As part of this week’s mega update on all things processy, I decided to share the good, bad and ugly.

Because otherwise… well… I would be lying.

About how I pretty much think up great ideas in the morning and hang on the beach drinking pina coladas in the afternoon.

Most days are kind of not very much like that.
And some are the polar opposite. 

In fact, a whole bunch of those polar opposite days have hung themselves to the rafters of one of my manuscripts.
You know it as Wind but I occasionally refer to it as "that cursed Wind" or "that blasted Wind". If you get my drift.

So, a little backstory.

My very first drafts of this story are from 2003.

It lived at a publishing house (without a contract) for almost 2 years before being squeaked out of the final aquisition step.
Which was a bitter pill.

But I revised it and I got it back out there.

Blasted Wind.

And then, in 2007, it found its way into the waiting arms of Allyn Johnston (then at Harcourt).
We revised and revised and revised and it was about ready to go (with Marla Frazee illustrating) when I wrote All the World. And in our excitement over that project, we sort of kicked Wind to the curb. With every intention of coming back later to pick ‘er up and dust ‘er off.

Well. It’s later.
It’s been later for awhile now.
I spent a chunk of time in the fall revising it.
Again.
Re-imagining.
Re-writing.
One time I literally started from scratch.

It was as if I was getting further from understanding it the longer I lived with it.

So, in November, we decided to put it back on hold.
Indefinately.

Cursed Wind.

Sometimes I wonder if its role in my life was just to introduce me to Allyn and Marla so we could get All the World made.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s just been a very long and sustained exercise in futility craft.
And then other times, I’m sure that the hold is temporary and that it will see the light of day as a book someday soon.
I’ve dreamt about it more than once.
(But then, I recently had a dream about my husband eating plastic children’s toys, so don’t give too much credence to my subconscious…)

The truth is, I don’t know what’s next for Wind, but I can tell you that you needn’t be watching the catalogs for it.
Not now.
Not yet.

Certain British authors who are now richer than the Queen notwithstanding, most of us children’s authors need to pick up some extra work along the way.

For me, that’s taken many guises over the years and I still threaten to chuck it all and go pack gift baskets at the Whole Foods. I seriously think I’d be kind of good at that.

In the meantime, though, school visits.
They’re a pretty natural fit.
Write for children? Take your books to them.
Duh. Right?

Right, except for the fact that teachers are given less and less discretionary time to devote to these sorts of non-standards-based enrichment activities. And PTAs, librarians and districts are likely to see less and less discretionary funding made available for the same.

I’m lucky in that I actually love doing school visits.
They exhaust but inspire me and remind me of exactly what it is I’m doing and why.

Still, I’ve got to get in the door.

Which is why I’ve spent some time lately working with the most excellent Natalie Lorenzi — children’s author, freelance writer, teacher and creator of curriculum guides for authors.

In a previous life, I’m pretty sure Natalie was Rumplestiltskin.
Seriously.
She is given an ordinary book and somehow spins all sorts of related, standards-based activities out of it.
And they’re not boring!
They’re creative, fun, hands-on and, if you ask me, worth their weight in gold.

She’s done one for my first book and, before long, she will have finished one for my second, due out late summer. And I’m immensely grateful, because I think they just may be the key to staying pertinent in the eyes of educators — even while recognizing the duel demons of testing and budget constraints.

If you’re a teacher or librarian and would like to see my curriculum guide, click here.
(I don’t have it up on my web site yet, but I will as soon as I can figure that out…)

If you’re an author and you’re curious, go to Natalie’s site, where you can look at mine and at least one other sample.
I think you’ll agree that she works a certain sort of magic. And I’m betting that her waiting list is about to get loooong, so make haste.

And if you’re neither teacher, librarian nor author and you’re still reading, bless you.
You’re probably related to me and I owe you one.

More thrilling news in the life of a writer girl tomorrow…

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve posted about my process.

For one thing, I doubled my teaching load this semester so blogging hours have taken a serious hit.

For another thing, not training for a marathon has been as hard as training for a marathon (go figure), so I’ve been negotiating that minefield instead of the usual literary naval gazing.
(Dang if it isn’t always something…)

And for a third thing, my process has been highly erratic of late.
I’m working on various projects in fits and starts.
There have been dizzying high points and super slo-mo frustrating lows.
And I’ve been too "in it" to offer any reflections that are more articulate than sort of homo habilis-esque grunts.

All that said, I’ve got a bunch of thoughts piled up here so this next week or so I’ll share them.
If it gets too self-referential, please tell me to stop and I’ll do a post of knock-knock jokes are something.
Okay?

And now, to kick it off, this awesomely inspiring YouTube vid on making art.
(Passed on by my friend Kath…)

More tomorrow…
Namaste.

Last night, we went to the rodeo.

This is Texas, after all.

We rode the ferris wheel, ate cotton candy, and watched cowboys try to best the 8-second buzzer by holdin’ on & hopin’.

It’s a funny thing, the rodeo.
All belt buckles and bluster.
I’m not so sure I love every little bit of it,
but that’s not really what we’re promised when we step into something new and different, is it?

Plus, in the end, the rodeo’s as much about a love of horses as anything.
And having been one of those girls (the pretending, the posters, the finally — really, finally — a horse of my own!) — I can wrap my mind around that.

So here, in a different setting than the ones we watched last night, are James Wright’s horses:

A Blessing

In anticipation of National Poetry Month (aka April) I wanted to let you know that:

There are a few different ways to receive a poem in your inbox each day all month long.
Try here and here, for starters.

There are also loads of ways kids can enjoy National Poetry Month.

April 30th marks the 2nd Annual Poem in Your Pocket Day. Make sure you’re prepared with a favorite verse — portable, pocketable, shareable. (Lucky me, my very own Sock is a Pocket is featured on the lower left-hand side of this page!!)

I am committing to writing one haiku each day in April. Haiku are deceptively small little poems with a lot of parameters. I hope to have a handle on just some of them by the end of April. Have mercy on me…

What are you doing to celebrate?

Do you know how it is when, for days on end, all your conversations seem to converge?

The same book mentioned in three different contexts?

A scientific phenomonen you’ve never heard of — on the radio, in a novel and discussed at a dinner with friends?

You, lost on the way to an appointment, your neighbor, lost on the way to a funeral and your child, afraid of getting lost?

It is as if all paths lead you to the same nut, one you’re clearly meant to crack and dig into, little by little, until you’ve gotten the very meat out and are satisfied.

Satisfied, mind you, doesn’t necessarily mean figured out.

My deepest lessons of the past decade, as a mother and a writer and a person, have been around acknowledging that very little is actually ever figured out or finished. Rather, there are moments of utter vividness, of joy, of understanding. And those serve as stepping stones to the next moments, some of which are equally lovely, but some of which are confusing, dark and scary.

Just when I thought I had things truly pegged, too. Dang. But I am in process. Before I know it, there are other moments. New paths. The number of nuts to crack is infinite. Which, granted, can be terrifying but also, sometimes, a keen comfort and relief.

This week, I talked with a friend about the internet and ended up on the subject of children, growing up.
I spoke with someone else about academic testing and ended up on the subject of children, facing life.
I listened to a podcast, read a news article, attended a meeting, and each time, in each place, there were these profound and poignant details that spoke directly to me about children, coming of age.

What a nut. What a daunting stockpile of nuts.
It reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago, when I had babies.
I thought I’d share it today…

Details of Devotion

Your first-year molar, three

of the four cusps cut through gummy

velvet, pursy as a jewelry bag

Your fingers dexterous as a nibbed pen

the precision with which you worry

the flesh of my arm as you fall asleep

Three thick creases in each leg

the one mid-thigh, deep and laughing

two shorter, fuller ones near your knees

Toes soft white and tender – a row

of tiny scallops at the end

of each round foot

And I could go on, I’d like to

with details so minute and sublime

my breath catches like teeth on a zipper

But there is a world to attend to

terrible news and sorrows

Mothers everywhere wonder:

She can run now,

she can feed herself.

Is it enough?

My day today includes an appointment at the dentist and more revisions, so instead of my own post I thought I’d share a few things with you:

The first, from London’s The Guardian via my aunt, is a lovely Jeannette Winterson article on the most inspiring independent bookstore in the world.

The next, a YouTube video via a student of mine, on the difficult technological transition from scroll to book.

And finally, these very delicious read-alouds by Mem Fox.

Enjoy.

I spent this morning with hundreds of five- to eight-year-olds, talking about rhyming, writing and pockets. My voice is a little hoarse and I could definately use a nap, but am otherwise none the worse for wear.

Really, kids tend to take it easy on us children’s authors.
Often, in fact, I get hugs and little poems and huge beamy grins.

Today, a little boy came running up after our session to show me a drawing.
"I’ve got to show this to you before I give it to my mom!" he said.
It was a self-portrait — the teeth were particularly detailed — and he really wanted to show me.

Made for a pretty swell day.

There were a couple of other high points, too.

A 2nd grade boy’s reaction as I "read" my book aloud without looking at the text:
Don’t tell me you’ve got this whole thing memorized!

A few different ideas on what a school could be a pocket for:
A school is a pocket for kids.
A school is a pocket for learning.
A school is a pocket for mice!

And a little girl’s reaction to my pocket-heavy fishing vest:
It’s like a shirt only useful.

Exactly.
I mean, an ordinary shirt? 
What’s the point?

There’s often much discussion — amongst parents and teachers, writers and librarians, readers and bloggers –about how to engage kids in literacy.

Much discussion and some head scratching and occasionally a frustrated thump on the noggin.

It’s one of those things that seems like it should be easier than it is.
I mean, we’re talking about stories here, right???
Everyone loves a good story!

But we’re up against really compelling new media.
And educational inequality.
And fear.

We’re dealing with time constraints and financial limitations.
Fill-in-the-dot tests.

We are talking about stories here, but the noise in the room is overwhelming…

Shhhh!
Enter our friends at Share a Story – Shape a Future!!
They’ve created a week-long blog event during which we can think about literacy to our heart’s content.
Nothing’s getting in the way.

Here’s the entire schedule.
Now carry on because there’s already a lot out there, and it’s good.

My ten-year-old has a truly global sensibility.
Always has.
From about age four, she’d tell anyone who’d listen that she was into "cultures".

At various times we’ve had on our hands a budding anthropologist, a high priestess, a peacekeeper, a journalist, and a political rabble rouser. These days she makes it clear that she’ll do any variety of work as long as she has to travel around the world to do it.

In the meantime, though, she does what she can.
Experiments with Chinese calligraphy.
Dances to world beat.
Cuddles up at night with a sarong she calls Rosa.

And, lately, throw herself into Pennies for Peace.
Pennies for Peace is the charitable offshoot of the book Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson.
The premise is that the way toward world peace, prosperity and equality is through education.
And that every penny counts when trying to educate all the world’s children.

Yesterday, my girl introduced Pennies for Peace to the other fourth graders at her school.
Today, she hosted a Pakistani friend who talked to the kids about life in his home country.

The reception the kids gave him was vibrant.
They couldn’t stop popping up onto their knees with questions.
About the climate, the clothing, the game of cricket.

One little boy ended up telling the visitor about how Pakistan used to be a part of India — and asked him if he’d ever heard of Ghandi. And another pointed out that maybe K2 isn’t the second-tallest mountain in the world if you counted one of the oceanic mountains. Lots of the kids wanted to hear him speak in Urdu.

What struck me about the whole thing was how comfortable these kids are with the notion that the world is small and full of friends.

Seems to me that they’re presuming something that we still don’t always ‘get’ — at societal and political levels. What we see as groundbreaking, they take as a given. And that is the sort of thing that helps me sleep well at night…

So in honor of my Tall One, and all her open-hearted friends, these few words from Whitman today.
Namaste.

from A Passage to India
by Walt Whitman

 (Read the rest here…)