I have a few dear and beloved people in my heart this morning,
people whose bodies are have been surprised and ravaged by illnesses.
Sometimes these are surmountable and sometimes not.
And life is short, we realize, either way.

BY MARIA HUMMEL

(Read the rest here…)

Poetry Friday is at The Opposite of Indifference today…

Whew.
With just two more school visits before the year's end, I find myself looking back at this very busy season of events, presentations and festivals with a rosy glow. 

The only low points?

My spaciness increased as the weeks wore on (I told my daughter I was in Philadelphia when really I was in Indianapolis… I left critical computer cords in a hotel and an airport… and I threw away my rental car keys). 

And my voice sounded, more often than not, like I was a very hard-partying college student.
Or Lauren Bacall on a bad day.

But the high points far outweighed all that.

I got to hang out with a whole bunch of brilliant and inspiring authors and illustrators in four states and at multiple events. 
I got to eat salted caramels, fancy mashed potatoes out of a martini glass, and the most delicious grilled asparagus.
I got to sell and sign about a zillion books.
I got to talk about picture books day after day, to people who love them — writers, parents, teachers, librarians, kids.
I got to listen to other writers give talks that made me laugh and cry.
I got to see leaves change and snow fall.
I got to see family at times I wouldn't normally see them, teachers from when I was a teen, and dear old friends.

And, most importantly, I got to speak with a few thousand kids about reading, language, creativity, passion, revision, determination, and books. I can honestly say that every hour I spend reading and talking with kids — at schools and libraries, in tents and in gardens — is an eye-opening, heart-exploding pleasure. Their probing and thoughtful questions, their funny comments, and their willingness to bond so quickly and openly over a shared love? I just walk away gob-smacked every time. 

So, as we head into Thanksgiving season, I want to express my gratitude to all the teachers, librarians, PTAs and festival organizers who make these connections possible. Who knew, when I started noodling around with rhymes for kids, that it would lead to this great joy.

I'll leave you with one of the comments I got from a third grader a couple of weeks ago:

"You seem very happy with your job even though they make you work so hard and you're not exactly rich. So that's good."

Yep. That is good.

(A post note: This was the same day a little girl asked me what the meaning of my life was. Ha. And people think you've got to dumb-down to write for kids.)

"Because luck is always odd…"

This poem for you all on this day that feels, somehow, both round and prime:

Reasons For Numbers
by Lisel Mueller

1

Because I exist

2

Because there must be a reason
why I should cast a shadow

3

So that good can try to be better
and become best
and beginning grow into middle and end

4

So the round earth can have its corners
and the house will not fall down around me

So the seasons will go on holding hands
and the string quartet play forever

5

For the invention of Milton and Shakespeare
and the older invention
of the wild rose, mother
to the petals
of my hand

6

Because
five
senses
are
not
enough

7

Because luck
is always odd
and the division
of history
into lean and fat
                           years
mysterious

8

To make the spider
possible
and the black ball which tells me
the game is up

but also to let
the noise of the world
make itself heard
as music

9

For the orbit of Jupiter
                        Saturn
                        Venus
                        Mars
                        Mercury
                        Uranus
                        Mickey Mantle
                        Lou Gehrig
                        Babe Ruth

10

Created functionless, for the sheer play
of the mind in its tens of thousands of moves

There is nothing like it in nature

Poetry Friday is being hosted today at Teaching Authors. Go see!

Aliteracy.
Knowing how to read, but not wanting to.
Which is a bummer, right?
Actually, more than a bummer.
 
And that's why we hosted the smart and generous and entertaining Andy Sherrod at our middle school this past week.
 
Andy’s a writer (and pecan farmer!) who has his MFA from Vermont College. And, in the process of getting that degree, he became quite the expert on aliteracy – particularly aliterate boys.
 
What Andy says is, aliteracy is way more than a bummer.
It goes like this:
If you read less, you read less well.
If you read less well, you do less well (in school, work, life).

Yipes.
 
So he talked about getting boys interested in books by giving them the books that interest them.  Which sounds like a big no-duh, but when you consider the fact that the people helping boys choose books are, often, female teachers, female librarians, and moms, well…
 
So here are some components of books that appeal to boys, according to Andy. (And, mind you, this is in a nutshell. If you’ve got one of these kids in your house or in your class, email Andy and he’ll be more detailed and articulate than I can be.)
 

1. Boy-ish protagonists: Preferably an actual boy, but boy readers are also ok with girl protagonists doing boy-like things and adventures.
2. A problem or conflict that is physical in nature (rather than relationship-centered) and that the protagonist solves on his own (rather than with the help of community)
3. Authentic emotional content (ie, boys can cry, even in front of friends, but then they might crack a joke, or otherwise deflect a little). (Andy definitely wasn’t saying boys don’t or shouldn’t emote – just that they want to believe the emotions their characters express.)
4. Facts and information – boys love this stuff – and The Guinness Book of World Records isn’t the only way to get it. There are biographies and narrative nonfiction and historical novels and all you’ve got to do is match the boy reader to his passion.

 
Andy said a bunch of other things, too. And he recommended www.Guys Read.com. And he tossed out a bunch of book suggestions – everything from Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet to Michele Torrey’s Voyage Series to Catherine Thimmesh’s Team Moon.
 
He also said that our kids – boys and girls – should see us read. Which seems like another no-duh but honestly, lots of us wait ‘til bedtime to pick up a book, because earlier we’re making dinner. Or doing dishes. Or paying bills.
 
But look! A new to-do.
Permission to plop yourself down and read.
Carry on.

It was cold and windy here this morning — 
even the birds were surprised and talking about it.
It's been hot for so long, not a single one of us
knows quite what to do. 

Here's what they did. The birds, I mean.
They gathered.

They made me want to find some bird poems.
Here are two. They have nothing to do with each other.
Except for the birds, I mean. 
And the second one ends in a typically Bukowski-ish manner (ie, with a four-letter word).
So, you've been warned. But I couldn't resist it. It's just too good….

The Oven Bird
by Robert Frost

(Read the rest here…)

8 Count
by Charles Bukowski

Poetry Friday's at Random Noodling today!

Whew. 
Just taking a sec to catch my breath here. 

The Texas Book Festival, which happens every October in and around the Capital in Austin, has come and gone and I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling like this year's was the best yet.

Partly because my girls are Just the Right Age to fully appreciate it. They had all their own events picked out and had us running from one hot number to the next, with the high point being a funny, honest, thoughtful and tender conversation between Kate DiCamillo and Rebecca Stead.

And partly because I had such fun things to do myself! A couple of lovely parties… a storytime reading of Noodle & Lou… and a really dynamite rhyme-and-story-making session in the Kids Activity Tent. I worked with author Kate Hosford and a whole bunch of kids to craft "The Owl That Used to Howl."

(Really, if the truth be known, Kate and I just took dictation. The kids were kind of crazy-brilliant and creative. For example, an owl raised by wolves. Perfection.)

So, without further nattering, enjoy their yarn:

The Owl That Used to Howl

The owl with gray feathers
was moving through the sky
He howled his wolfy howl
but it turned into a sigh. Why?

The wolves were listening
for their favorite bird
They recognized his sad, sad voice — 
the sweetest sound they'd heard.

The End

In the past week, I've spent time with hundreds of kids,
reading and talking about books. 
This makes me so happy. 
And, it makes me laugh.

School visits are wildly unpredictable. 
I mean, yes, I have my Powerpoint and all, but you just never know what the kids are going to say or ask.
I often see teachers, in my peripheral vision, cover their eyes or cringe in fear.
Teachers do not love wild-card moments.
But I do. 

Here's a little smattering of good lines and questions from my most recent sessions in Wisconsin:

While talking about Noodle & Lou, one boy told me worms are important because "they untighten the earth."

A student asked me why I would keep doing something that takes so long, and another asked me which "rejected book" I love the most. Sigh…

A little girl asked me if I lived with my editor.

A little boy asked me why I didn't just work harder and draw my own books.

And, this week's top cutest comment, shared during a discussion about authors and illustrators and author-illustrators:

"How about Dr. Seuss?? He's a doctor AND an illustrator!"

I've got lots of school visits planned for the next month.
Needless to say, I can't wait for more…

Last winter sometime, the lovely folks from
the Houston chapter of SCBWI asked if I'd come over
and give them a one-day workshop on The PIcture Book.

And I said, "Sure!"
Because that's my factory-default setting.

Fast forward a bunch of months, and suddenly it occurs to me I need to plan a one-day workshop on The Picture Book. One-day as in all day. I need a reading list and an outline of topics and a Powerpoint and a plan. I run to the library. I read a whole bunch. I brainstorm and talk out loud. I scurry around without getting much accomplished. I panic a little bit. Time is drawing nigh.

And then suddenly it is October 1st — last Saturday — and there we all are, in a most beautiful, sunlit, high-ceilinged room at St. Martin's Episcopal Church — two big screens and a microphone and the entire day available to talk about picture books. And never mind the scurrying and the panic because we are a roomful of people who want to spend an entire day talking about picture books. Isn't that a dreamy thing? I mean, I couldn't get my computer to talk to the projector at first, and I had way more material than I actually needed (it could've been a two-day workshop!), but all-in-all it was wonderful, thanks to my gracious hosts, a lovely space and a shared passion.

We talked a lot about how deceptively simple but deeply important picture books are — to kids and their grown-ups. I think it helps, when the work gets hard, to know that that's because the work matters. It sort of validates the headachey hair-pulling-out frustration, right?

We talked about a lot of other things, too — remember, it was a whole day — and I for one was all wrung-out at the end. But also so inspired by all the energy in that room that I came home and got to work. Hope everyone else did, too.

Thanks, Houston!

Do you ever take a break from writing or, god forbid, from reading? 
Or maybe not a break but you get distracted.
Or waylaid.
Or lost?

And then you worry that you'll never get back to words again? 
Because the path has been blown over with leaves or you've forgotten how to think that way?

It's scary.

I've been in a writing ditch for awhile, and last night the muck cleared.
The same 26 letters that are available to me every day — the ones that have just been inscrutable lately — suddenly fell into place on the page. Thank goodness.

Who wants to be without poetry?

BY KEN MIKOLOWSKI

(Yep. That's the whole poem. I just didn't have the heart to excerpt something this small and perfect. For more treasures, go see Sara Lewis Holmes for Poetry Friday. That's what I'm gonna do.)

As consequence of the kind of work I do, I end up with a fair stack of ARCs on my coffee table, pretty much all the time.

(For the uninitiated, ARCs are the paperback not-quite-totally-perfectly finished books that go out to booksellers and reviewers and librarians and, um, me, before the book is actually published.)

And, as consequence of having all these ARCs lying around, we seem to be reading them exclusively these days.

(Currently finishing the amazing and tender Water Balloon by my agent-sister-and-dear-friend Audrey Vernick (more on that later)(and yes, I know it's actually OUT now, but we still like the ARC)(and yes, I realize these parentheticals are getting a little out of control))

(About to start Colin Meloy's Wildwood (ditto on the already out part))

(And Tall One is finishing Lauren Oliver's Liesl & Po)

So, I'm wondering. 
What does this say about us, in terms of patience?
Er, IMpatience.

I have thought for a long time that the reason I got involved in the publishing industry was to test and grow my patience. But this seems to be undermining all that. Mercy. I'm all mixed up….