WHEN IN FLORENCE

I have lived in Birmingham for nearly 25 years now, and I am embarrassed to say that until this weekend I had never ventured into the very lovely northwest part of the state that includes Florence, Muscle Shoals, Tuscumbia and Sheffield - otherwise known as the Quad Cities. My amazing hostesses were Pat Weaver and Sheila Renfro, and among other things, we visited Helen Keller's birthplace, which is called Ivy Green. While there, I decided the next poem in the historical women series will be about Helen, from the perspective of her dog.

See? Writers simply MUST travel.



Pat welcomed me into her home AND The Barn, where I got my horse fix. It had been about five years since my last ride, so she put me on Dixie and we took off on the trail. I swear, I had forgotten what it is like to canter and feel that rush of wind through the hair. Plus it was dusk, and we walked through a creek or two... absolutely gorgeous.



On Saturday morning, Pat took me for a surprise, and what a surprise it was. Ever heard of The Wall? Well. Tom Hendrix who is an amazing storyteller has built a memorial for his Euchee ancestor Miss Mary. Mary was removed to Oklahoma (Trail of Tears) and miraculously made the journey back to Alabama, all by herself, so she could be in a place where the rivers sing. Tom's goal has been to put one stone for every one of Mary steps. It's an amazing spiritual place, and I am still completely moved by the experience.

Go. You won't regret it.



And finally there was the Schmooze, which was the whole excuse for the trip. I was delighted to serve on a panel with Rachel Hawkins and Lindsey Leavitt, and of course connect with all the wonderful writers in the room. What an excellent way to spend a Saturday afternoon.



Special thanks to Pat. I'm so glad to know you.

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

The Nina Remembers Columbus

Three sisters, but I was the one he loved best.

His wife? She may have borne him a son
but I taught him to swim in possibility.
I baptized him in a hundred oceans
and introduced him to the New World.

He favored me, ask anyone.
Voyage after voyage we sailed, my ropes
taut in his hands, his boots claiming my deck,
his voice a booming song to lift my sails.

For him, I conquered warring currents,
discovered Cuba and placed him upon her shore,
delivered him from the eye of a hurricane.
And when he dropped anchor

I did not cry like the open-mouthed gulls.
I counted each bruising stroke as he rowed
away in his launch, then waited for his return
with the patience of wood.

My sisters, they meant nothing to me.

- Irene Latham

Here's another poem in the historical women series -- one that also appears in the Einstein anthology. One way I've found to liven this series up is to choose to write the poems from an odd viewpoint. And since ships are always female, I figured the Nina was fair game.

I'll be back tomorrow with a report about my awesome weekend in Florence, including the names of two new victims I've chosen for the continuation of the historical women series. (See, writers simply MUST travel! It's totally inspiring.)

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”

- Robert Louis Stevenson

MY LIFE IN PRINCESSES

When I was six years old I loved Cinderella. It wasn't so much the Fairy Godmother as her beautiful transformation... and all the birds and mice and squirrels working together to sew a gorgeous blue dress. Plus she was blonde, with blue eyes. Like me.

I also loved this book, THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN by George MacDonald. The princess' name was Irene. Need I say more?



My sister, on the other hand, adored Sleeping Beauty. Probably the blonde hair and green eyes had something to do with it. And the fact that she was born beautiful... as was my sister. And now her daughter, my niece, calls this princess "Sleeping Booty." Which I think is maybe the most adorable thing I have ever heard in my entire life.



When we were teenagers both my sister and I loved THE PRINCESS BRIDE. We dreamed of a Wesley all our own. And you know what? We got our Wesleys.



A decade later I gave birth to my third baby boy, and I had no idea what to name him. We settled on Eric, which happens to be the name of Ariel's prince.



Then today I took the Which Princess Are You? quiz at Facebook, and I got none of the above. I got the kind of princess who doesn't let a little thing like gender get in her way. One whose story started out as a poem. And for whom love and honor and loyalty are things worth fighting for. She doesn't look a thing like me on the outside. But on the inside...



And I can't write a post about princesses without mentioning Lindsey Leavitt, author of the forthcoming PRINCESS FOR HIRE. Lindsey is also one of my fellow panelists at Saturday's What to Expect When You're Expecting a Book in Florence, Alabama, along with cool chick Rachel Hawkins, author of HEX HALL.

Y'all come!

WHAT POETS LOOK LIKE

Meet the Big Table Poets: Shannon Smith, Barry Marks, Tom Gordon, Jerri Beck, Suzanne Coker, Seth Tanner, Robert Boliek and me

Quite the eclectic group, wouldn't you say? Our work is just as varied as our appearances... our day jobs and family circumstances too. Just to dispel any misconceptions or stereotypes that might be lingering out there in the world. :)

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

- Albert Einstein

FIRST DAY OF SPRING

So I'm thinking the only thing better than spring...
is fall.

But that's a ways off, so I'm really enjoying the Bradford pear trees all in bloom and the azaleas and the tiny redbuds. The weather's been gorgeous here, and so many good things are happening.

Like the poetry reading tonight at Christenberry Planetarium. It's our big release party for EINSTEIN AT THE ODEON CAFE, and I will be reading two poems. I'm especially excited because Hubby and kids will all be there. With our crazy family schedule, that just doesn't happen all that often. So, yeah, looking forward to that.

It's also the anniversary of my mother-in-law's death. It's been a difficult year in so many ways, but a year later it feels like we have moved through the transition. Our memories of her are overwhelmingly joyful -- sadness is always there but isn't crippling the way it was for a while. So today we will spend some time celebrating her life and talking about all the ways we loved her.

And despite travel and spring break and other craziness, I have managed to maintain my 1000 word a day diet. A group of us started on March 9, and we'll go through April 9. So far I haven't missed a day. What's especially great is that it feels good to me - 1000 words feels absolutely do-able without a tremendous strain on the rest of my life. I might just keep it up AFTER the thirty days.

On the reading front, I just completed THE READER by Bernhard Schlink and THE SENATOR'S WIFE by Sue Miller. The problem with THE READER is that I saw the movie. And if you've read the book, you know it is very straightforward. And the screenplay followed the book very very closely. For once, I preferred the movie version. And I gotta wonder if this is because I saw the movie first??

THE SENATOR'S WIFE was one of those books where I really wanted to see what happened to the characters, but I wasn't all that wild about it... until the end. Here are the last words in the book: "But what she would have told Delia if she had had the words then for what she has come to feel over the years, what she would have said - and she would swear that this is true- is that she did what she did with Tom that day for love. Out of love."

Happy happy spring to everyone!

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

Black Shawl Remembers Crazy Horse

The old ones like to say
memory is like riding a trail
at night with a lighted torch.
And so it does not surprise me
that your face has been swallowed
by darkness, your voice black as
the wounded wings of a crow.

But sometimes the torch flares,
illuminating the way your body
folded itself against mine,
how the last time you loved me
you dipped your thumb in red paint
and covered the part in my hair,
marking me a woman greatly loved.

When the rattlesnake came into
the lodge, you could not crush it.
And you couldn’t save our daughter
from the white man’s coughing disease.
In the end, the Black Hills were lost, too -
the heart of everything that is.

I wasn’t your only wife. But I am
the one who remembers. I whisper
your name and it drifts as snow
across the prairie, then melts
and is gone.

- Irene Latham

This one is another from the new anthology. I wrote it after visiting the Crazy Horse monument, then reading a few books. I loved South Dakota so much that we are going back this summer. And my father is meeting us there. Can't wait!

THE KINDNESS OF BLOGGERS

When I went out to get my mail today, I found inside an ordinary brown box this bit of loveliness:



When I unwrapped it, I found this wonderful book about poet William Stafford:


And this delicate origami butterfly:



And these wonderful hand-made fleur-de-sel caramels:


And inside the book, this:


And it all came from a beautiful person I would never have known if not for blogging. I mean who does things like this any more, such thoughtful, personal, tender things? Only the most giving of spirits. I am touched and honored and most grateful to call her "friend" -- thanks Kirie. "And all my love."

E IS FOR EVERYMAN

I think most readers would agree that we read first and foremost for the characters.

I know for me the best stories are the ones where I can slip into that character's skin and BE him or her. And the ones I like best are the everyman characters who are common people -- people like me -- who have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances. This is where the act of reading a book becomes a personal experience. Because I can imagine myself as Alice falling and falling down the rabbit hole. I can hear the wolves howling through the walls of the little house on the prairie. I can love Edward with the same intensity Bella does and feel her self-consciousness in the face of such beauty.

So, while we as writers often want to make our characters quirky, I think it's really important to remember to not make them so quirky that people can't relate to them. They need to have faults -- faults that directly impact the story. They need to make mistakes. They need to be human.

"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing."

- George Bernard Shaw

INTERVIEW AT JUVENESCENCE

Fellow Tenner Christy Raedeke, who is so gracious and wonderful and has a 2 book contract with Flux, has been posting an interview series of debut authors, and today I'm up. (How's that for a super-long, excited sentence?) Check out the interview here . And while you're there, read some of Christy's off-the cuff stories. If her books are anything like her blog, they are sure to entertain. Can't wait to read 'em!


"Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one."

- Dr. Seuss

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

The book is here! The book is here!

It is my pleasure to introduce the latest anthology from the Big Table Poets which includes 7 of my poems as well as poems by Jerri Beck, Robert Boliek, Suzanne Coker, Tom Gordon, Barry Marks, Shannon Smith and Seth Tanner.

For the next few weeks I will share the poems that appear in the book, starting with a revision of a poem I've shared here before. I'm telling you, a poem is never DONE.

Einstein’s Daughter

Had she been clock or apple,
compass or moving train, perhaps
Einstein wouldn’t have given her away.

Had she been mysterious, he might
have abandoned his obsession
with gravity and the speed of light,

claimed her as his most important
discovery. Had he taken her small hands,
just once, kissed each dimple and nail

perhaps he would have puzzled
over a different theory of relativity:
not E=mc2

but the riddled twist of DNA.
Perhaps he would have discovered
how shared time multiplies,

how love’s abstractions find
definition in story time and bath time
and leaving the light on, just in case.

- Irene Latham

"Half my life is an act of revision."

- John Irving

UN PEU FRANCAIS

When I didn't win this book in La Belette Rouge's contest, I put it on my birthday list, and that sweet husband of mine wrapped it right up and gave it to me just before I blew out all those candles.

I've been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I took two years of French in high school, and I love to cook French food... but FRENCH WOMEN DON'T SLEEP ALONE by Jamie Cat Callon was still full of wonderful tidbits I knew nothing of. I love the cultural emphasis on beauty and the rejection of our American either/or "right time and place" for sensuality. Every single experience can be sensual, and the French know this. I am completely inspired to further infuse my life with sensuality, to really explore and experience every little bit of life in the most complete way possible.

So, yeah, good read. Charming, in fact. Check it out.

"I sort of have a love affair with my work. Many of us work far too hard and we don't put enough value in the epicurean, sensual part of life."

- Kim Cattrall

MY NEW COVER!!!

THE FURNITURE OF HOME

I love plays. There is something about the live performance that moves me. And I have great admiration for people who write plays, particularly ones that move me. Which is why I was absolutely thrilled to meet Alabama Shakespeare Festival's playwright-in-residence Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder.

Elyzabeth was in town promoting her latest play, The Furniture of Home. It's set in Bayou la Batre, Alabama, on the one year anniversary of Katrina. She said this play is about family, about whether to go or stay. And if it's anything like her amazing play Gee's Bend, I know it will be an emotional experience.

Also of interest: Elyzabeth has been making her living as a playwright for two years now. This particular play was commissioned by Alabama Shakespeare Festival, and it's her second take, after throwing out the first. She said the only thing that remains of that first take is the title Furniture of Home and a blue chair.

See? All writers struggle. It's all a process. Every single word.

By the way, the play's title was inspired by a line from an Auden poem entitled "September 1, 1939." I love it when writers are inspired by poetry.

"It isn't where you came from; it's where you're going that counts."

- Ella Fitzgerald

MELISSA! NO MAKE THAT MOLLY!

Wha????

Sure didn't see that coming...

SNOW DAY

We woke up this morning to a wonderland. The kids are beside themselves, and I wish you could hear it... the soft patter of flakes, the squeak of shoes on snow, the squeals of the four-year-old across the street.

It's especially beautiful because it happens so seldom here in Birmingham. Life is like that, you know? It's the rare-ness that gives a thing it's value.

Now, gotta go listen some more. And make some snow cream.

"A rare experience of a moment at daybreak, when something in nature seems to reveal all consciousness, cannot be explained at noon. Yet it is part of the day's unity."

- Charles Ives

13,880 DAYS

That's how long I've been alive. And thinking of it in days really changes my perspective. It makes me realize how very important each and every day is.

Want to know how old YOU are in days? Check out Peter Russell's way-cool website. There's also a 3 minute meditation there that's awesome. And to think I didn't even know Peter Russell existed until I read an article by Michael Shapiro about Mr. Russell in Ode Magazine, my absolute favorite mag. (The subtitle is "FOR INTELLIGENT OPTIMISTS." Really great stuff every month.)

"They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

- Andy Warhol

D IS FOR DANGER

It's a strange thing writing a book. We create characters we grow to really love, and sometimes that makes it hard for us to do all the terrible things to them that we really must do if the story is going to work.

There must always be something at stake. And it must be something BIG, like life or death. As difficult as it is, we must put our characters in serious danger, so that the reader cares enough to see what happens next. And it's through this sort of danger that our characters evolve and overcome (or not) the awful circumstances that we, the evil awful author has thrust them into.

In my book LEAVING GEE'S BEND, the main character sets off for Camden to fetch the doctor for her deathly-ill mother. Only she's never been out of Gee's Bend before. And the only way out of Gee's Bend is by ferry. And there's been a storm, so the river is swollen. And the ferry operator is no where to be found. And when she boards the ferry, it busts loose, sending her crashing down the river. And she can't swim. And...

See? DANGER. :)

"There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away..."

- Emily Dickinson

*photo by Marion Post Wolcott, FSA, Gee's Bend, 1939

WELCOME TO MY NEW HOME!

Hello! So happy you're here!!

You know what's great about a new house? All that POTENTIAL, right there, waiting for you to realize. Sure it's a lot of work, but if it's where you really want to be.... and yes, this is the house I always wanted.

The house in the picture is a painting on my wall, right here, in this room where I type. It was inspired by the last house we lived in, way out in the country, on a big hill. I loved it there. LOVED it. But it was best for our family to move into a neighborhood closer to my husband's work that also had lots of children for ours to play with. It's been 11 years now since we've lived here, and I still miss that house on the hill. But I love the convenience of where we live. Always a trade-off, right? And the trade-off in the cyberworld is that I might lose some of friends by moving to this address. But I'll make new one, too.

Now. Must get busy trying the furniture out in different places. Happy weekend to all! And for those just joining, I've been blogging at Word Lovers Unite! for quite a while now but just moved everything to my new permanent residence. :)

VOICES IN MY HEAD

Yes, what you may have suspected is actually true: I hear voices. And being a writer, I am fond of creating analogies to describe those voices.

For instance, in the latest revision of LEAVING GEE'S BEND, I described one character's voice as "jagged as a saw blade." Then I thought of this: "gritty as greens that ain't been washed too good." (Obviously rural Alabama, right?)

Anyhow, turns out there are others who enjoy describing voices. Check out NPR's Vocal Impressions series. I particularly love this description of Morgan Freeman's voice: "Hash browns being grilled in olive oil" — Bill Isenberger

Anyone got a good one for Norah Jones?? Love her.

"Silence is more musical than any song."

- Christina Rossetti

REVISION MADNESS

We've all heard the old adage, "be careful what you wish for." Well. I've been wishing for my edits, and now I'm buried under them! Will come out soon.

Meanwhile, check out my friend Jessica's brilliant blog that's all about Keeping it Real. She is seriously awesome, and you will love her outlook on life.

Now, back to it....

Instead of a quote today, check out your very own Perseverence Quotient. Do you have what it takes to make your dreams come true?

That's what I thought. :)

DEBUT YA AUTHORS ROCK THE WORLD!

For those of you who love to read, we've got an interview series going on over at the Odyssey. In the past week, three new books from three new authors have hit the shelves:



Check out interview (by Heidi R. Kling) with Saundra Mitchell here!



Check out interview (by Holly Hoxter) with Erin Dionne here!



Check out interview (by moi) with Jenny Moss here!

"One new feature or fresh take can change everything."

- Neil Young

OPEN INVITATION TO POETRY-LOVING BLOGGERS

So I've been working on this article for a local paper on National Poetry Month (April) and why poetry is so important and wonderful and beautiful and essential. And it's got me thinking about what I can do here to make the month even more fun.

Ever heard of Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project? Well. It's awesome. And I do a take-off of it here in Birmingham called My Favorite Poem, where folks from all walks of life take the stage to share their favorite famous poem and tell the audience how that poem has impacted their lives. It's an amazing event. And I would like to do something similar here during April.

Here's how it will work: every day during April I will post a poetry-loving blogger's favorite poem (and of course a link to their blog). I've already contacted some of you, but let this serve as an invitation to anyone who wants to participate. You can leave your info in comments or shoot me an email at irene (at) irenelatham (dot) com.

Hope you'll join me, because it's gonna be fun! Meanwhile, I've got a bad case of spring fever...

"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"

- Mark Twain

TWO QUESTIONS THIS EDITOR ASKS

Last night I attended the reading/release party for the latest issue of Birmingham Arts Journal, graciously hosted by the Birmingham Public Library. As always, the room was full of wonderful writers and artists and lots of inspiring words.

Near the end of the reading, I spoke to the audience about how I select poems for the journal, and I wanted to share that information here as well.

When I review a poem, I am looking for two things:

1. Does the poem acheive what it sets out to acheive?

This of course is based on my perception of what the poem is trying to achieve. But whether or not my perception is accurate, it matters. Because I am a reader who cannot possibly know what's going on inside the writer's head. All I have to go on is the words in front of me. So, if it works, I know it works. And if it doesn't quite get there? I discard the poem.

But. If the poem works, I move on to the next Very Important Thing:

2. Does the poem make me feel something? Do I feel I've been punched in the gut? Does my throat start to tighten up? Do I gasp? Do I instantly want to re-read to better absorb that feeling, whatever it may be?

THAT is what I am looking for in a poem. And that is what I strive for when I write poems. It might be a raw piece of writing, or it might be something more polished, but if it meets those two criteria, I want it for the journal.

"One kind word can warm three winter months."

- Japanese proverb

C IS FOR CHANGE

Nobody tells you when you're just starting out as a writer just how much you will change and your manuscript will change and your outlook on the world will change.

I think it's sort of like how we protect an expectant mother from the reality of a colicky fitful baby and focus on the darling dress and sweet socks she'll be dressed in. Or perhaps it's more than the expectant mother simply cannot see what life with baby will be like until baby is actually in her arms, so why bring it up?

When I set out to write a book set in Depression-era Gee's Bend, I couldn't fathom the number of drafts, the number of character I would add, then later cut, the number of times I would use the "find" and "replace" features on Microsoft WORD. And that's before I ever added an editor to the mix.

Change is good. And sometimes it's scary and overwhelming too. The road is fraught with self-doubt and shifting confidence that floods the beach one moment, the next leaves it pocked with broken shells and sea glass. But ultimately change equals growth. And that's always good to see.

The latest change in my writing life is the title of my book: say goodbye to the witches, because my publisher has officially christened the book LEAVING GEE'S BEND. The thinking here is "witches" is misleading in that the book contains nothing paranormal... and they want to shift the focus to my ten year old girl's amazing adventure. Cool, huh?

"If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.

~Mary Engelbreit

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN POETRY AND PROSE

My friend Suzanne and I have got it all figured out:

Poetry is Feline


Prose is Canine


Think about it: the cat shows up when it wants to. Sometimes it sleeps in your lap, sometimes it stays out all night. It is elegant and graceful. It watches things very closely. The dog is always there, needing you for something. It's clumsy and makes messes. When it looks at you longingly, you feel better when you pat it on the head.

"I like pigs. Dogs look up at us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals."

- Winston Churchill

LUCKY NUMBER FOUR

So Kirie, whom I completely adore, over at 3 Little Chickies , tagged me for this fun little romp through the photo files. Instructions are to open your fourth folder, then post the fourth picture.

And what's this, you're asking? A snapshot of the first page of my youngest son's Diary. Er, Book of Secrets. Pretty adorable, huh? And I love that he journals. All HIM, let me tell you. He inspires me on a daily basis.

Now. To pass it along to four others:

Chelley Cat (an awesome photographer -- can't wait to see what she posts!)
Rachel (budding photographer and daughter of a most beautiful person also known as Four Angels Momma)
River Garden Studio (where I've been lurking lately because of all the amazing things this gal does with color and texture. Oh and she also has really excellent taste in music. Talk about inspiring!)
DysFUNctional Mom (Another secret hideout... her motto is "Just smile and nod." How can I not love that?!)

"Go and wake up your luck."

- Persian saying

B IS FOR BEGINNINGS

Someone told me once that there are three parts of a book: the beginning, the end, and everything in between.

Trouble is, you can't get to parts two and three without a really excellent part one. Truly, a story or poem or book is nothing without a great start.

We may think "once upon a time," and all stories do start there, but of course it's not what we write. And clearly the days of “It was a dark and stormy night” are long gone in a society that craves action and lots of it. So as writers, we’ve really got to get in there and get moving FAST. Which, for me, usually involves razing the Front Porch: gotta clear out all that backstory and provide the reader with a wide-open front door.

Here are a few of my favorite beginnings:

All children, except one, grow up. Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie

In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. Madeline - Ludwig Bemelmans

The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another his mother called him "WILD THING!" and Max said "I'LL EAT YOU UP!" so he was sent to bed without eating anything. Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice "without pictures or conversation?" Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast. Charlotte's Web - E.B. White

When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

For many days we had been tempest-tossed. The Swiss Family Robinson - Johann Wyss

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Black Beauty - Anna Sewell

Once, in a house on Egypt Street, there lived a rabbit who was made almost entirely of china. The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane - Kate DiCamillo

A long time ago, when all the grandfathers and grandmothers of today were little boys and little girls or very small babies, or perhaps not even born, Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura and Baby Carrie left their little house in the Big Woods of Wisconsin. Little House on the Prairie - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of threes steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

It was a pleasure to burn. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell

Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventh-first birthday with a part of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. The Fellowship of the Ring - J.R.R. Tolkien

And because Amy asked, here’s the beginning of my very own The Witches of Gee’s Bend:

“Mama always said every quilt tells a story.”

If you’ve got favorites, I’d sure love to hear ‘em!

LISTENING TO MY FATHER

Last night as I was at the stove trying to make magic with chicken and onions, my father called, from the hospital, where he has been since Wednesday.

He seemed to be in a good mood despite the discomfort and boredom of the hospital room and was pleased to give me the latest doctor's report. Then he shared with me a poem he had just read: "Preservatives" by cowboy poet Baxter Black. He read the poem to me with accent and all, as if he WAS Baxter Black, sitting beside some small fire on an open prairie with horses snorting and coyotes calling.

I thought, this is a moment I don't want to forget. This is why I chose LISTEN for my one little word. There is nothing more important or beautiful or necessary than the sound of a father reading to his grown-up daughter over the phone.

"Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."

- Chinese proverb

I'D LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY...

As Oscar nominations are set to be announced in just a few minutes, I wanted to share this little bit of trivia I recently read: Actors who receive Academy Awards outlive their less-honored peers by four years (on average), and actors who receive multiple Oscars live an average of seven years longer.

So. Turns out validation from one's peers has a very positive effect on longevity, and I would imagine, quality of life.

I wonder if it boils down to the level of stress? Like maybe it's all that STRIVING that wears a person down? I mean, once you've got one of those lovely statuettes for your mantel, I guess you can relax a bit while all the little people come to YOU...

"Acting is all about honesty. If you can fake that, you've got it made."

- George Burns

A BOOK BY ITS WORDS

How do you judge a book? I mean, when you walk into a bookstore and pull a book from the shelf, what is it about the book that ultimately makes you reach for your wallet?

My selection method goes something like this: I see a title that intrigues me. Here I'm looking for words alone. THEN I look at the cover art and the book blurbs and the inside jacket. Many times the book goes back on the shelf at this point.

But if I'm still interested, I flip through to a random page and read a few sentences. Does it make me think? Feel? Do I like the tone and voice? Do I want to know more?

I flip again to another random page and repeat the analysis. And that's when I know if I'm going to buy the book or not.

The great news is that there are so many books out there these days -- truly, there is something for everyone.

What's your process in deciding which one to bring home?

"Real success is finding your lifework in the work that you love."

- David McCullough

WHY DO YOU WRITE FOR CHILDREN?

Yesterday my friend Teresa sent me to Nathan Bransford's blog where guest blogger Adrienne Kress answers the above question. And it got me thinking about my own answer to the question.

Here's my unedited e-mail response to Teresa:

"I think my (catty) answer would be: why not?

My long answer I owe to those MG authors I grew up loving, first and foremost Laura Ingalls Wilder. Heck, I STILL want to be her when I grow up.

This writer [Adrienne Kress] said "whimsy," but I would say "innocence." I like simple story lines, ones that address the basic human needs/desires for love, before they get all complicated by sex and money and politics. There is a clean sweetness to those stories that really appeals to me."

Now that I've had the chance to sleep on it and further ponder Teresa's answer to the question, and I realize I didn't quite say it right. Because, as Teresa pointed out, all love is complicated. Because humans are complicated. This I believe with my whole heart.

So I think what I was trying to say is, for me as a writer writing for children, I can explore those complexities more simply, more powerfully, without the distraction of sex and money and politics. You know, by writing about the primary loves in a person's life -- for parent or sibling or pet. Everything that happens before romantic love. Everything that prepares one for romantic love.

Does that make any sense?

Anyhow, it's a great question. Thanks, Teresa for your thoughts!

"Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate."

- Sigmund Freud

A IS FOR AGENT

So you're asking yourself, do I really need an agent?

All I can do to answer this question is share my own experience.

When I started really working hard to improve my fiction skills, I had this dream: I wanted to be that golden treasure some unsuspecting editor unearthed from the slush pile. I wanted to have one of those magical stories to tell about getting discovered. Amazingly, children's literature and poetry are two genres where this actually happens. But it didn't happen to me.

After submitting various manuscripts to various editors, all of whom I "met" at SCBWI Southern-Breeze conferences, and getting very warm feedback from editors at houses like Tricycle and Jump at the Sun/Hyperion and Milkweed... BUT still not getting any offers, I was feeling a bit impatient and wondered if perhaps I had chosen the wrong fork in the road. So when the registration form came in for Writing and Illustrating for Kids 2006, I marked a session entitled "Agent and Author: the road to representation." Or something like that. Honestly, I can't recall. But what I do recall is how much I liked agent Rosemary Stimola and her brand-new client Hester Bass. Ro (as I've learned to call her) also represents much-admired authors like R.A. Nelson and Suzanne Collins, knows the business inside and out, is a straight-shooter AND is super quick to respond to e-mail (my preferred method of communication). So, I thought, okay. Maybe.

About a week later, I got brave enough to send her my manuscript, which was a story set in Gee's Bend but told in verse. (Poetry is SO my comfort-zone, and wow, have you read Out of the Dust??) She shot me an e-mail right back that said she was interested in the story but already had a novel-in-verse sitting on her desk that she'd been unable to sell. In short, thanks, but no thanks.

So. What did I do? I re-wrote the darn story in prose. Then I shared it with a writing buddy who shredded it. Absolute total annhiliation. Or at least that's the way it felt. I wanted to give up. I wanted to throw the whole story in the garbage and never look back. And I almost did.

But then I had a lightbulb moment. I suddenly knew what to do with my story: Change the boy main character to a girl (who was a minor character in the earlier version) AND switch it to first person. Major, major changes, right? Ones that take sweet time. But when I finished that first draft (can I still call it a first draft??), I knew I had turned a corner. I knew THIS was a story worth writing.

So what did I do? Oh, impatient impulsive me. I zipped off that first draft to Rosemary Stimola. My raw, chapped poor little newborn who was still recovering from surgery. I didn't bother to mention that I had previously submitted a manuscript to her -- I just sent the thing straight-up, as if I had never ever contacted her in the first place. (Like if I didn't mention it, it hadn't happened?? Something like that.)

This one she liked. This one she said, yes, I think I know just the editor for this story. How 'bout I send it out?

Which she did, of course, and after some drama I'll save for another day, I had an agent and an editor and a book contract wonderfully negotiated by a real live professional who is so worth her commission. Who knows how much longer it might have taken me to get a contract without her?? And now I have her sheperding through the whole process, and I couldn't be more grateful.

So to those of you wondering about agents, I say YES. Go for it. Maybe it doesn't have as much magic as a slush pile miracle, but it's still pretty amazing.

"One's own self is well hidden from one's own self; of all mines of treasure, one's own is the last to be dug up.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

SHOWCASE SUNDAY

First Day of Winter
“All secrets are witnessed.”- Barbara Kingsolver

Somewhere glaciers that haven’t
moved for hundreds of years
shift ever so slightly, give
birth to currents only lantern fish see.
Somewhere the last leaf drops
unnoticed from the limbs of a dogwood,
lands square on the back of a beetle
who stills at the sudden shade.
At the same time a tropical storm
rises anonymously in the Gulf of Mexico,
geese fly through sheets of ice pellets
that never make it to the ground,
rain floods island lowlands,
mud crawls down a mountainside
swallowing a house whole,
the only witness a lost llama,
teats swollen and weeping milk.

Here the rusty chimes wake me
from dreams of sailing
together across glassy water,
I warm my hands on a coffee mug,
watch thunderclouds roll
across the sky in a pattern I’ve never seen
while your unborn daughter
sends tidal waves up her mother’s spine,
still deciding if conditions are right for travel,
and when you call to tell me,
your voice crackles on the line--
I know there must be lightning
but the clouds are so thick I can’t see it.

- Irene Latham

How 'bout that illustration? A wonderful artist Jeff Faulk, who goes by Monk, penned this one, and it appears in my book WHAT CAME BEFORE. Love it!

Somehow I missed the most recent first day of winter, but I did, in fact, write this poem on an actual first day of winter. It's one of those pieces I'm not sure I completely understand myself, so I am especially interested in how others interpret it.

How mysterious, the birth of a poem...


“Birth and death are not two different states, but they are different aspects of the same state. There is as little reason to deplore the one as there is to be pleased over the other.”

- Mahatma Gandhi

FIVE FOR FRIDAY

1. I am so inspired by this jar of buttons. The glass was a gift from my mother (it originally held daylilies from her garden), and the buttons I've collected over many years. How cheerful they look in their new home!

2. Here is a stack of mending that must be tended to, now that I've got my sewing machine back from the repair shop. Turns out it was just a cord that needed replacement (after being chewed by my cat). The repair guy remarked that before Christmas his shelves were empty, but in the past week, he has taken in 40 machines for repair. Then yesterday I saw an article that said sewing machine sales are through the roof. The thinking is that with the hard economic times, people are trying to be more self-sufficient and are planning to make their own curtains and clothes and stuff. Sounds rather hopeful to me... sewing is very much a trial and error thing... how many times have I had to go back to Hancock's and buy MORE fabric??

3. I just finished this book, and as you can see by the yellow post-it paper, I marked quite a few pages that contain passages I want to re-visit (and possibly work into future poems). I really liked Will and Claire, and all the delicious longing found here.

4. This is my new research method: index cards and a recipe box. I got the idea from Barrie Summy, author of the new MG I So Don't Do Mysteries. She uses it in a slightly different way while plotting a novel, but I have employed it as a way to organize research data for My New Idea. Thanks, Barrie, and your book sounds awesome!

5. How cute is this bag? I won it for showing up for Jazzercise 3 times a week during the busy holiday months (November and December). What's funny is, I was just about to quit Jazzercise... then they started the bag promo. (Turns out I'm one of those people who needs a lot of incentive to keep on the exercise track.)

"First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do."

- Epictetus