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Not THE change. Been there, done that. I've been hinting at a change for months now, and I don't want to leave you without a few words.
An enormous sea change has been washing onto my writer's shore all year, ever since Thanksgiving, when I sat down after a lovely family dinner, and made some decisions, wrote them down in my notebook, and have been consistently working toward them all year.
Going to the Philippines in March pushed me further along the tide of change. Surfing through the busiest travel spring I have ever had brought me fully onto shore.
I've been slowly disconnecting from the buzz of children's publishing and have found a haven in my own purple room, pink chair, house with the chartreuse trim, and all the stories that are waiting to be told. After ten years of constant travel and talk and dreaming, I'm directing my energies inward and becoming a full-time writer as much as I can, which means I've disconnected from most distractions, even the lovely ones.
Thank you, faithful readers. I've appreciated more than you know your presence in this space with me, and your notes of love and encouragement, and the sharing of struggles as well. I'm leaving this space for now, and the blog will go dark. I could spend lots of space and words telling you why, but the long-and-short is: I'm going to spend all my writing energy... writing.
The blog was a wonderful four-year experiment. I started it at Harcourt's urging when The Aurora County All-Stars was about to be published. I've watched it morph and change over the years. As the blog morphed, it became a personal scrapbook more than a book and writing blog, and I allowed that, to see where it was taking me... it became a way to tell stories, which is what I do.
So I am off to tell them, at the desk, or in the pink chair, on the page, in my heart, with that list of stories as long as my arm. That list! It's calling me. And I have been answering: yes. Yes. Yes.
I won't forget your many kindnesses to me. And... I'm here. I'm just one more step removed from the beautiful mayhem of the publishing world, and one step closer to discovering the heart of the stories I want to share. It's such a privilege to be able to do what I do for a living. I have appreciated every single step along the way. And I appreciate, likewise, this new day upon a new shore, as I take my first strong steps into a new life.
Peace to you, friends, and love. Always, love. xo Debbie
Best of luck in your fulltimeness! Does that mean you are disconnecting from children's writing, and moving to an adult audience---or only from the buzz? Whatever it turns out to be, I'll be watching for the results, while always remaining faithful and partial to my fave, Comfort Snowberger.
Thanks for all the encouragement you've given me over the last few years. It's a slow process. I'm learning much and getting closer. And many thanks for sharing the process through your blog.
I will miss your blog. You've made the writerly life seem so accessible and real.I guess you're opening yourself up to life "in all its messy glory," just like Uncle Edisto said. Best of luck to you, I'll hold Comfort in my heart forever. She is real to me. Best regards, Leslie W.
...all of New Orleans last week, posted here chronologically.They tell a story only I know, although you could write a fictional story using these photos, in this order. Or, mix up the order. Or, choose only ONE photo and write a story. Choose three. Which three would you choose? What stories could you tell?
5 Comments on twelve pretty pictures..., last added: 5/23/2011
Going back to earlier posts about handwork, I'd like to request you write a post about how to make clover/daisy necklaces. I am resting and writing at our vacation home in North Carolina and my yard is FULL of clover. (Clover necklaces = good memories!)
Cool tonight, and darkish at 5:30. One day home for me. After a meeting this morning and a lovely girls-lunch-out (with the newest little girl in attendance!) at Farmburger in Decatur, I returned home to get ready for tomorrow's travel.
But I didn't pack. Instead, I filled the coal hod twice with ashes from the last of the winter fires, swept the hearth, and lit a fire in the fireplace. It's May 17th, and I have a fire. In Atlanta. Cool.
I popped corn. I made Spanish coffee. I washed the grapes and sliced the cheese and found my favorite banana bread recipe in my favorite old cookbook.
And I contemplated the next project.
Thanks for all the great comments about hand work. Isn't it amazing how we gravitate to it, even in this electronic age. It soothes us. It centers us. It used to be essential for survival.
Maybe it still is.
Thanks to the wonderful teachers at S.L. Mason Elementary School in Valdosta, Georgia, for the fabulous work day yesterday, and special thanks to instructional lead teacher Tina Nunn, who worked with me for months to make the writing day come together for all of us.
And now... switching gears -- come see me tomorrow night, 6pm, May 18, at Octavia Books in New Orleans, where I'll be talking about and signing Countdown! I'll be at Page & Palette on Thursday night, May 19, in Fairhope, Alabama. I'm traveling with Charlie Young, Scholastic's Southern Sales Rep Extraordinaire. We're set to hit the road with sixties tunes and stories -- come with us.
More from the Big Easy. Stay warm tonight. Be as reasonable as I am; put whipped cream on top of your Spanish coffee.
2 Comments on coming up: travels with charlie, last added: 5/19/2011
Deborah, You are so very down-to-earth...which is why I love your blog. You enjoy simple pleasures and you share them with your reader, especially food photos (love em) I like that you are a "process" all about the journey person. Have a great time on the road.
What a lovely and kind thing to say, Leslie. Thank you. I'm going to try hard to remember your words when I get caught up in the frenetic day-to-day on the road! Hope you are well. xoxoxo
Got home from Tennessee travels late Friday night -- shout outs to my good friend Scot Smith, his colleagues, and all 7th graders who are working on a truly amazing Countdown project at Robertsville Middle School in Oak Ridge.
You'll be hearing more about this as we catalogue and archive and write up this project. How do we teach Countdown in the classroom? How does it reach into every corner of the new, national, Common Core standards? Stay tuned.
Thank yous as well to Jo Wilson and her team at Eaton Elementary in Lenoir City for an amazing hour with 3rd and 4th graders who have read the Aurora County trilogy and Freedom Summer, and to all teachers and students at Grandview School in Jonesborough, Tennessee, for a memorable teacher workshop day and another day with students in grades PRE-K through EIGHT. Whatta stretch. And it was good.
Got my hair cut yesterday. Talked with Vincent about working with our hands. I talk about this a lot lately. It's part of what I'm trying to put into words in my new novel, book two of the sixties trilogy, and into a new project I'm cooking up. Again, stay tuned. :>
I made a commitment this year to work more with my hands. I talk about it all the time in schools. I preach about it, actually, about how we have to use our notebooks (Totally paperless classrooms? Aiiieeeee! At our peril!), and keep teaching handwriting and cursive and drawing and doodling and pasting and cutting and taping and knitting and cooking and gardening and sweeping and painting...
I finished Abby's Tiramisu late yesterday afternoon. (Ravelry notes here.) As I wove the ribbon through the border spaces and watched the whole thing come together, finally, I was filled with the delight of "I made this! With my own two hands! And it's beautiful!" I love that feeling. The beauty lies in the process, in the effort, and also in the finishing.
It's like that with writing as well. I've been teaching lots of teachers this spring, and that's what we've been working with -- process, effort, finishing. This is the investment.
What a beautiful and fitting post on a cool, Sunday morning (at least, where I'm at!). I love doing "projects". I love making things and being creative. With two kiddos I don't feel like I do it quite as much as I used to and I miss it. My oldest is getting into the stage where he likes to string beads and paint so I'm hoping we'll be able to do more together. I have a crochet blanket I need to finish for him myself. Thanks for the reminder and the nudge and sharing your hand work!
I was at a conference last year where a speaker orated about the paperless classrooms and I cringed... I can't do without my physical notebook -- so much scrawling and doodling goes into it. I'm heavily influenced (lately, anyway) by this essay -- have you seen it?... http://www.themonthly.com/feature06-06.html
My Nana's hands were always busy, but my mother's...well, they weren't. So much is revealed through our handiwork, isn't it, or *sigh* the lack of same.
That tiramisu is darling & the soup sounds delicious...can't wait to hear what you're working on next!
Hey, Melodye and Mrs. Vincent... I'll bet you do more hand work than you realize. I'm thinking a lot about what "hand work" really means, especially in this electronic age. There is some sort of calming effect, some sort of brain/mind-hand connection. I don't think we get it through keyboarding, say, the way we get it through holding a pencil in our hands and making it form the shapes we will it to make. But that's just for starters...
Deborah~ I've been thinking about hand-work myself, for the reasons you've cited here, among others. My aha moments led me back to creative journaling (mixed media), horseback riding, and playing the tambourine! These activities invite a lot of tactile involvement, teach me more about what it means to be "in touch," and all that implies. :)
Yep. That's how it works... all that purposeful, tactile stuff. I want more of it in my life, and want to think about it mindfully. Loved your blog post about the Dalai Lama...
I love this Deborah! I'm totally a hands-on person. So was my mom and my grandmothers... love to keep those hands busy.
The paperless classroom scares me. I preach journaling to all ages. I've got over 5,400 pages in my journals now- they are more like scrapbooks... not just writing, but also doodling, drawing, pasting things in there, too.
Okay, think I'll go work on that crochet tunic on a very wet, cold Sunday in the San Juan islands. (at my cabin.) A fire in the woodstove in May, who would have thought that was necessary?
Oh, Deborah... you have hit on it: my hands on-do it-experimental self just jumped out at and absorbed everything you said. Yours is true creativity on all levels and comes naturally to you. You speak of change. This is a good revelation, a tribute to your consciousness and sensitivity. Go with that, my friend. There is something there & not quite known yet. Other elements will have the opportunity to fill in the unknown places for you. Love the journey & the doing! ~Mary Hamilton xxxxxxxxxxooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooxxoo
Mary, I wish I could play any musical instrument the way you do. Talk about hand work. I've got my hands on a dehydrator, though, and I want a flax cracker tutorial this summer, when I'm good and home! xoxo
I've been reading Countdown over the weekend and enjoying it so much. I feel like I'm getting to know my mother better, since she grew up in the 6os and has vivid memories of being scared Russia was going to attack. She was able to visit Russia the first time about a decade ago, and the family she visited gave her a painting right off the wall of their house, saying, "See? We're just people, like you." That painting hangs in her house now.
I love getting to know Franny.
Your handwork is beautiful as well! I will come back and visit your blog -- it's an inspiring place for writers and lovers of art!
What a lovely post. It helped ground me on my first day home after two weeks of travels that included the NESCBWI Conference.
I've had the same issue with chipped special glasses. I use them as vases, or rooting containers for plants, or to collect small things (buttons, change, and the like) on shelves.
It was my luck to have spring and summer babies. If I'd had them in fall and winter, I'd tell you that was my luck, too. It's good luck to have babies, no matter what season, no matter what age. And, this spring, my youngest babe turns 25. Yesterday was her birthday.
So of course we celebrated. Someone wrote her a song... years ago actually, but now it is recorded. And framed.
I wanted to include family who couldn't be with us on this day. If they'd had the chance, or if they were still living, they would have come to our little house to celebrate. Life is so short, isn't it?
So I pulled out the Trabuco Canyon honey I bought when we last visited Zach in California. I took the marmalade jar from its special spot -- it belonged to my mother-in-law for so long, and before that to her mother -- and filled it with confectioner's sugar. I put two sticks of butter into the butter dish that had been my grandmother's -- the real Miss Eula -- and imagined my father, as a boy, helping himself to some hand-churned butter from that dish.
I used the Georges Briard cake pedestal that Hannah and I found at our local antique store. I put a carrot cake on it, and frosted it with cream cheese frosting. My mother always wrote on our childhood birthday cakes, but I opted for big numbers for a big birthday, as I no longer have children at home living out their childhoods.
I did, however, buy butter pecan ice cream, which was my mother's favorite. Hannah had no preferences for this birthday meal or cake, which left me free to remember our collective past in calling up this meal and those who now loved or had loved us. I loved doing this.
You can see a bit of Albert Einstein, a painting by artist and friend Kate Fortin, in the chair behind the cake... not that Albert is a relative, but he's family of choice, I suppose, and certainly Kate is. You also can't see the family photos that grace the bookshelves, but they are there, lending their presence to the preparations.
So I set the table with the china my mother had given me. For flower vases, I used the blue bottles I had scavenged with Jason long ago.
Uncle Edisto's is my favorite line of all from Each Little Bird That Sings, not only because it is so true, but because it is so big-hearted and whole-hearted.
Finally feeling well-enough to venture into the kitchen. I found some broccoli, some cheese, eggs, dry milk. I plugged in the food processor and chopped, shredded, blended. Soon I shoved a quiche into the oven, rummaged a bit more, and found the fresh beets I'd also bought on the way home Tuesday last. Washed them and put them in a pot to boil.
Then I lighted three lovely candles, right in the kitchen. The smell of real food brought my husband into the kitchen smiling. I smiled back. "I feel better. You?" Yes. (I actually felt like that candle on the right in the picture below, a little tilty, but steady enough.)
When we left the table, we'd eaten our first real meal in a week. It made all the difference, inside and out. Today I'll leave the house for the first time in a week. I'm ready. My voice is still shot, but it's better every day.
Sometimes it good to just be still, in the middle of the quiet. Tomorrow is time enough to begin again. Be well, everyone. Be well.
24 little hours... ha. And wowee at the response to where should my new office space be and what should I do with it. Thanks so much. I heard the gamut of responses, too, which was heartening. Not everyone said: "Girl! Schedule an intervention! Do the Right Thing! Hire a professional organizer!" hahahaha. (Actually, this post was very helpful!)
So many of you remarked on my "treasures" that "tell a story." I had never thought about them that way, but you're right. I am conscious that I create "little altars everywhere," and that they comfort me. And I'm not sure I'll be able to create them in the same way, with this bedroom.
But I have bought some second-hand furniture for the living/dining room, you see. A buffet, a hutch, a chest of drawers for linens (no table yet). And so I am going to give it a try, here in this bedroom with my office, and see what happens.
Christmas is now totally put away. I only need worry about the papers still in boxes, as you can see, but that will entail a frosty afternoon in front of the fire or watching a movie, going through boxes. The room needs painting... any suggestions? I've already started collecting paint chips. I've got my friend Jim Williams coming this morning to look at lighting (that opening photo on his website is my kitchen!)-- I need a pretty ceiling light in that closet, and an outlet for a lamp, maybe. I need my bulletin board hung. I need to get rid of the wall ducks the previous owners left me. hee.
I've read about writers who are building their writing cottages on their property (and my friend Toni Buzzeo just posted a YouTube video about the construction of hers). I think they are lovely, and yet I think they are not for me. I want to be connected to the place where (as E.B. White put it) the household tides run the strongest. I want to be surrounded by stories, little altars that hold the memories, moments, and meanings that have shaped my life and my writing. If I need to get away from home with my writing, there are cafes that suit me -- Zen Tea is one. So I'll chronicle my progress in this new room and we'll see if it sticks.
Hey, you. Thanks so much for yesterday's comment as well. I will check your "cornbread." I'm also thinking of going with an earthy purple/brown... you'll be seeing it all, right here, you lucky duck. :> argh.
I've had several sweet emails asking me how I'm staying upright. Ha! Thanks for that. I'm always busy with travel to schools and conferences each fall, but this fall has been the busiest in my memory, as you can see from my September and October schedule, as I'm also on the road, promoting Countdown.
What helps with the craziness of the road warrior are the pockets of peacefulness I find in the midst of hard work. Like these cinnamon buns hand-made by my friend Robin Smith in Nashville.
... like this homemade breakfast conversation with new friends at Robin Smith's and Dean Schnieder's in Nashville during Southern Festival of Books. What a glorious break to have full-table conversation with such generous folks. Look hard and you'll see Dean at the head of the table followed by illustrator Shadra Strickland from Atlanta; Ellen Wittlinger; Shadra's brother Mark (aka Strick da Menace); Squire Babcock from Murray, Kentucky; Ellen's husband, David; Robin; Ellen's daughter, Kate Pritchard; and her brand-new husband, Mark Letcher. A lovely, sunshiny morning in Nashville.
What helps is driving home from Nashville, sleeping like the dead, then opening the refrigerator, rummaging, and pulling what's in it, out, and beginning the chop-wood-carry-water work of daily living. Boiling eggs. Sauteeing asparagus.
Found some carrots.
What helps is doing a mundane chore like tossing stuff out and cleaning the fridge.
What hel
0 Comments on what helps as of 10/17/2010 12:11:00 AM
It's a lovely, long weekend of authors and stories, at the Decatur Book Festival, right here in my backyard. So off I go -- come see me at 1pm on the Children's Stage, where I'll be discussing Countdown! My partner is Shelia Moses, who'll be talking about her new book, Joseph's Grace.
Last night, the festival opened with a reading and Q&A with Jonathan Franzen. He was thoughtful, gracious, and smart. Presser Hall at Agnes Scott College was packed. Today, the Square in Decatur is already buzzing with festival goers and authors and more... I'd better finish fortifying myself and begone!
Come see me!
1 Comments on breakfast of festival authors, last added: 9/7/2010
I blew in -- literally -- from Mississippi yesterday in time to attend the reception for "25 Books All Young Georgians Should Read" from The Georgia Center for the Book. Each Little Bird That Sings is on the debut list -- thrilling! I'm honored to be on this first-time list for young readers in Georgia, and to be in such great company. A few photos:
Me (very blown in! I literally stepped out of my car from Mississippi and into the restaurant) and Terra McVoy, who was manager of Little Shop of Stories in Decatur and is now assistant program director for the Decatur Book Festival -- it's next weekend, Labor Day weekend, on the Square, in Decatur -- I'll be speaking on Saturday, Sept. 4 at 2:30, but more on that later.
Terra's new book is After The Kiss, and she is also an honoree on this first debut list, with her lovely novel, Pure.
For Jim, on the occasion of our 3rd wedding anniversary, our 9th year in each other's orbit again, and the 40th anniversary of our introduction, in high school, in Charleston, South Carolina, waaaaay back in the sixties.
Here is a song written by John Sebastian, and sung by The Lovin' Spoonful in 1966, on the album "Hums of the Lovin' Spoonful." Other tunes on this album: "Summer in the City," and "Nashville Cats," both songs that could describe this summer in Hotlanta, and Jim's musical genius. There, I've said it. Jim is a musical genius. Good musical news is coming soon, but for today... happy anniversary, darlin' companion. Love, Debbie
Tomorrow I'll tell you where I am with the novel. Yesterday I got away to the North Georgia Mountains, and it was good. A few knick-knacks, some water, some music, an earnest cemetery, peaches and blackberries, but most of all, the funny, comfortable, sweet company of my true love and those soothing, rolling mountains that stand like ancient, silent sentries at the opposite end of the Blue Ridge chain that I left in Maryland six years ago.
Hey! Busy writing here. I'm popping in quickly to let you know that the Countdown playlist giveaway is still running -- you have until July 1 to go HERE and leave a comment so you can be entered for an iMix that will come directly to your iTunes account so you can hear the ENTIRE PLAYLIST -- 46 songs and other spoken word pieces from 1962 -- a fabulous companion to the novel, and a $45 value.
AND.... I've got tickets for my hubby's concert at Callanwolde! If you live in the Hotlanta area and want to come hear great jazz, come to Callanwolde on Friday, June 25 at 7:30. Bring a picnic and chairs or blanket, or join us and bring pot luck on the lawn.
Jim and his entire band -- Jim on piano and vocals and snappy repartee, Eric South on sax, Paul Fallat on drums and L.A. Tuten on bass -- will be under the stars to entertain you, and there will be CDs as well, Tickets are $15 online at Callanwolde before the event, and $20 at the door. Come out an support the arts in Atlanta, and hang with us for an evening of great entertainment.
I've got five tickets to give away on the blog or on facebook, to the first five responders. Let me know you're comin'!
That is all. I feel as if I've just written a commercial. Maybe I have. Love to all. And how are YOU? I want to know.
xoxoxo Debbie
1 Comments on all kinds of giveaways, last added: 6/16/2010
Of COURSE I will be out of town on the 25th - but PLEASE let us know when your hubby is playing out again in Atlanta, would love to come see him sometime!
They change us, these everyday moments, like airing the linens or making limeade. They enhance and make possible our momentous occasions as well. Along the way, we use all our senses to make connections with one another and our stories -- what do we see, hear, taste, touch, smell, in each moment? Yesterday, for instance....
Breakfast dishes drying:
Linens sunning themselves. Feel the breeze, taste the spring air. And listen to the stories:
The bedspread my daughter brought me from Greece, and the joy in her face at being so smart to know how I would love it. And there is her childhood kitty blanket she slept with for years. I would find her wrapped in it in odd hours, her hair smelling of fresh perspiration, her snores even and calm.
The quilt my mother's mother made by hand every stitch, from old shirts and dresses. I never knew this grandmother, but I remember the longing in my mother's voice when she said, "I never had a mother to help me raise my children..." and I would entreat my mother to tell me more about this grandmother I never knew.
The blanket I wrapped my first babe in. Oh how my heart pounded! Could I keep her alive? How tiny she was! How young I was! The first time she cried, I did, too.
The Freedom Summer quilt my friend Cindy made for me. What a celebration! My first book! Everyone came for a party. I saw that babe of mine walk into the room with her first babe, and felt we'd come full circle. Now I was a grandmother, like my mother's mother was never able to be.
The signatures of all those I met in my travels, that Freedom Summer year. (Did you sign this quilt?) So carefully did young readers sign their names. Some drew me pictures. Some gave me advice. Some congratulated me. How many airplanes did I carry that quilt on? It became a security blanket, as I made m
0 Comments on everyday history, momentous moments as of 1/1/1900
I flew home last night, finally, after three plane changes and many mechanical problems with Delta Airlines at LaGuardia. After years of trying to hang in there with Delta, I am itching to write an open letter to them, and maybe I will. In the meantime, the view out my window, from seat 41F, as the sun set, was a perfect coda to a long, busy, wonderful week.
I woke up this morning in my own bed. The sun is shining, the grass needs cutting, the house is topsy turvy -- two of my children are moving to various places, and boxes are everywhere, in a holding pattern. Courtesy of one of the relocators, we have inherited a sweet new kitty. Meet Shiva. She's getting acclimated. So are Gus and Cleebo. Now we become a three-cat family.
I met Pete on the plane yesterday. We were both bone weary by the time we found ourselves next to one another for the trip home. What do you see in this face?
I see the weariness of the long-distance, much delayed traveler, but there is more. Pete will be 74 on Wednesday. His brother died last week. Pete flew in for the funeral in Dobbs Ferry, NY, and was flying home to New Mexico when I met him. He is now the last member of his immediate family, a life-long bachelor and a cook extraordinaire, who, over the course of our long conversation, gave me his Italian family's secrets to spaghetti sauce.
Because of our flight delays, Pete missed his connection in Atlanta. I texted Jim when we landed, and he met us at the top of the escalator by baggage claim. "Hey, Pete!" he said, as they shook hands. Together we sat for a while at Houlihans with Pete, who would be staying at the nearby Comfort Inn overnight, courtesy of Delta Airlines, and flying home early this morning.
We drank our cranberry juice, while Pete sipped at his Johnny Walker Black on the rocks.
"You gonna be okay?" I asked him.
He smiled at me. "I just lost my brother," he said. "But I'm still here."
I woke up this morning thinking of Pete, winging home. "I'm still here," I said out loud. I thought of all the boxes in Irene, and all the children moving here and there, all the construction in the basement as we create the last finished space down there, and all the topsy-turviness of life. I'm still here. We are all still here.
The tiny Mississippi town I spent my childhood summers in was so small there was nothing to do but sit in the laundromat and watch the socks spin. I'm not sure Camp Springs, Maryland -- the setting for Countdown -- was any more bustling than that in the early sixties, when I lived there. But Decatur, Georgia bustles right along, and probably has many laundromats. This is the one we chose today.
Jim did his laundry here for twenty years. I did it for him once, after his dad died, in 2003. It brought back memories of the years I spent in laundromats, entertaining small children through the wash, rinse and spin, and toting the wet clothes home in a sheet so I could dry them on the line -- sunshine was free.
Today Jim and I are married and have a washer and dryer at home, but neither is working right now because of some construction work we've got going in the basement (yes, we're under construction again!) so we tootled back to the old laundromat stand by. It monsoon rained all day long, so we felt a little Robinson Crusoe-like (okay, *I* felt a little R.C.-like), braving the elements to Get Things Done.
Medlock Coin Laundry (bring a LOT of coins) is a bit like the Sunshine Laundry in The Aurora County All-Stars. They'll do your laundry for you, and you can pick it up later, or you can do it yourself. We did it ourselves. We got soaked dashing from the car to the laundromat, and the clothes got another good rinsing as we ran from the laundry to the car. Sheesh.
But now I am ready for Chicago and New York City. Even if you don't see me, you've seen a chunk of my wardrobe. Also, while I'm at it, I think I need one of those wheely cart things. I think we all need one. Very handy.
Sunshine Laundry - Send us your sheets! Under new management! We can't be beat!
Time for sleeping. There's nuthin' like sleeping long and deep when the clothes are clean, the night has come, and the rain thrums hard on the roof, washing the whole sweet earth.
It takes a mighty big incentive to get me to leave home this time of year. A working writer who wants to make her living in the arts -- that's a big incentive. So is the promise of good work, the certainty of learning, and the likelihood of making new friends. And always, there are stories...
Wait for me, Spring! Don't finish blooming before I'm back! I'm home Wed. night, back out again Friday. I've got my 1966 girls with me.
March/April and October/November are the busiest travel times of the year for a working writer who teaches personal narrative writing in schools. I was in Knoxville and Oak Ridge, Tennessee last week, and am heading to Mississippi tomorrow.
More on my wonderful Tennessee friends soon. What I want to remember today, because it's easy to forget it while in the midst of the swirl, is all the life that's being led in between travels.
2 Comments on time to remember..., last added: 3/29/2010
I do believe we ARE soul sisters, and yes, those are lima beans! Hang in there this spring, and I will, too. It's good work, eh? I feel lucky to have it. xo
Once a month, at Irene and David's, a kind of free-for-all: Characters ebb and flow throughout the afternoon. Tunes come and go.
Exposition is woven in.Surprising connections are discovered.Sometimes, even brand-new characters.Or a whole-new subplot.A left turn is tossed in.A tough patch is negotiated.
Home, home, home. Home to ARCs of Countdown -- so lovely! Home to sleeping like the dead, reconnecting with family, and comfort food. This time I added a sorghum and melted butter drizzle to the mix, sprinkled everything liberally with kosher salt and cracked pepper, added a half-cup of water, and slipped it all into the oven. I set a pot of grains to gently boil -- brown and wild rices, millet, barley, and some French lentils. Now for a bath while my dinner cooks.
After my soak in the deep tub, I will be more human. I'll sit and savor this gorgeous galley, listen to my daughter's entertaining stories o
0 Comments on first things first as of 2/27/2010 2:54:00 PM
So I didn't bring the camera with me Saturday before last, when we attended a house party and were mightily entertained by the Hotlanta Dixieland Trio, all friends who have played with Jim. I didn't bring it the next afternoon, when Jim gigged at the first jazz jam in our neighbor's living room. Players were on keyboard, banjo, guitar, upright bass, clarinet, mandolin, balalaika, and the original instrument: voice.
I dearly wished I'd had my camera, so I could share with you that experience. Folk tunes, jazz standards, Russian gypsy songs, Yiddish favorites, ragtime, and Dixieland - I took my knitting but couldn't tear my eyes off the scene in front of me. It was so good to be with friends, surrounded by music. I didn't bring the camera to Panama City, Florida this past Friday, either. Five hundred enthusiastic classroom teachers, grades K through 12, attended the Bay Area Reading Association's annual conference, and I got to open the day with a talk about books and reading, family and community. It was an exhilarating experience to stand in front of such a dedicated, amazing bunch (some called themselves "the amen chorus"!) and share stories.
I got to talk about Countdown, too -- and what a great place to tell all about this story, as in 1962, kids in Florida were ducking and covering under their desks as well. There are many air force bases in Florida, not to mention NASA and Cape Canaveral, and the little detail that the tip of Florida is a mere 90 miles off the coast of Cuba. Boy, did I hear stories, all day long.
The best part of the day was working again with Houghton-Mifflin-Harcourt's Ronda Baggett, and meeting her daughter, Hannah, who was in the middle of reading Each Little Bird That Sings. She stayed with us for half the day, until her father came to get her at lunch.
"Are you ready?" asked her father, with a wide smile. Hannah said no -- she didn't want to go. Her mother said, "But, honey, you're going to see Avatar! Don't you want to see the movie?" Hannah looked at me and shook her head. I hugged her, thanked her, and promised her she would love the movie more than she loves me. haha! But ain't it wonderful? You know you've arrived, when a ten-year-old would rather hang out with you while you sign books, than go to the movies with Dad and see James Cameron's latest blockbuster. Whoo-hoo! What a sweetie. Jim picked me up from the airport on Saturday night, and we spent Sunday in front of the fire. S
2 Comments on on the road again, last added: 2/2/2010
Ha! It's Hannah who is remarkable, don't you think? And she has a remarkable mother as well. Thanks for everything this past weekend -- what fun, and what good work. Hug Hannah for me.
Happy New Year, y'all. Here's a look at 2009 from the One Pom archives with a few surprises thrown in for good measure. I believe blogger is only importing half the photos here on the One Pomegranate website, for some reason, but you can see all the photos in all their picnik slide-show glory (and many of you are there!), here.
I can't wade into the new year without saying thanks to all those I partnered with this year in learning and teaching; thank you for your students and for the instructional time.
Thanks to those who welcomed me home when each journey was over. As you can see, homecoming was always so sweet, and what comes home to me as I look at these photos is the juxtaposition between home and away, and how each holds its gifts. I'm so glad for that.
Thanks to booksellers who opened their arms to me, literally, during the Shoestring Tour, and who continue to shepherd my books so lovingly. Thanks to publishers who support my work, and to readers everywhere who make it possible for me to keep writing. Thanks to Scholastic for providing me a platform from which to tell three stories of the 1960s for young readers. I hope to do you proud in 2010 when COUNTDOWN is published.
Thanks ever-so-much to you all for making 2009 a truly remarkable year. Thank you for hanging out with me in this online space as well, and for sharing your thoughts, your hearts, your stories. What an inspiration you are to me.
Many years ago, a lifetime ago, we cut down our Christmas tree as a family. It was a gigantic thing, too big to fit into our home, and we loved it. It was always white pine. We cut off the top, we cut off the bottom, we tethered it to the wall using guy wires (our version), and we decorated it with abandon -- popcorn strings, cranberries, birds' nests, pine cones, saved ribbons and bows, and all the ornaments of a long family life journey. Those trees are legend. One Christmas future I will dig out photos of them and share. You won't believe it. They took up the entire wall of the living room, and the whole house smelled of them. Neighbors came to see how big they were. Kids envied them and told their parents they wanted one. We were (affectionately) called crazy, and we didn't mind. When I moved to Atlanta and began a new life and new traditions, I didn't have a house that would contain such a tree and I had little enthusiasm about cutting down a small one or toting one home. My friend Kay arrived at Christmas and insisted that I needed a fake tree I could haul out year after year, and we duly purchased one at a K-Mart that year, fully lighted and ready to be plugged in.
I was underwhelmed. Still, I put it up, and I kept that tree for five years. But I couldn't help it; I felt cheated. Then I found this tree by the side of the road in Virginia Highlands in November. A nice young man was selling various iron things, and sold me this seven-foot bird feeder. It's massive, as bird feeders go. But I knew just what to do with it. I put a candle in the space where the bird seed goes. I draped wooden cranberries from the branches. And I set about creating a space for the memories of a lifetime, the stories of our family; a place of honor to celebrate our ups and downs, our scars and triumphs, and to remember.
6 Comments on seeing christmas, last added: 12/21/2009
I recognize a few ornmaments on that tree, because I have some just like it on my present tree. The bells and the little red one that resembles an upside down pinecone. They are from my childhood as well. Nothing like the tree to send us down memory lane.
I think it's more about the feelings the 'tree' invokes in the people who surround it than what it actually looks like. I'm certain your tree invokes the best of Christmas magic and it looks fabulous too. Maureen. www.thepizzagang.com
Yes, it's exactly that, Maureen -- the feelings the tree evokes. The fake tree we had for five years felt just that -- fake. And yet, this bird feeder feels somehow more real. Maybe it's because I chose it myself, and turned it into a little altar of memories. Maybe it was just time.
I love that pinecone ornament, Sandy.
And thanks, Catherine, for the cozy comment -- isn't it interesting how something made of old iron can still be cozied up? Gives me hope...
So she called, my daughter (the miracle of cell phones), from her car, right off Main Street in our little town of Tucker, Georgia, and shouted: "A camel! There's a camel!"
I was baking cookies, directing operations like I was Patton and the ingredients were Third Army. "What?"
"There's a live nativity right here in downtown Tucker! Right now! And they've got a live camel!" "Really?" I pulled a tray of jam thumbprints out of the oven. "Are you sure?"
"I drove by twice! It's a camel, and there's a donkey and sheep and goats! Across from the post office!" Her tone of voice said what are you doing still sitting there?
"I don't think I can leave my cookies," I said. My feet hurt. I was tired. There was still the clean up to do.
She hung up, excited. And I, for some reason, thought about my Aunt Beth telling me the story of the medicine show coming to town when she was a little girl living in a tiny town in Mississippi much like my tiny Georgia town. It was miraculous, she said. Entire families gathered in the Oak Grove to be entertained in those Depression years. The side of the medicine man's wagon dropped down to make a stage. A magician, a singer, maybe an accordian player and a dancer entertained the eager, excited crowd. In the spaces between acts, the barker sold his miracle elixir, guaranteed to cure whatever ailed you. The Prices always bought two bottles. They were healthy and very happy.
Today we have cell phones and zippy little cars and thousands of sophisticated cookie recipes to make. A camel coming to town just isn't all that exciting.... or is it?
I wiped my hands on my dish towel. "Jim! Want to go see a camel? There's a camel in downtown Tucker right now!" We take our miracles where we can find them. I'm awfully glad for all of mine this night.
Here it is. Thanks so much for all your opinions. We've got the mechanicals! I'm reproducing them here, but keep in mind that the color is a bit washed out in these photos -- the final product will be deep and rich and layered and... all that jazz. :> When you open the CD package, this will be inside the front cover: This will be opposite it, inside the back cover, and under the cd tray: This is the back cover: And -- ta da!
The front cover:
We loved all your input, and we can't wait to hold the actual CD in our hands. It's the best yet, full of surprises and outstanding jazz compositions played by world-class musicians... we're thrilled to be THIS CLOSE to release!
January. That's when you can get hold of your own copy. Details to come about a CD release party/concert for Jim Pearce's latest masterpiece, coming to a theater near you, especially if you live in Atlanta. Thanks, all, for your enthusiasm and support!
0 Comments on the mechanicals are here as of 1/1/1900
6 Comments on seeing christmas, last added: 12/21/2009
Best of luck in your fulltimeness! Does that mean you are disconnecting from children's writing, and moving to an adult audience---or only from the buzz? Whatever it turns out to be, I'll be watching for the results, while always remaining faithful and partial to my fave, Comfort Snowberger.
Thanks for all the encouragement you've given me over the last few years. It's a slow process. I'm learning much and getting closer. And many thanks for sharing the process through your blog.
I will miss your blog. You've made the writerly life seem so accessible and real.I guess you're opening yourself up to life "in all its messy glory," just like Uncle Edisto said. Best of luck to you, I'll hold Comfort in my heart forever. She is real to me.
Best regards,
Leslie W.