and let the other person make something out of it. Now you make something, now the other person, etc. and on and on until you fill the page. Now each of you choose one image and use it as a story starter. Have FUN. :)
