Hello, friends.
Helloooo… hellooo… helloooo…..

I don’t know if any of you are out there since I dropped this puppy like a hot potato a month ago.
The thing is, I was going on the road and figured I’d do these post-cardy posts along the way.
So, no use signing off for a month.
Right?

Left, as the Big Friendly Giant would say.

I have been rather happily untethered from my computer, my cell phone won’t hold a charge
and my hiking boots are seriously broken in.
I’ve seen moose, elk, deer, fox, pronghorn antelope, marmot, osprey, bald eagles and red tail hawks.
I’ve seen a lot of stars.

I’ve listened to Harry Potter, Roald Dahl and David Sedaris in the car.
I’ve read some Mary Pipher, two novels and quite a few articles in Vanity Fair.

I’ve slept rather well.

In the midst of all this goodness, I have worked some, too.
I’m writing something new and revising something old.
I’ve attended to numerous tasks for this fall — setting up readings and events for All the World,
planning my next class, thinking about a new and improved web site.
I’ve corresponded with some folks I ought to be corresponding with.

But I haven’t blogged.
Or read blogs.

I’ve missed you all and am taking a little time in the next couple of days to get back up to speed.
Stay tuned for various tid-bits and updates and even a few early reviews of my upcoming book.

And, in the meantime, happy summer to you all.
Step outside and check out the stars.
They’re pretty awesome…
 

I get so excited about summer vacation that I sometimes forget to pause and reflect on the awesomeness that is my daughters’ school.

But downloading photos tonight reminded me of just a few of the myriad reasons my children are curious, inspired and thriving…

First, a few snaps of the 2nd graders’ Greek Gods and Goddesses Feast and Fashion Show:

HESTIA  — Keeping the flame alive

ATLAS — workin’ it

That’s MS. MEDUSA to you, students…

Dolmas and olives and hummus, oh my!

And then, equally as cool, the older kiddos performing scenes from Much Ado About Nothing:

Swoon….

I’m so regularly full of gratitude for their teachers that words are inevitably inadequate.

Fortunately "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much. "

(Side note: Get thee to Ms. Kelly Fineman’s fabulous Brush up on Shakespeare Month, asap.)

My publicity friends at Simon & Schuster emailed me yesterday to tell me I’m going to the
Texas Book Festival!
(Which is kind of a funny thing to get excited about since the Texas Book Festival is about 6 minutes from my house — and that includes parking.)

But this year I’ll be going as a participant — with a  new stack of picture books beside me.
(All the World will have been out for a few weeks by then…)

I don’t yet know what they’ll have me doing but I’m happy to just brush shoulders with all the big kids, smile and sign.
If you’re going to be in Austin Halloween weekend, swing on by!

So last week I posted very briefly about the sale of my next picture book, Noodle and Lou.

It was brief because the only thing more exciting than having a book sale announced in Publisher’s Marketplace is summer vacation, which commenced that very day.

(We’ve got our priorities straight over here.)

Anyway, I actually did want to say a little more about this happy development, and now that I’ve completely exhausted my children by tossing bedtimes out the window, I have some breathing room with which to do so.

Here Goes:

Noodle and Lou are a worm and a bird, respectively.

On their behalf, I wrote a story that came in at about 186 words, some of which rhymed, many of which sort of stunk.

That was about a year and many, many incarnations ago.
(I cannot admit how many because I like to keep up the illusion of being a sane and productive person.)

My agent and editor each saw it at least three times over the course of nearly six months.

It went from 186 words to 179 to 161 to 210 to 247.
(The only manuscript in the history of the world to get longer during the revision process.)

It went from partial rhyme to no rhyme to complete rhyme.

And it went from stinky to sold.

That was at the end of March.
I was happy about that, and it sure made Noodle feel better about himself…

And then I got an email saying Arthur Howard liked it and had signed on to illustrate it!
I was really, really happy about that, and it made Noodle feel just ducky!
That was on the 2nd of May.

And then, just a couple of weeks ago, I got an email saying Noodle and Lou would be on the Summer 2010 list!
(Which is like mock-speed in picture book land…)
So now Noodle and Lou are shaking their tail-feathers.
(Well, you know, figuratively speaking in Noodle’s case.)

And I am, too.
Well, you know, figuratively speaking.

It is officially summer here.
The deck is draped with drying towels.
The freezer is full of popsicles.
The kids are home, flopping around in their jammies, making collages out of the National Geographics and listening to Harry Potter on their iPods.

I love summer.
I love the sense of closure that comes with the end of a school year.
I love that bedtimes don’t matter and alarms don’t ring.
I love my kids home, flopping around in their jammies, making collages out of the National Geographics and listening to Harry Potter on their iPods.

Still, as a parent, there is always something bittersweet about the passage of time.
The teacher goodbyes ache.
The outgrown clothes stun.
The independence startles.

It is honestly hard for me to believe that when we start back to school in August, I will have a 3rd grader and a 5th grader on my hands. My breath catches when I realize how long my little ones have been around, how fast they’ve grown, how not-very-little they are.

I relish each new idea they grasp, each new step they take into themselves, I really do.
But dang, if it could just slow down, ’cause I really, really, really like having them around…

My own personal antidotes to the poignancy?
Spending lots of time together.
Taking pictures.
A good dose of humor.
Poetry.

Y’know, this sort of thing:

For a Girl I Know about to Be a Woman

by Miller Williams

(Read the rest here…)

This today in Publisher’s Marketplace:

World rights to author of the forthcoming ALL THE WORLD (illustrated by Marla Frazee) Liz Garton Scanlon’s picture book NOODLE AND LOU, about a worm and a bird who have an unlikely and unconditional friendship, to be published in summer 2010 and illustrated by MR. PUTTER AND TABBY’s Arthur Howard, to Allyn Johnston at Beach Lane Books, by Erin Murphy.

Running out the door right now — last day of school for my girls — but I just wanted to say:

Am I blessed in the illustrator department, or what!??!?!???!?!

Pinch me.

My friend Robin just reminded me of this lovely, lovely quote from The Elements of Style:

All writers, by the way they use the language, reveal something of their spirits, their habits, their capacities, and their biases. This is inevitable as well as enjoyable. All writing is communication; creative writing is communication through revelation — it is the Self escaping into the open. No writer long remains incognito.

It’s interesting.
I think it’s the opposite of what I believed when I started writing heavily as a teen.
I thought it would provide the perfect hiding place.
Incognito for all eternity.

But I guess not.
I think White’s right.
We reveal ourselves daily through our words.

Which, it turns out, is a relief and a pleasure.
Because who wants to walk around with a paper bag over her head anyway?

I’d trade intimacy for incognito any day…

In order to back myself away from the brink a little, I’ve significantly lowered my writing expectations
these past couple of weeks.
Revisions? Yes.
But not much day-to-day grind.

Because my day-to-day has been a whirlwind of teaching, critiquing and grading and, other than that, camping out at the elementary school for all the various programs, presentations, grand finales and celebrations. Just this morning, in fact, I was witness to a spectacular Greek Gods and Goddesses Fashion Show and Food Tasting, thanks to a very creative bunch of 2nd graders. My own Small One (a.k.a. Hestia, keeper of the hearth) managed to keep her sacred candle burning for the full event with no ill effects except for a little wax in her hummus.

So.
I’ve got some good photos and a relatively well organized to-do list, but no new manuscript prospects.
Which is… frustrating.
Scary.
Depressing.
Hard.

And that’s where The Dead Waitress comes in.
My first horror story.
I think.

Here’s the deal.
My ten-year-old Tall One started her own horror story, The Dead Waitress, about a week ago.
Early self-reviews were titillating.

So, my husband said he’d write a Dead Waitress story, too.

And then, last night, Small One started work on The Deadly Waiter.

There’s a reading set for June 11th in our dining room.
The gauntlet’s been thrown.

I’d love to stick around but I’ve got work to do…

It has seemed lately that my family owes some sort of karmic debt to the dog world.

A couple of weeks ago, my eldest daughter was bitten on the ankle by a friend’s anxious canine.

A couple of days ago, my very elderly and submissive pup was attacked by a neighbor’s pooch who jumped the fence.

And yesterday, our Arts in Education committee up at school was asked to revisit a mural because the depicted dogs were "off leash". (As my Small One said when I told her the story, "Seriously, Mom. It’s a mural!")

I’m mindful of the fact that we’ve got it good.
During the years when my sister lived in East Africa, we discovered that my mom
has some past life business to sort out with elephants.
For real.
They charge her.

So, dog shmog.
Except for this:

I really like dogs.
Actually, I love them.

I loved growing up with Sage and Smoky .
I loved lounging around with Piney in college.
And when those three dogs all died in their time, I cried and cried and cried.

And now I love Boca.

I love that we got her as a fearful baby and raised her up happy.
I love that she always slept under the girls’ cribs to keep them safe.
I love that she swims like a queen.
I love that she still barks for walks.
I love that she wears silent-film-star-eyeliner.
I love that she loves the cats.
I love that she loves us.

Got that, dog gods?
I’m fond of your kind!
Give me a break here!

Let’s settle this issue once and for all.
Here’s an old slipper.
Here’s a soft bed.
Milk bones all around.
 

Dog Music

by Paul Zimmer

(Read the rest of this gorgeous, gorgeous poem here…)

Aaarf. And namaste.

Would you like to know a little bit more about Beach Lane Books,
home to All the World and its ingenious editor? 

Here ya go….

Lucky, lucky me…