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Here are some literary events to pencil in your calendar this week.

To get your event posted on our calendar, visit our Facebook Your Literary Event page. Please post your event at least one week prior to its date.

Children’s author Maureen Kanefield will appear at the University Avenue Discovery Center to deliver a reading. See her on Monday, November 24th starting 3 p.m. (Madison, WI)

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I spent much of last week in the company of YoungArts writers whose stories and words were so full of the fearless, so unbroken by other people's ideas of what story and language might be, that there was no way in hell I was going to read an ordinary book on the way home. Not that I seek out the ordinary, ever. But sometimes I get stuck with it, and I get rankled through.

So I went to Books & Books while the YoungArtists were listening to people like Joshua Bell and Bill T. Jones and Adrian Grenier and Debbie Allen talk (oh, my), because I knew I could rely on a famous independent to cut the deck of new releases right.  And there, on the front table, I found The Colour of Milk, by Nell Leyshon.  I had never heard of it or her, but because I am forever milking my own metaphors, I was intrigued.  Read the first two lines.  Bought it.  Finished it on the flight home.  Held it to my chest—this riveting, fierce, enveloping, and I-know-you-want-to know-what-it-is-actually-about book, so let me explain that in a line or two.  The Colour of Milk is the story of a girl in the year 1831 who has learned literacy, but at a terrible price.  Milk is her story, her confession.  Milk will break your heart. 

Let me show you how it starts:

this is my book and i am writing it by my own hand.

in this year of lord eighteen hundred and thirty one I am reached the age of fifteen and i am sitting by my window and i can see many things.  i can see birds and they fill the sky with their cries.  i can see the trees and i can see the leaves.

and each leaf has veins which run down it.

and the bark of each tree has cracks.

i am not very tall and my hair is the colour of milk.

my name is mary and i have learned to spell it.  m.a.r.y.  that is how you letter it.

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This year the National YoungArts Foundation received some 10,000 applications for its extraordinary program celebrating emerging artists in the visual, literary, and performing arts fields.  The teen finalists—152 of them—are now just a few weeks away from participating in YoungArts Week in Miami, a program designed to celebrate their talents, to extend their reach, and to engage them in conversation and exercises that will hopefully shape their way of seeing and doing for years to come.

As the Master Teacher for the 24 young writers who were selected for the program (writing being just one of nine celebrated disciplines), I am blessed.  I'll be teaching in the city's botanical gardens.  I'll be asking the students to come prepared with a brief autobiography of their hair, a declaration about the books that have changed their perception of both story and language, and a photograph of themselves that firmly divides a Before from an After.  We'll explore the garden in search of telling details, weatherscapes, and invisible, essential forces.  We will write bird song and water rush.  We will assimilate and empathize.

I am eager to meet the young writers. I am eager to learn from the program's other master teachers and presenters—Marisa Tomei, Bobby McFerrin, Bill T. Jones, Debbie Allen, Joshua Bell, and Adrian Grenier, among others.  I am eager to spend some time in Miami.

But first things first.  Today I officially welcome my students, who will be arriving from San Francisco, Birmingham, Holladay, Boonton, and all manner of places in between.

Congratulations, and welcome:

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On this very beautiful Philadelphia day (blue-drenched skies and clouds a-wisp in both directions), I share news that I've wanted to share for the past many days.  Amy Rennert, my long-time agent, is the one who whispered this in my ear.  I have her to thank for bridging me toward that very thing that makes me happiest in life—hanging out with urgent, passionate, striving kids and helping them grow.

So here we go.  This coming January, I will be joining the glorious YoungArts program in Miami—"the signature national organization that recognizes and supports America's most talented 15-18 year olds in the visual, literary and performing arts."  Do you want to fill this very hour with beautiful things (music, HBO film, photography, stories)?  Then go to the YoungArts website, grab a root beer or a cup of tea, and sit back. Just let it happen.

Since 1981, YoungArts has given young people from across the country the chance to learn from giants such as Edward Albee, Robert Redford, Julian Schnabel, Michael Tilson Thomas, Bobby McFerrin, Frank Gehry, Placido Domingo, Liv Ullman, and Kathleen Turner.  It has helped nurture stars such as Viola Davis, Elizabeth Kostova, Allegra Goodman, Nicki Minaj, and Vanessa Williams.  It has elevated culture.  It has made people dance.  It has mattered. 

And you, my young friends out there—you still have a chance to apply.  Applications for this could-it-be-any-better-than-this? opportunity can be filed up through October 19, 2012.  Those who are selected—in nine disciplines—are eligible for the week-long immersion in the arts (Miami, early January), for U.S. Presidential Scholar in the Arts recognition, and for monetary awards. 

This year, I will be teaching writing to high school students in a botanical garden.  Over the course of that same week, Marisa Tomei, one of my favorite actresses (did you see her in "The Wrestler?"; don't you just love her whole, authentic self?), Bill T. Jones, that sensational choreographer and teacher, and Lourdes Lopez, recently named the artistic director of the Miami City Ballet, will be conducting Master Classes as well.  The evenings will be filled with performances.  A gala dinner will be held.  And I will be there, happy.

My young talented friends, consider applying.  Amy Rennert, thank you.  And Lisa Leone, the real Lisa Leone (vice president of Artistic Programs), you are one talented photo/movement-goddess.  I encourage those reading my blog to visit The Real Lisa Leone and to discover, among many fine finds, a certain Marisa Tomei hula hooping her way to glory. 

Gotta go run and touch the sky.

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