I've got Sneaky Plans and Clever Tricks....

OMG - have you ever read the Enormous Crocodile to a group of 3rd graders? It is one of the funniest books to share with kids - and I've completely fallen in love with it. I have the enormous crocodile's voice in my head right now as I write this blog post.

So, the question is, what are MY sneaky plans and clever tricks? I'm crossing the road with my stories. I'm contorting myself to do the job. I've started the Kids Fic Critique Group, and have been submitting stories for feedback. Next step - placing them in the envelope, and sending them off with a kiss. In the past, I've been exclusive with my submissions - but not any more. Nope. I'm going broader, baby, and I can't wait. Sneaky plans, clever tricks, and lots of stamps in this girls future. Also considering pseudonym's - because as much as my writing is about following my bliss - it's also about getting readers to pick my books off the shelf. I have a long, unpronounceable last name, and I'm afraid it will scare readers away. What's in a name anyway, right Dr. Seuss? Anyhow, I'm considering names that have meaning to me - I'm not going to go out there and grab a trendy name. I still have family values. I'm not selling out, yet. For now, I'm going to walk the walk and make it so.

Out and about today, thinking

I had a very grand day today. Nothing special - probably mundane to most people - but for me my mind was clicking about making connections and being hopeful.

This is what I did:

1. I spent 5 minutes with Kieran (before school) showing him how to put rosin on his bow. I tried to explain how far to tighten it, how to hold it, etc. All learned by me last night on YouTube (Yahoo Web 2.0).

2. I remembered to pack lunches.

3. I remembered to send lunches.

4. I walked the big boys to school while James stayed with Aidan.

5. I read with a small group of Kindergarteners for 20 minutes.

6. I returned home and did ring around the rosie with Aidan. We did some fingerplays, giggled, read a book, and had a small snack.

7. Aidan and I visited with our neighbour and her therapy dog named Lucy.

8. I wrestled Aidan into the car (he hates to leave his furry friends).

9. We listened to music and drove downtown. I filled up the car with gas, Aidan fell asleep, I drove for a bit and wondered if it was too cold to go to the Wharf.

10. Instead of the Wharf, we went to the mall to get James the shirt he needs for work.

11. Aidan charmed 3 of the Eddie Bauer workers.

12. We met an old woman who admired how good natured Aidan is. He waved at her.

13. We saw groups of adults with special needs shopping. They had workers with them, and it was a completely normal experience for them, and for everyone else shopping.

14. 13 made me think of my dad and how years ago I skipped school to help take him and some other patients from the hospital on a cruise on the Chi Cheemaun from the Owen Sound harbour to Tobermory. Dad and some of the others were in wheelchairs and we took them to the lounge near the bow so they could see out. The other people who were sitting nearby got noticeably uncomfortable and left. It was a day that my heart was on my sleeve - I rarely got to be out of the hospital with Dad, and the fact that we were on the ferry together was monumental in my teenage brain. I wanted to say something meaningful and life-changing to those people. I wanted them to look at people with disabilities differently. I wanted them to see that my dad had a certain dignity, a way of holding his head up high, a twinkle in his eye, and an intelligence that never dimmed. But, I didn't say anything, just gulped it down and tried to forget them (obviously that is not the case as this event took place over 20 years ago).

15. The wistful looking back, and today's ability to sit with Aidan in the quiet noise of the mall, and the realizing of how far we've come in regards to people who are differently-abled made me hopeful for our future. Made me grateful for Aidan's future. And, well, just made me grateful in general.

16. The list went on, but I will not.

A Night at the Roundtable

When I first moved to the West Coast 5 months ago I joined two groups - the Writer's Society and the Children's Literature Roundtable. Both give me an opportunity to pursue my life as a writer of children's fiction - and provide a chance to get out of the house once in a while without the boys.

Last night's Roundtable event was lovely in many ways - I felt like things were finally coming together, and that I was on solid ground. The speakers were Michelle Mulder and Robin Stevenson, and they talked about writing for children, and their experiences getting published. I had met these two months ago at my very first Roundtable night - they chatted with me about living on the coast, about writing, and about our families. I was surprised last night that they remembered me (something in me thinks I am forgettable), and they asked if I was settled in, and how my writing was going. It was nice, you know? Hearing them talk about their journey to become published made me realize that I am closer. Their story could easily be my story.

So, what is the difference between a published author and a wannabee? Persistence, me thinks! I need to do more of the business side of things - writing submission letters, sending them off, and I need to continue to write. If I see myself as a writer, then I am a writer - published or not. Right? Still though, it would be nice to see my books on the library shelf - or rather, not on the shelf - but at the check-out counter, ready to go.

And I am ready, I realize that now. Thank you Roundtable. Thank you Michelle and Robbin. Thank you.

Picture this...

I'm sitting in the Doctor's office - waiting for my physical to begin. I'm wearing a thin blue gown that would get me arrested if I wore it anywhere else but there. I'm waiting, half naked, for 1/2 an hour, sitting on the examining table, swinging my feet back and forth thinking. Thinking: "I'd really like to steal one of those tongue depressers." But I didn't. Then I was thinking of a good opening line for a novel and I thought: "I should write that down before I forget it." So, I'm trying to remember if I have a pen in my purse, and then I'm contemplating writing it on a tongue depresser (they won't mind too much, would they - especially not if my book is any good). I'm just about to hop off the table to "borrow" one of the sticks when I decide I should rummage through my bag for a scrap of paper first. Low and behold, my writing book is actually in there for a change. Then I'm thinking: "okay, it's a sign, this story is meant to be."

I wrote down about half of the first chapter. Developed in my mind 3 of the characters, the setting, and the general plot. I even came up with the perfect title and ran through a list of publishers (in my head, of course) that would consider such a novel.

Now I'm thinking: "is it wrong that I thanked the Doctor for being late?"

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. . . (are living in my closet)

The holidays are on their last legs, the big boys are back to school tomorrow, and my next Masters class begins. Soon, I will be swept up in its momentum, wondering where the lazy days of Christmas went. The tree is coming down, the ornaments wrapped in tissue to preserve them for another year, the Nativity scene likewise put in a safe corner in our little storage closet.

I should come to think of that storage closet as a bunker where Jesus, Mary and Joseph can live together in peace, harmony and good will, uninterrupted by the little hands that reach in to their scene and rearrange them again and again as my children like to do. They will live there until we need them again, and they will return refreshed, but a little weary to remind us what the holidays are all about. About family. About hope. About a life so new and full of possibilities. Maybe I should find a place in my purse to carry these little figurines around so that I can be reminded on a daily basis how important these things are. Perhaps on the dashboard of the car as I rush here and there, so that I can hold the peace closer to my soul when I start to slip into bits of despair about a life spent running errands, and meeting obligations. A gerbil wheel that doesn't seem to rest.

But we all know what would happen then, don't we? We'd no longer see it. It would blend in to the dash, and grow dusty and neglected. Best if we bring it out once a year to recharge ourselves with its renewal. . . . So I'll store them away in their safe little haven and let them go about their merry way, while we go about ours.

The Thoughts I was Thinking Today

Early morning New Years walk on the trail at the bottom of our hill - beneath an arch of leafless branches, and many tall pines here and there reaching up to touch the sky - and my thoughts went like this....

Optimism is a kin to either foolhardiness or denial. We are optimistic that the atrocities of the past will not be repeated today - optimistic that we are better people, less evil, more humanitarian than our forefathers. We're optimistic that we'll learn from history - but we never do. We're no better or worse than them. We're human.

We live in our bubbles, feed our kids, arrange their swimming lessons, music lessons, drop them off at school on time, avoid the morning rush of cars in the school parking lot as we walk up the hill, hope that our kids won't fight at recess, or feel the crush of hurt feelings when they don't get their way, or that they have a good teacher who appreciates them,sees the good in them. We hope that cutbacks don't affect our jobs, and that we can continue the way of life we have been building for ourselves. These 'problems' are so little when you think of people living on the streets, unsure if they will make it through to the morning.

And what is it that has a roof over my head, but not on theirs? Optimism? Hope? Luck? Hard work? Fate? Why am I warm and dry with food in the cupboards and hot tea in my cup?

On our walk my husband was telling Kieran about how poor I was going to school, how I put myself through university and didn't have extra money to buy things that we have now. I told him about having to stand in the little grocery store with enough money for milk or bread, but not both. Having to make the choice, but still lucky that I had a choice. It's hard to explain to kids who have so much that there are children in the world, and in our own community who are not so "lucky".

And at the back of my head I'm always thinking, life can turn on a dime, so be grateful. Be grateful for all you have and be thankful that the problems you have are all you have to worry about.

And when I use the word we, I mean me. I don't want to speak for everyone in the little boat I travel in. This is my own reminder to bow with a certain grace to God and say I am grateful.