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Howdy, Campers--Happy Poetry Friday! The link is at the bottom of the page, right below my poem.
Our topic this round is Dear Younger Me. JoAnn started us off by encouraging her younger self not only to carry around notebooks...but to actually go back and mine them for ideas. Esther lovingly reassures her younger self--as she has encouraged me and countless others. Carla talks to her past self when she decided to write what would become her first nonfiction book.
I love this topic. We seem to be universally hard on ourselves. I am constantly giving myself tickets for the things I haven't accomplished...
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| Are you intimidated by the police in your head? Have you considered the possibility that you haven't done anything wrong? |
So here's what I'd tell my younger self...the one embarking on a voyage to the Children's Book Writers Planet:
Dear Enthusiastic, Younger, Much-Prettier-Than-You-Realize-Right-Now Me,
Dear Enthusiastic, Younger, Much-Prettier-Than-You-Realize-Right-Now Me,
~ Trust your gut. I know, I know. Your mother kept saying this and you looked at her cross-eyed.
What in the heck does that MEAN?
What in the heck does that MEAN?
Well--it means yes, take those classes, read children's literature, find a critique group, attend conferences, read how-to books...
...but give yourself the silence in which to discover that still, small voice within. She's there, I promise. But she whispers. The crazy clutter of our culture makes is hard to locate her (and Honey, it's only going to get worse, believe me. Buckle your seat belt.)
...but give yourself the silence in which to discover that still, small voice within. She's there, I promise. But she whispers. The crazy clutter of our culture makes is hard to locate her (and Honey, it's only going to get worse, believe me. Buckle your seat belt.)
She knows when that marvelous critique group is sending your story in the wrong direction, when the business advice you just heard from the podium does not fit your work habits or your style or your something-else.
Trust her. Wander with her. She usually doesn't take the well-traveled path.
~ Be patient. Ha ha--that's a good one, right? When you're still in your twenties, your very smart husband will say."Y'know...I think we'll both reach our peak in our 50s and 60s." HA! He can't be right, can he?
Um...yup.
Um...yup.
~ Keep creating content. That is, keep writing books. Because one day you could look up after visiting 19 gazillion schools, and you'll not only be exhausted to the bone...but your books will begin going out of print. ACK!
So yes, accept invitations to do school visits and teach workshops, because you love teaching. But be careful not to let them take over your writing time like some big blobby thing.
It's so tempting, isn't it? Your ego is definitely well-fed by those second graders who think you're the Queen of England.
So yes, accept invitations to do school visits and teach workshops, because you love teaching. But be careful not to let them take over your writing time like some big blobby thing.
It's so tempting, isn't it? Your ego is definitely well-fed by those second graders who think you're the Queen of England.
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| from Morguefile.com |
That's all, Kiddo. You'll do fine.
Oh--one more thing: slow down when you read your beautiful kid bedtime stories. I know, I know: you want to get to your work, but trust me...take a breath, take your time, and soak in the pleasure of reading to your kid.
Love,
me
P.S: I know you're not going to take any of this advice. And that's okay, too.
TO MY TEEN SELF
by April Halprin Wayland
Michael is lying.
Michael is lying.
I know that you're flying on wings of romance.
His teeth gleam, he loves you--well, at least at first glance.
But Michael is caught in the web he is weaving
Michael is out the door.
Michael is leaving.
Michael is lying.
Michael is lying.
Oh, dear.
It's coming:
the Niagara of crying.
poem and drawing (c) 2015 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
Oh--one more thing: slow down when you read your beautiful kid bedtime stories. I know, I know: you want to get to your work, but trust me...take a breath, take your time, and soak in the pleasure of reading to your kid.
Love,
me
P.S: I know you're not going to take any of this advice. And that's okay, too.
TO MY TEEN SELF
by April Halprin Wayland
Michael is lying.
Michael is lying.
I know that you're flying on wings of romance.
His teeth gleam, he loves you--well, at least at first glance.
But Michael is caught in the web he is weaving
Michael is out the door.
Michael is leaving.
Michael is lying.
Michael is lying.
Oh, dear.
It's coming:
the Niagara of crying.
poem and drawing (c) 2015 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
Thanks to my friend Robyn Hood Black for hosting today!
posted by April Halprin Wayland with the help of that still, small voice within.
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