Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Reading & Writing by Candlelight: Interview & Book Giveaway with Author Becky Levine!
Wondering if you're in the right critigue group? Don't miss this excellent interview with Becky Levine, the author of The Writing & Critigue Group Survival Guide. Reading & Writing by Candlelight: Interview & Book Giveaway with Author Becky Levine!
Monday, August 09, 2010
Free Online Kidlit Conference August 10
Say what? A free online kidlit conference? It's true. Check out this link to WriteOnCon for more info. The schedule is impressive. So is the list of agents and editors who will be in attendance. Better yet you can attend from the comfort of your own home in your pjs.
Butt in Chair--How I Fight for It and Win
I didn't realize how good I had it when pursuing my Vermont College MFA. Back then, there was no need to fight for my butt in chair time. I wrote for hours at a time, often immersing myself so far into my story that I learned to set the alarm so I didn't forget to pick up my girls from school.
These days, I consider it a good day if I write two pages. Yep, you read it right. I do a happy dance after writing two pages. I learned the practice from my third semester VC advisor Jane Resh Thomas.
The day Jane recommended the concept, I remember thinking, "Two pages? That's all?" Now that VC is behind me, and life's "little" interruptions have crept into my writing time, I understand the wisdom of the practice.
1. Two pages a day is realistic and achievable. I can imagine sitting my butt in chair long enough to make it happen. I can envision getting up early enough in the morning to do it, or carving out writing time while waiting for E to finish her therapy. Expect a higher page count and the idea would overwhelm, making it much more difficult to find enough uninterrupted time to meet my quota.
2. Two pages is just far enough into my story to keep my characters close to the surface so that when I sit butt in chair for the day, they're ready to work and play. Stay away too long, and they're less cooperative and often crabby. Another incentive to write each day.
2. Two pages a day isn't gridlock. Or giving up. It's forward progress. And it's measurable. Think about it. Two pages times 30 days is 60 some pages in a month. Sixty pages times six months is a children's novel! My life is filled with things I can't control. My two pages a day quota is one area I can affect. Seeing forward progress is a huge incentive to schedule butt in chair time daily.
3. Two pages a day feeds my muse and muzzles the mugwump, making me a happier and more effective mom, wife, advocate, health care manager, cook, chauffeur, etc.
4. Two pages is the target, but it's not written in stone. If I write more that day, I celebrate. If I write less--or nothing at all--I don't beat myself up. It's part of the process.
The goal is to keep moving forward. As long as I keep an eye on the horizon and never stray far from my chair, I'm honoring my story and myself two pages a day.
These days, I consider it a good day if I write two pages. Yep, you read it right. I do a happy dance after writing two pages. I learned the practice from my third semester VC advisor Jane Resh Thomas.
The day Jane recommended the concept, I remember thinking, "Two pages? That's all?" Now that VC is behind me, and life's "little" interruptions have crept into my writing time, I understand the wisdom of the practice.
1. Two pages a day is realistic and achievable. I can imagine sitting my butt in chair long enough to make it happen. I can envision getting up early enough in the morning to do it, or carving out writing time while waiting for E to finish her therapy. Expect a higher page count and the idea would overwhelm, making it much more difficult to find enough uninterrupted time to meet my quota.
2. Two pages is just far enough into my story to keep my characters close to the surface so that when I sit butt in chair for the day, they're ready to work and play. Stay away too long, and they're less cooperative and often crabby. Another incentive to write each day.
2. Two pages a day isn't gridlock. Or giving up. It's forward progress. And it's measurable. Think about it. Two pages times 30 days is 60 some pages in a month. Sixty pages times six months is a children's novel! My life is filled with things I can't control. My two pages a day quota is one area I can affect. Seeing forward progress is a huge incentive to schedule butt in chair time daily.
3. Two pages a day feeds my muse and muzzles the mugwump, making me a happier and more effective mom, wife, advocate, health care manager, cook, chauffeur, etc.
4. Two pages is the target, but it's not written in stone. If I write more that day, I celebrate. If I write less--or nothing at all--I don't beat myself up. It's part of the process.
The goal is to keep moving forward. As long as I keep an eye on the horizon and never stray far from my chair, I'm honoring my story and myself two pages a day.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Fighting for My Writer's Life, Part I
My trip to the Vermont College mini residency mid last month was awesome, inspiring, invigorating. In the wake of the long weekend, I've been thinking a lot lately about writing, the creative process, my process, and what makes a successful writer.
Take, for example, the act of sitting butt in chair for the hard work of writing. While listening to lectures and readings by Tobin Anderson, Gregory Maguire, Holly Black, Tim Wynne-Jones, Franny Billingsley, Sharon Darrow, Kathi Appelt, Jacqueline Woodson, Coe Booth, and more, it was so easy to imagine immersing myself in my work-in-progress for weeks at a time.
Then I returned home.
Vermont College weaves a wondrous spell during its residencies. You get to immerse yourself in the craft while someone else cooks, someone else arranges your schedule, someone else worries about where the kids need to go, wear, eat, etc. But let's face it. Unless you have a wife, the life of a writer outside of the VC bubble is less idyllic and a lot more complicated.
I'd love the luxury of wearing my writer's hat full time. I can't. I'm a writer mom of three girls, two with special needs. On any given day, I've been known to wear multiple hats at once: mom, personal assistant, medical coordinator, educational advocate, disabilities advocate, cook, chauffeur. Some days, there's no room for my writer's hat, no matter how hard I try to keep it on.
I'm not saying this to complain. I sharing this in hopes of giving perspective to fellow writers who may be feeling the same way I do; who worry that they'll never finish their projects; who fret that they'll never find an agent, editor, fill in the blank; who look at their growing to-do lists and the people and things that keep them from sitting butt in chair, and wonder why they even try.
More often than not, the simple act of sitting butt in chair for the hard work of writing is anything but simple. But fresh from VC, I'm inspired to fight for my time in that chair.
So today marks the first in a series of posts about my writing process, what works for me, and how I'm fighting for my writer's life.
Next time: Butt in chair time. How I fight for it and win.
Take, for example, the act of sitting butt in chair for the hard work of writing. While listening to lectures and readings by Tobin Anderson, Gregory Maguire, Holly Black, Tim Wynne-Jones, Franny Billingsley, Sharon Darrow, Kathi Appelt, Jacqueline Woodson, Coe Booth, and more, it was so easy to imagine immersing myself in my work-in-progress for weeks at a time.
Then I returned home.
Vermont College weaves a wondrous spell during its residencies. You get to immerse yourself in the craft while someone else cooks, someone else arranges your schedule, someone else worries about where the kids need to go, wear, eat, etc. But let's face it. Unless you have a wife, the life of a writer outside of the VC bubble is less idyllic and a lot more complicated.
I'd love the luxury of wearing my writer's hat full time. I can't. I'm a writer mom of three girls, two with special needs. On any given day, I've been known to wear multiple hats at once: mom, personal assistant, medical coordinator, educational advocate, disabilities advocate, cook, chauffeur. Some days, there's no room for my writer's hat, no matter how hard I try to keep it on.
I'm not saying this to complain. I sharing this in hopes of giving perspective to fellow writers who may be feeling the same way I do; who worry that they'll never finish their projects; who fret that they'll never find an agent, editor, fill in the blank; who look at their growing to-do lists and the people and things that keep them from sitting butt in chair, and wonder why they even try.
More often than not, the simple act of sitting butt in chair for the hard work of writing is anything but simple. But fresh from VC, I'm inspired to fight for my time in that chair.
So today marks the first in a series of posts about my writing process, what works for me, and how I'm fighting for my writer's life.
Next time: Butt in chair time. How I fight for it and win.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Amusing the Muse, Refilling the Well
All writers need inspiration. My family is mine. And so are the experiences we share together. Our recent trip to Nashville was no exception. Just a few of the things my muse is amused about:
1. E has a twin. Doesn't matter that A is younger than E by 6 years. Doesn't matter that they live in different states. The two look so much alike that people were calling them by the wrong name all week. It was a hoot, and, to E, must have looked as if she were staring at herself in a mirror. They have the same nose. Same silky black hair. Same almond eyes. Same attitude and sense of humor. When the two met for the first time, E stared at A for a few beats then declared, "We-ell, she has different glasses than me."
2. Nashville serves a mean pulled pork sandwich. We discovered this our first night there. We ate at a place called Jack's Barbecue, a hole in the wall located along Broadway in the heart of the entertainment district. It was 9:30 at night by the time we went out looking for dinner, but the town was hopping. The sidewalks teamed with people sightseeing, shopping and hopping from one nightspot to the next. Band's played in store front windows. Music poured out into the street. At Jack's, we waited in a line 20 some people deep to get our family-style meal of pulled pork sandwiches, mac n cheese and beans. The meal blew my Weight Watchers points for the day, but it was SO worth it.
3. Little People of America LPs know how to party. In addition to back to back programming all day, there was a dance every night. We wore our dancing shoes every night we could. The dances didn't start until 10, but that didn't stop E and S from going strong. Can you say power naps?
4. E participated in the talent show. Her act: she spoke to the crowd of 2,500 strong about her service dog Jewel. Hubby P accompanied E, serving as a kind of interviewer to help get her started and keep her on track. They both did an amazing job.
5. S learned how fun it is to play elevator tag in a 30+ story hotel.
6. P & I relived our BC (before children) days by stopping at Mammoth Cave on the way home to do some caving. The decision was totally spontaneous, which was a breakthrough for us. We haven't been that kind of spontaneous since before E got so sick. As you might imagine, few caves are handicapped accessible. So, P, bless his heart, carried down the trail to the cave entrance. And then he carried her 80 steps down into the cave and 80 steps back up again when we were done. E loved it. S did, too, after she realized that the bats and other cave critters were more scared of us than she was of them.
7. Our glasses fogged up after we left the cave.
8. I need a vacation from the vacation but will need to hold off until after my Alumni Mini Residency at Vermont College. In addition to the editors and agents who will be there, Fantasy Day guest speakers include Holly Black and Gregory Maguire. I leave Thursday, and have to say I'm seriously looking forward to refilling the well.
1. E has a twin. Doesn't matter that A is younger than E by 6 years. Doesn't matter that they live in different states. The two look so much alike that people were calling them by the wrong name all week. It was a hoot, and, to E, must have looked as if she were staring at herself in a mirror. They have the same nose. Same silky black hair. Same almond eyes. Same attitude and sense of humor. When the two met for the first time, E stared at A for a few beats then declared, "We-ell, she has different glasses than me."
2. Nashville serves a mean pulled pork sandwich. We discovered this our first night there. We ate at a place called Jack's Barbecue, a hole in the wall located along Broadway in the heart of the entertainment district. It was 9:30 at night by the time we went out looking for dinner, but the town was hopping. The sidewalks teamed with people sightseeing, shopping and hopping from one nightspot to the next. Band's played in store front windows. Music poured out into the street. At Jack's, we waited in a line 20 some people deep to get our family-style meal of pulled pork sandwiches, mac n cheese and beans. The meal blew my Weight Watchers points for the day, but it was SO worth it.
3. Little People of America LPs know how to party. In addition to back to back programming all day, there was a dance every night. We wore our dancing shoes every night we could. The dances didn't start until 10, but that didn't stop E and S from going strong. Can you say power naps?
4. E participated in the talent show. Her act: she spoke to the crowd of 2,500 strong about her service dog Jewel. Hubby P accompanied E, serving as a kind of interviewer to help get her started and keep her on track. They both did an amazing job.
5. S learned how fun it is to play elevator tag in a 30+ story hotel.
6. P & I relived our BC (before children) days by stopping at Mammoth Cave on the way home to do some caving. The decision was totally spontaneous, which was a breakthrough for us. We haven't been that kind of spontaneous since before E got so sick. As you might imagine, few caves are handicapped accessible. So, P, bless his heart, carried down the trail to the cave entrance. And then he carried her 80 steps down into the cave and 80 steps back up again when we were done. E loved it. S did, too, after she realized that the bats and other cave critters were more scared of us than she was of them.
7. Our glasses fogged up after we left the cave.
8. I need a vacation from the vacation but will need to hold off until after my Alumni Mini Residency at Vermont College. In addition to the editors and agents who will be there, Fantasy Day guest speakers include Holly Black and Gregory Maguire. I leave Thursday, and have to say I'm seriously looking forward to refilling the well.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Dancing Shoes, Little Red Suitcases, and the Courage to Write
We're heading to Nashville soon for the National Little People of America Conference. My little red suitcase is nearly filled. It's waiting on the bed for a few last-minutes necessities...my toothbrush, my slippers, my journal, a book, and notes for a new project.
It's a story I began years ago while studying for my MFA from Vermont College, but I didn't pursue because I didn't have the courage to write it. Now, it seems, my muse is ready to face that dark attic; so, in the notebook will go. Then it's down to the kitchen to finish gathering up the rest.
On the to-do list there:
1. Mobile medicine cabinet and equipment--some of it for P & I, most of it for E who requires round the clock meds and monitoring for various conditions.
2. Portable pantry and cooler--again, most of it for E, whose sodium-restricted diet (she can have 1000 mg or less a day) requires MAJOR creativity on the road.
3. Service dog gear--for E's service dog Jewel. Food, check. Bowls, check. Leash and a couple toys, check, check. And, lots of baggies for poop patrol.
4. Dancing shoes--The conference will include meetings with physicians who specialize in E's form of dwarfism. We'll also hear from people on the cutting edge of research on primordial dwarfism. There will also be frank talk with physicians and families about the sobering prognosis for anyone with this form of dwarfism.
The hard reality is none of the boys have lived past twenty and less than a handful of girls have lived to 25. E is 18. I imagine if any one of the parents in our group stopped long enough to think through the short time God has loaned us our children, we'd find it hard to get anything done. Which is why we need the dancing shoes.
There's a dance at the convention each night. The girls have packed a dress for every one of them.
And we've all packed our dancing shoes.
It's a story I began years ago while studying for my MFA from Vermont College, but I didn't pursue because I didn't have the courage to write it. Now, it seems, my muse is ready to face that dark attic; so, in the notebook will go. Then it's down to the kitchen to finish gathering up the rest.
On the to-do list there:
1. Mobile medicine cabinet and equipment--some of it for P & I, most of it for E who requires round the clock meds and monitoring for various conditions.
2. Portable pantry and cooler--again, most of it for E, whose sodium-restricted diet (she can have 1000 mg or less a day) requires MAJOR creativity on the road.
3. Service dog gear--for E's service dog Jewel. Food, check. Bowls, check. Leash and a couple toys, check, check. And, lots of baggies for poop patrol.
4. Dancing shoes--The conference will include meetings with physicians who specialize in E's form of dwarfism. We'll also hear from people on the cutting edge of research on primordial dwarfism. There will also be frank talk with physicians and families about the sobering prognosis for anyone with this form of dwarfism.
The hard reality is none of the boys have lived past twenty and less than a handful of girls have lived to 25. E is 18. I imagine if any one of the parents in our group stopped long enough to think through the short time God has loaned us our children, we'd find it hard to get anything done. Which is why we need the dancing shoes.
There's a dance at the convention each night. The girls have packed a dress for every one of them.
And we've all packed our dancing shoes.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Summer daze. Summer Craze.
This week at our house:
1. S begins her second week of Fresh Start, a fantabulous get-to-know you orientation for all incoming Freshman. She was leery of doing it at first. But after the first day she raved about it. For a child who struggles with expressive speech, this was huge, and a sigh of relief for me.
2. E continues her second week of summer school. On-going health issues require a later start time, and jockeying of my work schedule. But seeing how excited E gets each morning about this new location and program makes the hassles worth it.
L winds up her trip to Italy. What an awesome opportunity for her to be able to go along with a friend. L called yesterday to wish P a happy Father's Day. She made his day. She's in Florence today and tomorrow and returns Wednesday. As of yesterday she'd taken more than 700 pictures, 100 in Pompeii alone.
3. I continue wearing multiple hats at once. I've been unable to put down the Advocacy hat. It's been needed for both E and S as we tie up loose ends from last school year and set the right tone for this summer. I'm wearing my teaching author hat, too. Friday is the second in the Teen Writers Summer Series. Jenn and I have prep to do between now and then. Writer's hat? Um, yeah. I'm wearing it. And I've been doing lots of prewriting stuff, making notes and whatnot, but I need to carve out actual butt in chair time. Does this post count? I'd like to say if it keeps the brain matter moving, yes.
I'm also wearing my read-like-a-writer hat so I can begin wading through the books I need to read prior to alumni mini residency at Vermont College next month.
Mini rez didn't make my radar until last week. Or to be honest I didn't let it make my radar because with E's health the way it is the last year it's been a lot easier--and more realistic--not to make plans. I owe my hubby big time for buying down the cost of hotel and air travel with frequent flier miles, and, more importantly, for giving me the push to go.
It's only been a few days since I officially registered for mini rez. But the more I prepare for it, the more I realize how much of myself I've lost in E's care giving in recent months, and how crucial it is to refill the well.
Current read: Undead Much? by Stacey Jay. Amusing so far with a strong voice and sassy heroine. I like.
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