I have a lot of truly inspiring women in my circles.
I don’t know if I’m just crazy-lucky, or if brilliant, generous, funny, creative, inspiring women really are a dime a dozen, but for now I won’t question, just appreciate.

Appreciation, in fact, is the name of the game today — thanks to Jote Khalsa, the wonder-mistress behind the blog bless her heart. Jote had this idea to close out the year with 30 days of Gratitude, and she asked folks if they’d like to play along. Now, I am truly abysmal at baseball and frisbie, but gratitude? I’m in!

But, alas, you say, there are only 29 days left in the year!
Yes, I say. That’s the thing about me. I tend to run a little late. But honestly. 29 days is still a lot of gratitude and Jote won’t mind.

So, without further ado, today I’m grateful for poetry. 
I’m grateful for its beauty and for what it offers the mind. 
I’m grateful for what it evokes and for what it confirms.
I’m grateful for the way it can startle and the way it can comfort.
I’m grateful.

And I’m pretty sure Anne Sexton was grateful for it, too, even though it wasn’t able to save her in the end.
I mean really, what’s mother-broth for all the people but poetry?
Poetry.

Yellow

When they turn the sun
on again, I’ll plant children
under it, I’ll light up my soul
with a match and let it sing, I’ll
take my mother and soap her up, I’ll
take my bones and polish them, I’ll
vacuum up my stale hair, I’ll
pay all my neighbours bad debts, I’ll
write a poem called Yellow and put
my lips down to drink it up, I’ll
feed myself spoonfuls of heat and
everyone will be home playing with
their wings and the planet will
shudder with all those smiles and
there will be no poison anywhere, no plague
in the sky and there will be mother-broth
for all the people, and we will
never die, not one of us, we’ll go on
won’t we?

Anne Sexton

(It goes without saying that I’m always thankful for Poetry Friday and, on this day especially, our lovely hostess Tricia at Miss Rumphius. Go read allllll the poetry she’s rounding up today. The world is rapidly becoming a more beautiful place…)

Wow. 
‘Tis the season.
In the last couple of weeks I’ve visited five different schools and spoken with hundreds of kids.
It has been as it always is with these things — hilarious and humbling.

The mind of a seven-year-old is so open and the imagination so vivid that all adult content pales in comparison.
I mean, I try to slide in a thing or two or value but honestly, I wouldn’t mind just giving them the floor. 

For example:

During our discussion of how to fit All the World into a little picture book, a boy reassured me that "the world may seem like a big place to us but in the universe we’re really quite small."

And while making up our own pocket ideas, another little one said, "I’m not sure if this is really real or what, but ‘the sky is a pocket for God’?"

And at one point we were talking about original ideas vs. plagiarism when a young girl (who is apparently going to grow up to be a trial attorney) said, "Well, you may not be able to copy somebody else’s story but you can adapt it."

See what I mean????
Why do I even bother when they are this good?

And then, this morning, I receive this very funny and tender video — the son of one of the librarians I visited with, "reading" A Sock is a Pocket for Your Toes. Not a bad grasp on metaphor for a preschooler, huh?

Oh, lucky lucky lucky me…

I’m just recently back from Dallas where I did three different school visits
and a big literacy event at the zoo.

The whole darn thing was delightful, partly because I was staying with my funny, fascinating and open-hearted cousins… partly because I didn’t have to pack any lunches, take anyone to school, or run a single load of laundry… and partly because reading to that many kids in the span of a few short days is some sort of joy elixir.

The event at the zoo was sponsored by Educational First Steps — a really inspiring organization devoted to high-quality early childhood education for the kids who need it most. A few thousand kids giggled over penguins, fed giraffes, watched puppet shows and went home with books of their own. I did five different readings on a little patio tucked into the "African Savannah" — pitting me against trumpeting elephants and a really randy zebra. This means, of course, that the kids may have no recollection of me being there at all, but I remember them…

The school visits were all slightly less dramatic in terms of setting, but just as sweet. At all three schools we ran out of time before the kids ran out of questions — kind of a thrilling problem to have. One of the funnier moments? During my presentation, I put up a slide of All the World illustrator Marla Frazee. "You and your illustrator growed the same hair!" called out one perceptive kindergartner, almost like our curls were a marketing ploy.

And now here’s a really dear blog post about my visit by one of the school librarians.
Check out the AMAZING banner the kids made me!

Now I’m back home, packing lunches, running loads of laundry and counting my lucky stars that I get to do the kind of work I get to do. (Thank you Barb and Dan, EFS, Hockaday, Lamplighter and Parish Episcopal!)

Perfectly timed with President Obama’s trip to Korea is the Korean translation
of All the World that arrived in my mailbox yesterday!
It was like opening a little miniature art museum in a padded envelope, honestly. 

I don’t even care what it says, it’s so pretty….

Last night, Olympian Ricky Berens made an appearance at my girls’ swim team practice. 
He gave a little pep talk and let the kids pass his gold medal around
and then they got in the pool and he put ’em through their paces. 

They did freestyle drills, mostly.
They talked about breathing. 
And kicking.
The basics. 

It served as a reminder that that’s how we all get from here to there.
Breathing, kicking, the basics.
Whether we’re swimming or running, writing or painting, or just flat out making it through each day…

On Quitting

BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST

How much grit do you think you’ve got?
Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?
You may talk of pluck; it’s an easy word,
And where’er you go it is often heard;
But can you tell to a jot or guess
Just how much courage you now possess?

(Read the rest here…)

I was raised in a house with full-to-groaning bookshelves,
books on our coffee table and by the sides of our beds. 
My daughters are growing up with the same abundance.

So here is a fact that just blows my mind:

In low-income neighborhoods in the U.S., the ratio of books per child is 1 book per every 300 children.

This is a different kind of poverty — maybe a lesser one than the no-health-insurance, no access-to-fresh-and-healthy-food, substandard-housing-and-schools, and prevalent-violence kind of poverty that our activists and politicians and nurses and social workers and teachers are trying to address every day. 

But this is not unrelated to those.
This is a poverty of beauty, a poverty of humor, a poverty of surprise.
This is a poverty of imagination and possibility, and honestly, if we don’t have those things how will any of these other issues ever be answered?

So I am thrilled and honored to be part of this year’s Spoonfuls of Stories, a literacy campaign brought to us by Cheerios. This year, Cheerios is making a donation of $300,000 to First Book, a nonprofit that helps get books into the hands of kids who don’t have them. Plus, they’ve put more than six million books in select Cheerios boxes — small, bilingual versions of five different books, including All the World.

I haven’t actually seen a box myself yet, but I’ve got it on good authority that they’ve arrived in stores.
It is my big hope that there is a child tomorrow morning reading at her breakfast table for the very first time.

 

A couple of years ago, my Small One dressed as Willy Wonka for Halloween.
So appropos, seeing as how she worshipped Roald Dahl and, um, candy.
This year she’s Mickey Mouse, which fits less-well, seeing as you she’s lactose intolerant and all.
But, I digress.

Here’s what I’d like to hand out to trick-or-treaters on Sunday night —

Candy Man

Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew
Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two
The candy man, the candy man can
The candy man can ’cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good

(Read the rest here…)

And then I’d also share this video.

And then most especially  this one, too.

Seriously. I’m going to watch that one again….

Happy Halloween, friends…

(And for more treats, go check out the rest of the Poetry Friday selections!!!)

It’s a funny thing when you work from home, alone, on your own projects.

How do you decide what to do everyday? 

And how do you get yourself to do whatever it is you do decide?

And how do you prevent yourself from napping or eating a pint of Haagen-Daz Strawberry Ice Cream or watching old episodes of The Office all day long? 

Seriously. 
I’m curious to know your answers.

Here are some of mine. 
They change, day to day. 
And, full disclosure, I have been known to sneak in a nap now and again…

I need some shape, form and schedule to my life. 
My daughters provide a lot of this. 
My teaching gig provides the rest.

I say yes to various deadlined projects because once I’m on one deadline, I tend to get a lot of nebulous, undeadlined work done, too.

I play games with myself. 
I must write, for example, straight through without looking up or checking email or answering the telephone until that load of laundry is done. 
This ensures that I work and get the clothes clean.
Not folded, mind you. Just clean.

I drink a lot of La Croix, preferably grapefruit flavored, to avoid the Haagen-Daz.

I save my shower ’til I ‘m desperate for a change of pace. 
Why not write all morning in my running clothes? 
There are benefits to not having a dress code. 
And then, when I’m really stuck or frustrated or nodding off, I take a shower break.
Fresh start.

I set a lot of coffee dates. 
Mostly with other writers.
Usually late in the week, as a reward.
Who needs to watch The Office when the real live people in my life are so clever and entertaining?

I make people promises.
I email my agent or my editor or one of my critique buddies and I say, "I hope to have something to you by Thursday."
This method also known as shaming myself into it…

I compartmentalize my weeks and my days.
Formally. As in, written down, on my calendar.
A full day for critiquing student work.
A morning on school visit correspondence, and an afternoon for poetry.
New picture book drafting until I shower; revisions afterwards.
Middle grade WIP every morning ’til 11.
That sort of thing.

When I’m catching up on email, facebook, and really cute and inspiring YouTube videos, I grab lunch, take my laptop out on the deck, and acknowledge it all for the treat it is. Then I pack up, head back inside and get to work.

Sometimes I flat-out have to leave the house. 
There are days when I’m too tired or too distractable or the house is too much of pit for me to focus.
They invented coffee houses for a reason.

Often I book school visits.
To add shape, form and schedule to my life, yes.
But also to remind myself exactly why I do what I do.

Because that, when it comes right down to it, is the only thing that really works, day after day after day.

Not La Croix.
Not a mid-day shower with lavender shower gel.
Not lunch on the deck watching videos.

But remembering who I write for (kids) and why (love and joy).
That pretty much lights a fire under me.

You? 

I’ve posted this poem before but some just bear repeating. 
This is for my growing daughters.
This is for my healing husband.
This is for my sister and my girlfriends.
This is for my students who want to know the rules.
This is for the writers, the artists, the dancers.
This is for the deciders.
This is for me.
This is for you.

God Says Yes To Me

Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes

(Read the rest here. Really. Do. Yes.)

So this morning, a friend of mine got a personal note from her friends at Amazon.com.
They wanted to recommend a book to her, based on her interests.
They’re thoughtful that way.

They thought, since she’d previously ordered All the World by Liz Garton Scanlon that she "might like to know that Biorelated Polymers: Sustainable Polymer Science and Technology will be released on November 2, 2010."

That is all.