Maureen Bush's Blog, page 20

The Living Center of the Universe

From William Steig’s (reluctant) speech of acceptance of the Caldecott medal for his children’s book, Sylvester and the Magic Pebble:

“Art, including juvenile literature, has the power to make any spot on earth the living center of the universe, and unlike science, which often gives us the illusion of understanding things we really do not understand, it helps us to know life in a way that still keeps before us the mystery of things.”

I think, sometimes, that this is exactly how children read, and experience stories. Brilliant stories become the centre of the universe, for the time we spend in the story, and keep before us the mystery of things.

Maureen

Sand to Snow

Sunday I flew home from balmy San Diego (see palm fronds in sunlight, below), to ice and snow in Calgary. It was exquistely beautiful, the entire city painted white in deep frost.

We don’t get much frost here, but it seems to be what comes with the cold weather this year. Cloud and frost, instead of clear skies and aching cold. I miss the sun on the those days, but I love the beauty of the frost.

There’s something miraculous about this switch in environment, a little bit of magic, that I can carry two such beautiful places in me, at the same time.

Maureen

From San Diego

Writing has come in fit and starts, mostly in the morning before sessions begin, with a pause for a sick day.

It hasn’t felt brilliant and yet I’ve accomplished what I’d hoped for, with some extras tucked in on the side, and more time to keep writing. And when I reread what I’ve done, I actually like it.

Having a deeply quiet mind is odd for writing. I don’t have ideas bouncing around in my head, clamouring to get out (except for the day I sat behind a woman with amazing braided hair). But when I do sit down and start to write, ideas and words flow.

I wish I could work this way every day, which means, I suppose, that I need to settle into a more solid meditation practice when I’m at home.

It just keeps getting harder to justify not doing that!

Maureen

 

Boots in Winter

I watched three people launch kayaks early yesterday morning, and one said, as she stepped into the water, “If we’re going to do this in winter, we’re going to need booties.” To me, that defines the difference between Calgary and San Diego.

I left a land cursed by the snow queen, the ground covered in a blanket of snow, and every tree encased in a thick layer of frost. Here, they need booties to kayak in winter.

I comfort myself with, “At least we’ll have a white Christmas.”

Maureen

 

 

San Diego

On Friday, I’m off to San Diego for a meditation retreat. I’m also bringing my laptop, loaded with my current project and all the other projects I’d like to work on. This is a grand experiment for me: can I add a writing retreat to a meditation retreat, and be satisfied with both?

Maureen

NaNoWrMo

I’ve been thinking about NaNoWrMo, November Novel Writing Month, in which participants strive to write a 50,000 novel in the month of November. It seems absurd to me, as I take about a year to write much shorter children’s novels. But I’ve been told it’s just a first draft, and for some people, it’s a really good way to motivate themselves to whack out a lot of words.

It still doesn’t interest me, but when I heard about the equivalent for picture books, an idea a day through November, I thought ‘Hmmm, I could do that.’ And I have been. I have a long list of ideas in a notebook. Some are too small to stand on their own, and a few are developing into something I might play with. When I’m not immersed in a novel. That’s the fundamental problem right now: I’m focused on a long project, and I have a growing list of smaller projects I’d like to spend time on (including editing some stories that aren’t working yet, that I have hope for). Somehow, there’s never enough time for all the things I want to accomplish. And that, perhaps, is the appeal of NaNoWrMo – to simply dive in and go for it.

Maureen

A Lack of Blogginess

Writing is going well, but I have no blogginess in me, at all, at all. Perhaps I’ll just share this quote:

But I am very poorly today and very stupid and hate everybody and everything.

Charles Darwin

Somehow, this quote makes me very happy. I read it and think, Oh, I’m not the only one who has days like that!

Maureen

Life In A Snow Globe

We’re in the middle of a multi-day snowstorm. The snow looks like Hollywood fake snow, like soap flakes shaken out overhead, falling in loose piles. It’s light to walk through, light to shovel, and a sticky, gooey mess on the roads.

There are still leaves on the trees, pumpkins on the steps, and green grass buried under the piles of white, but it’s definitely winter now.

I find myself humming Christmas carols , in our postcard world.

Maureen

 

The Other Louis Sachar

A while ago I came across a quote by Louis Sachar, author of Holes: “I always feel like I live two lives. There’s the famous Louis Sachar and then there’s me. The ‘me’ is the one who just writes in his room everyday and plays bridge and doesn’t see a connection between writing in his room and the books that are out in the world.” He’s still taken aback when someone asks for an autograph. “I want to say, ‘No, I’m this Louis Sachar. You want the other guy.’”

I think this exactly captures my feelings at Wordfest, when kids lined up for autographs. Really? I enjoy the kids, especially when we have time to really connect, but the ‘awe of the author’ moment is really weird. Luckily the work requires that I put aside ego, and simply settle back into story.

Maureen

The Perfect Writing Day

After weeks of interruptions, including a mind-numbing cold, I’ve realized my desire to just sit and write is based on an illusion that has just enough reality to be enticing.

Every now and then I have days when I do just write and write, when I push everything else aside, ignore the phone, and simply write. But no matter how much I long for those days, how much I strive for them, they come when they come, and mostly, they don’t.

Now, after a week away from my stories because of a bug, with all kinds of bits to integrate from Wordfest writing moments, I’m once again longing. Except that I’m longing to nap again, too, as I try to will my cold away just as I try to will perfect writing days.

Sadly, neither works. So, to nap, and then to write, in bits. And to wait for that perfect writing day.

Maureen