Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Penny at
a penny and her jots for Roundup.
I am off adventuring today, but I want to share some poetry and other goodness!
First, THANK YOU to those poets who responded to the
Myra Cohn Livingston challenge in last week's post! Looking at you,
Linda M.,
Jan,
Brenda,
Linda B., and
Heidi! Really good off-the-cuff writing, poets! It's a joy to read your words.
Now some links:
"How to Rise" - a poem I wrote for Spiritual Journey Thursday
an interview in which I was asked for
5 words to describe myself... I am still pondering the words I selected!
2 "Musts" for Writing Middle Grade Novels
And now, for a look at
SOME WRITER! by Melissa Sweet! This is a fun-to-explore book, and I found much in E.B. White's life that I could relate to. Here are 11 things, in no particular order:
1. E.B. White was well-loved by his parents.
There's a letter from his father written to his son on the occasion of his 12 birthday, and it is full of joy and support and love! I loved reading it, and I feel so fortunate to have similar letters from each of my parents.
2. E.B. White wrote love poems.
Here's one he wrote for his wife, Katharine Sergeant Angell:
Natural History
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unwinds a thread of his devising:
A thin, premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all the journey down through space,
In cool descent, and loyal-hearted,
He builds a ladder to the place
From which he started.
Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do,
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken strand to you
For my returning.
The poem was later read at Katharine's funeral... though E.B. White was too
distraught to attend. (Letters of E.B. White, 1929)
3. E.B. White knew how to snatch time.
“The best writing,” he said “is
often done by persons who are snatching time from something else.”
4. E.B. White believed in keeping it simple.
In an article about the great
Depression, Andy wrote, “The hope I see for the world... is to
simplify life.”
5. E.B. White embraced revision.
"Do not be afraid to seize whatever you
have written and cut it to ribbons; it can always be restored to its
original condition in the morning... Remember, it is no sign of
weakness or defeat that your manuscript ends up in need of major
surgery. This is a common occurrence in all writing, and among the
best writers."
6. E.B. White wrote from a place of love.
“All that I hope to say in books, all
that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world. I guess you can
find that in there, if you dig around.”
7. E.B. White loved the words, not the writer.
Melissa Sweet writes that "E.B. White never believed that writers
were celebrities. He wrote that when he was a child, an author 'was
a mythical being... The book was the thing, not the man behind the
book.' He did not seek literary approval and never considered
himself a great reader- he preferred reading farm journals and
boating magazines."
8. E.B. White trusted children and gave them credit for their intellectual and emotional capacities.
"Children are game for anything. I throw
the hard words, and they backhand them over the net."
9. E.B. White had fun (writing for children):
John Updike, who worked with Andy at
The New Yorker (Katharine White was his editor) remembered “how
much more fun” Andy seemed to have than the rest of the younger
staff. “Not loud or obvious fun, but contained, inturning fun.”
10. E.B. White believed in the goodness of humans:
"Sailors have an expression about the
weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same
is true of our human society – things can look dark, then a break
shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly.
It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life
on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness
that have lain for a long time, waiting to sprout when the conditions
are right. Man's curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness,
his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that
these same traits will enable him to claw his way out."
11. E.B. White reminds me a lot of my father.
"Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your
hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day." (Letters of
E.B. White, 1973)
