COPYEDITS, OH HOW I LOVE THEE

So, copyedits.

I love this stage of the publishing process. It's polishing time, agonize-over-just-the-right-verb time. Now is the time to make these words not just sing, but belt it out, baby! (That's Billie Holiday, by the way.)

It's also humbling. I mean, how many times have I been over this manuscript, and there are still three incidents of the word "go" in that paragraph??

Also, I get a kick out my dear editor's comments, esp. this one: "Really?" Translation: what you just wrote is pretty much impossible, but if you can prove it to me, I'm with you. :)

So think of me with furrowed brow, a thesaurus ever-open on the internet screen. Good stuff!

WELCOME TO POETRY FRIDAY ROUNDUP!

Dear Fellow Word Lovers,

Happy last Friday of August!

I guess I've had "roundup" on my mind this week... I've been working a horse-inspired quilt. And while I've been working, I've been thinking about poetry.

More specifically, I've been asking: What is the poem's object? What is it supposed to do?

This week, to the hum of the sewing machine, I came to this conclusion:

The poem's object is to BURST.


As Walt Whitman said in his poem "Beat, Drums! Beat!"

"Through the windows--through doors--burst like a ruthless force"

complete poem found here

This bursting is really just a variation on something I've written here before, about the poem "exploding the moment."

And it's sort of the same thing my friend Joan Broerman reported that Laurie Halse Anderson said in her keynote at SCBWI LA earlier this summer.


So: Burst. Explode. Disturb.

Anyone else noticing a theme here?? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the topic in comments. And don't forget to add your link below. Happy Poetry Friday, all!

GET HAPPY WITH SIDEWALK CHALK!

Yet another reason I love ODE magazine: The promote joy an optimism with days like today!


So join me, won't you? Get out your chalk and draw some rainbows and stuff. Anyone who sends me pictures, I've got a little something happy to send to YOU. xo

HELLO, HURRICANE IRENE

It's not everyday one gets named a hurricane.

HOWEVER: I must confess: it's not my first time.

See, there was another Hurricane Irene, back in October, 1999.

Here are the headlines my sister and I collected:

One of my favorite memories of that experience was my Grandma Dykes who told me in her precious voice that it was a "sweet hurricane," and how could it NOT be, with my name?

That's the kind of loving I've been fortunate to have my entire life. Is there any more important gift we can give one another??

So. Here's hoping the 2011 Hurricane Irene is also a sweet one. Thinking about all those on the trajectory... stay safe!

THE 700 CLUB!

Welcome to my 700th blog post! Who knew back in 2005 when I started this blog that six years later I'd still feel compelled to share in this way?!

A quick look at my stats shows that my activity here has been somewhat mercurial: in 2007 I only posted 18 times. Then, the very next year, I sent a whopping 222 notes out into the cyberworld.

My topics of interest have remained pretty consistent: life, love, books, writing.

My most-visited post is one from my 2009-10 series of Author ABCs: Z is for ZZZZZ. Not for the content, but for the jeweled "z" image!

One of my favorite posts I ever wrote was from last year: Dear Julius Lester, in which I talk about the challenges of writing a book across cultures, and how Julius Lester provided an open door for my heart.

This blog actually started out as "Daytips for Writers," but I soon realized a post a day was too ambitious for my lifestyle. Also, I quickly realized I wanted to talk about things other than writing.

Like, choosing one little word as a focal point each year. I've actually been talking with my mother about a quilting project that will incorporate all my "one little words" as the years pass. Look for a post on this in the not-too-distant future!

Meanwhile, to celebrate being a member of the 700 CLUB, I thought it might be fun to show you some pictures of things in my house that I have 700 of. While I am not a hoarder, I am sentimental. And I have a hobby or two. See for yourself:

BOOKS! (even after I donated about 3000 last summer)

NATURE ITEMS (I'm a poet, okay? Lovelovelove walks on the beach, in the woods, down the street, by the pond...)

PICTURES (such a SUCKER for photographs, both framed and in scrapbooks. Love to surround myself with those I love, in all their different incarnations)

and FABRIC! (of course)

So, dear friends, that's my 700. Thanks for sticking with me. And now I'd love to know what YOU have 700 of in your house. Spill!

BOOKTALK: THE EMERALD ATLAS

You know when the publisher goes ALL OUT that house expectations for a book are high. Such was the case with THE EMERALD ATLAS by John Stephens.(View Random House's website for this book here.)

There's nothing particularly original here (think very simplified LORD OF THE RINGS and/or HARRY POTTER), but that's okay. It's got lots of adventure, magical elements, and characters you want good things to happen to (and instead, bad things happen to). Give it to your readers who enjoyed THE SPIDERWICK CHRONICLES or A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. They will enjoy with this one too. And, as series books are often King of the Marketplace, this book is only the first. So there's the whole anticipatory factor to build upon.

I know there are plenty of readers for this book. Which is why I don't feel bad saying it wasn't for me. I just didn't feel it.

Onward! For more Book Talks, visit Kelly at the Lemme Library.

QUILTING UPDATE

Behold the lovelies:

This one is a birthday gift for a special friend:

This one is also a birthday gift for a special friend (who loveloveloves Christmas)...and it gave me an opportunity to put the tiniest dent in my Christmas fabric stash. But you'd never know it, because since I pieced this one, Pat has sent me all sorts of new Christmas fabrics. (Thanks, Pat! You are THE BEST.) So, yes, I do believe there may be some additional Christmas quilts in my future.

And this one I'm calling my "Poinsettia Quilt." It's also a birthday gift for a Very Important Woman in my life. That's all I'm gonna say!

Oh, and here's the back of the Poinsettia Quilt. It looks a little "Gee's Bend" to me.

Stay tuned for more quilts... I've pieced four (4 !!) in the past few weeks. I am learning SO MUCH during this 2011 Quilt a Month challenge. Like, IRONING IS GOOD. More on this in at later post. :)

POEMS THAT MOVE THROUGH YOUR VEINS

I've been reading a wonderful book:
POETRY FROM A To Z: A Guide for Young Writers by Paul B. Janeczko. Not only does it contain some lovely poems from all sorts of poets on all sorts of subjects, it also includes exercises and inspiring quotes from those poets.

My favorite:

"If you want to write poetry, you must have poems that deeply move you. Poems you cannot live without. I think of a poem as the blood in a blood transfusion, given from the heart of the poet to the heart of the reader. Seek after poems that live inside you, poems that move through your veins."

- Ralph Fletcher

Today I will be writing from a couple of the exercises in this book.
For more poetry, visit Karen for Poetry Friday Roundup!

THINGS I'M THINKING ABOUT THURSDAY

1. Back to School! Today I watched Eldest Son drive off to start his junior year. Middle Son started back this past Monday, and Youngest Son and I are two months into our homeschool adventure, which started this past June.

The alarm clock rings far too early. But it will allow us to get into some sort of a more formal routine. Which might be good. We'll see.

2. Doughnuts Guess what just moved into the building that sits in front of our Wal-Mart?

KRISPY KREME DOUGHNUTS.

And guess who has zero willpower when it comes to doughnuts??

Oh, you lemon filled lovelies! How you tempt!

3. Why Yellow? That's the question Doraine asked about the redesign of ye ol' blog.

Short answer: my son did it. To match my business cards. (The header is only temporary -- he's working on something "cool," he said.)
Longer answer: There's something about yellow, isn't there? And because of your question, Doraine, I had to write a poem about yellow. And I liked it so much I submitted it to a magazine. We'll see what happens.

4. Picture Books Yes. Reading LOTS of these for my class. I'm finding myself to be a bit finicky... my taste has certainly evolved since reading picture books to my kids. It's really interesting to read the 2010 and 2011 releases as a writer. I'll be sharing some of these along the way, and I plan to do a wrap-up post of my top five at the end of the six week course. Stay tuned!

And what's up in your world?? Do tell!

NEW PICTURE BOOKS FOR BOYS

Last week I started a Picture Book Intensive with Anastasia Suen. As part of the class we will be reading five picture books a week. Actually, I'm reading at least twice that, but only five are required for the assignments. We're focusing on the latest releases, of course, as all of us in the class want to write and sell our own picture books.

Here's three from this past week that strike me as especially great for boys:

THESE HANDS by Margaret H. Mason, illustrated by Floyd Cooper

Grandfather talks to grandson about what hands can and cannot do. Beautiful art. Includes historical information about discrimination in the Wonder Bread company which, in the 1940s and 50s, did not allow black hands to touch the dough. I found it touching and meaningful.

BLACKOUT by John Rocco

This one is about a city that experiences a blackout and what a family does during that time. Not a lot of words in this one, and it's really not so much about the family as it is the experience of a blackout. Which is why I think boys will be particularly interested. And it would be a good tie-in for any energy-related discussions.

EARTH TO CLUNK by Pam Smallcomb, illustrated by Joe Berger

This one is really fun! Very imaginative with a grumpy little boy as its hero. Prepare to laugh out loud as the boy decides having a pen pal (Clunk) isn't such a bad thing after all.

For more book talks, visit Kelly at the Lemme Library for Book Talk Tuesday!

THE PROBLEM WITH POETRY

Last week when I posted a poem for Poetry Friday, StableGranny had this to say:

"poetry is the picking flowers, bird watching, take a nap on your way to get some place... write me a poem that is put you foot down and get there."

I just shook my head in sadness when I read that comment. Because looking at the small things, exploding the moment -- that's pretty much the point of poetry. It requires the writer to take time and look closely at something, and it promises the reader a new perspective or awareness. If the reader will only take the time too.

And while it saddens me that our world moves so fast sometimes that poetry gets lost, I'm thinking that all of us poets can learn from this comment:

Less is more.
Say it.
Get there.
Then get out of the poem.

I've written a number of poems this week with this advice in mind. But I don't care what StableGranny says: I still love a meandering poem that picks flowers, bird watches and takes a nap. :)

For more poetry, Libby has Poetry Friday Roundup at A Year of Literacy Coaching.

painting by De Scott Williams

ENVY IS A FOUR LETTER WORD

Indeed, it's not something we generally like to admit about ourselves, but in the competitive world of book publishing, envy certainly exists.

Which is why today I wrote a post about it at Smack Dab in the Middle. Check it out!

And be on the lookout for more "How to Deal...." posts this month at Smack Dab... I can't wait to see what topics other authors blog about.

YOU MIGHT BE A WRITER IF...

... you ask your mother for a new dictionary "for nighttime reading, because the other one is out of date."

I'm talking to you, Son-Who-Thinks-He's-All-Math-&-Science!

(And thanks for giving me another example to share during my "You Might Be a Writer If" bit at school visits. :)

WHAT'S YOUR MORAL COMPASS?

In the backmatter of the book I just finished-- THE HEARTS OF HORSES by Molly Gloss, one of the discussion questions is about one's moral compass. It cites how the main character uses "how people treat their horses" as her moral compass. And it asks what's your moral compass?

My mind when sorta blank at first, then started shifting through all the things I know about myself -- like common characteristics of people I like to surround myself with, what's important to me, what things in this world make sense to me and what don't.

I decided my moral compass is gray. As in, lots of gray area. I'm not particularly rule-bound, don't buy into any one political or religious framework, and definitely like to go my own way. I believe we are on this planet to love one another. I don't have a lot of patience with folks who are content to follow the herd, don't dive deep into themselves, don't value family and memory and meaningful relationships. I think one's relationship with oneself is the most important relationship of all. I get frustrated with people who wait for things to happen to them instead of going out and making it happen. But I love them anyway.

Gray enough for you?

Turns out, one's moral compass is actually a specific function of a specific spot in the human brain. I wonder if we inherit these traits or if they're pre-programmed or can be learned or shaped by environment?

Probably all of the above.

See? Gray.

Not sure about your own moral compass? Take the quiz at quiz farm.(I scored Pacifist-Conqueror-Guardian.)

Or this one, although it is more about the balance of your morals and seems geared toward business owners. (I'm pretty balanced.)


Now I'd like to read this book by William J. Bennett, also on the topic:

And yes, I should say: me and Margaret, the main character in THE HEARTS OF HORSES do have a few things in common, including using how we see people treat others as a way to form opinions about them. Great read!

TERMITE TROUBLE

Guess what lovely little insect has taken up residence in the walls of our home?

Yep, this guy: the subterranean formosan termite.

And guess whose policy DOES NOT COVER THIS PARTICULAR SPECIES?

Yep.

Turns out, the formosan is a special termite, not native to our area. It hails from Asia. And they are hungry little critters capable of doing significant damage FAST.

And all those ground treatments they do for regular ol' termites? THEY DON'T WORK.

So. Bummer.

Fortunately, Terminix is a really excellent company that values its customers. They have offered us an option so that we don't have to bear all of the expense (holy goodness, expensive! AND intensive!) of repairs - even though it wasn't part of our original policy. LOVE it when the corporate world does the above-and-beyond-we-care-about-you thing! And now our policy DOES include protection against these eager interlopers.

Friends in the southeast: does YOUR policy cover the formosan?? Trust me, you don't want these visitors.

Anyone else have termite stories to tell?

SIXTEEN WORDS FOR LOVE

Just wanted to share a tiny poem (that's really huge) for Poetry Friday. I wrote it this morning after a prompt given to me by fellow writer and friend Sheila.

Sixteen Words for Love

Ablaze now,
I give you
yes
raw snowmelt,
unbroken
braid.

Listen:
this ocean
is our map.

copyright 2011 Irene Latham

For more poetic goodness visit Kate at the Book Aunt for Roundup!

THINGS I'M THINKING ABOUT THURSDAY

1. Blogs More specifically, youngest son's blog. His first, created by him and him alone, all in the past week. It's inspired me to work some on THIS blog, to snazz it up a bit. In fact, I might just hire HIM to do it for me!

For the curious-about-the-11-year-old-male-mind, here's a link.

2. Binders Yes, indeed, it is back-to-school time. And my guys are VERY TOUGH on binders. We have learned from experience to buy only the ones marked Heavy Duty. Trouble is, these sell out rather quickly. Which means I've got to get to on it. And fast.

3. Boots Yes, it's August. Yes, it's miserable-hot. And yes, I am thinking FALL/WINTER. This is the year I want to buy myself that great pair of cowboy boots. There's a pair I am craving over at one of my favorite places: Sundance. But I'm still shopping. So if you've got suggestions, bring 'em on.

4. Plays As in, plays written for the stage. Thanks to oldest son's summer reading list, we, as a family, have this week watched OUR TOWN by Thornton Wilder and THE GLASS MENAGERIE by Tennessee Williams. OUR TOWN has long been a favorite, But I've not been a big Tennessee Williams fan -- until now. Maybe it's an age thing. But I certainly enjoyed the movie. And it's a reminder to the writer in me to STUDY SCRIPTS. Wow.

So that's me. How's your Thursday?

THINKING GREEN

Behold July's bounty:

Not from my garden, but from Pat's and Mama's and Carl's and Yuko's. The house smells like home, what with the scent of green beans cooking in the pot all day. (Holy goodness, Pat! That was a MESS of beans! Will be freezing some of them.) For supper I will bake some cornbread and we will feast.

Thanks, friends!

OH TINY LIVING LIGHTNING

Today I am writing a poem about a hummingbird.

Turns out, hummingbirds have often been an source of inspiration to poets -- from Emily Dickinson to Robert Frost to Mary Oliver. Not to mention the lovely HUMMINGBIRD NEST by Kristine O'Connell George. Which makes it a daunting subject to tackle. I mean, what can I possibly say that hasn't already been said?

Instead of being intimidated, I choose to be inspired. Especially when I read this one by Pablo Neruda:

Ode to the Hummingbird

The hummingbird
in flight
is a water-spark,
an incandescent drip
of American
fire,
the jungle's
flaming resume,
a heavenly,
precise
rainbow:
the hummingbird is
an arc,
a golden
thread,
a green
bonfire!

Oh
tiny
living
lightning,
when
you hover
in the air,
you are
a body of pollen,
a feather
or hot coal,
I ask you:
What is your substance?
Perhaps during the blind age
of the Deluge,
within fertility's
mud,
when the rose
crystallized
in an anthracite fist,
and metals matriculated
each one in
a secret gallery
perhaps then
from a wounded reptile
some fragment rolled,
a golden atom,
the last cosmic scale,
a drop of terrestrial fire
took flight,
suspending your splendor,
your iridescent,
swift sapphire.

You doze
on a nut,
fit into a diminutive blossom;
you are an arrow,
a pattern,
a coat-of-arms,
honey's vibrato, pollen's ray;
you are so stouthearted--
the falcon
with his black plumage
does not daunt you:
you pirouette,
a light within the light,
air within the air.
Wrapped in your wings,
you penetrate the sheath
of a quivering flower,
not fearing
that her nuptial honey
may take off your head!

From scarlet to dusty gold,
to yellow flames,
to the rare
ashen emerald,
to the orange and black velvet
of our girdle gilded by sunflowers,
to the sketch
like
amber thorns,
your Epiphany,
little supreme being,
you are a miracle,
shimmering
from torrid California
to Patagonia's whistling,
bitter wind.
You are a sun-seed,
plumed
fire,
a miniature
flag
in flight,
a petal of silenced nations,
a syllable
of buried blood,
a feather
of an ancient heart,
submerged

For more poetic inspiration, visit Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference. I'll be at my window, watching and writing.

MAMA AND ME IN MONTICELLO

My mother lives just outside the charming town of Monticello, Florida. So, on my recent visit, we decided to "do" Monticello.

Here we are, happy to be together.

Turns out, everything there is to "do" in Monticello can't be done on a Monday. We drove up to one antique store after another only to find a "CLOSED" sign. We admired the historic Wirick Simmons house and bemoaned the fact that we couldn't get in.

And then we went into the drug store. When we told the cashier about our predicament, she said, I know just who to call.

Not thirty minutes later we met members of the Jefferson County Historical Society for a private tour of the house! And it was lovely. Aren't small towns THE BEST??

Here's Mama with Eric,one of the best travelers EVER.

The yard outside the house was so very Florida. The soil was sandy, and there were magnolias and live oaks and palmettos. And palm trees of course!

And here's a close-up shot. I wish I had taken an even closer-up shot -- love how those palm trees have that bristly hair-looking stuff growing amid the latticework you see here.

Inside the house we found other treasures, like this dress that the wearer had a hand in at ever stage of creation: homegrown cotton spun into fabric; fabric dyed and cut. dress sewn by hand. Whoever the wearer was, she had that classic t-tiny waist. (And probably a really strong corset.)

This doll made me think of Ludelphia:

Love this old clock!

Most of all, I love my mama. It was so wonderful to spend some time with her. We're already making plans for a return trip, on a weekend, so we can get inside those adorable junk shops. Can't wait!

Oh, and if you happen to go: eat at The Rare Door restaurant and try the hummingbird cake. :)

IN WHICH WRITING IS LIKE PAINTING

A few years ago my friend Foster Dickson wrote a book called I JUST MAKE PEOPLE UP: RAMBLINGS WITH CLARK WALKER.

Clark is an artist from Montgomery, Alabama. I love his work. And I love his words too. Consider this:

"You could paint forever. You could paint and paint and paint on one painting for five years, and you might not even like it. But people don't know the struggle and the agony that goes into painting. Sometimes paint will come right off the end of your hand, and it'll be wonderful. And other times, you fight with it until you don't know what to do with it, and you're still pushing that brush, and you're still trying to get it to -- and it's all sort of abstract in your mind. You don't know what you're going for. At least for me, because I'm not painting any - I'm painting imaginary things, I create people and create situations. Not all the time. I have painted portraits, and I have painted the still life, but I like to invent, I just make people up. To make the world the way I want it."

YES.

It's a gorgeous book. Thank you, Foster, for taking the time to record an important story. And to you, Clark, for telling it!

WHAT TO SAY ABOUT RUBY?

She's 8 months old now. Loves to play fetch and patrol the yard. Barks at thunder. Plays with our cat Maggie. Wags her little nub tail. Leaps and flips and bounces with that long, lithe body. Chews and digs and licks.

She's the perfect dog. Really. And today, for Poetry Friday, I'm writing a poem about her.

Don't forget to visit Mary Lee at a Year of Reading for Roundup!

COMPASSION IS THE KEY

This month in one of my most favorite magazines, there's an article by Larry Gallagher called The Compassion Instinct.

Gallagher reports on research that shows that people who can develop the ability
"to feel the pain of others via compassion can lower stress levels."

Turns out, there's also a direct relationship between people's reported happiness and their ability to practice compassion.

So how do you practice compassion?

The article suggests using an internal dialogue taken from Resurfacing: Techniques for Exploring Consciousness by Harry Parmer (Star's Edge Creations)

Look at a person on the street or across the room or behind the counter and remind yourself that that person is just like you:

He or she is looking for happiness

is trying to avoid suffering

has experienced hardship

and is trying to meet his or her needs.

Say to yourself: "JUST LIKE ME, THIS PERSON IS LEARNING ABOUT LIFE."

When you feel slighted or hurt or put out, it's good to remember that for the most part, we're all doing the best we can. Which means that sometimes we are going to mess up and cause injury. It happens. Better to move forward with that sense of understanding than to blame or wallow or resent.

Anyone else out there feeling your stress level dropping at this very moment?

ME AND HARRY POTTER

Some facts:

The only Harry Potter book I've read is HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE.

I enjoyed it and especially thought that first chapter was something to strive for in my own writing. (I mean, The Boy Who Lived ?? How awesome is that??)

But. It felt too complicated to me, with too many characters and plot lines. (I like a simple story.) So I did not continue on with the series.

I did, however, buy the books for my children.

Unfortunately, like mother, like sons. None of them read past the first book.

For the third boy (who hates to read ANY book), I bought an audio version. The British accent and language had him boucing around like he'd been bee-stung before we finished chapter one.

So I donated the audio version to the school library and sold off the rest of the books on ebay.

Fast forward to summer 2011: my sweet friend Lori who is a major Harry Potter fan invited me to go to the midnight showing of DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 2.

I declined and confessed to being horribly behind on books AND movies -- having only seen the first one. And then I thought, hmmm, no better time to remedy the situation than with the final installment due in just weeks.

So my husband and I decided to do a Harry Potter movie marathon (which for us means a movie a night, because, we have this tendency to, shhh, FALL ASLEEP), and Lori oh so thoughtfully and generously offered to allow us to borrow her copies of the films.

And now I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HOW THIS THING WRAPS UP! I feel completely invested in these characters and am confident I've got the plot lines straight in my head and certainly have my own hopes/suspicions about what's to come.

Plus the trailer makes me teary-eyed.

And to think I've only really known these characters for a week. I can only imagine how all those uber-fans are feeling as this series comes to a close. Sadness and happiness all entertwined.

Here's the trailer in case you've missed it:


I won't be at the midnight opening-night showing, but we WILL get to it this weekend. Can't wait. And I'd love to hear about YOUR relationship with Harry, if you're willing to spill!

SUMMER IS A REVOLVING DOOR

Tomorrow I will pick up two boys from camp(where online pics reveal they've had all kinds of fun), and deliver the third to a bus that will take him and his cross country teammates to a distance running camp in North Carolina.

I love the ever-changing days of summer because they bear no resemblance to the monotonous school year.

I'm just sad that it's disappearing so quickly. Just one month from today is the first day of school for one of mine.

One month!

Makes me want to plan some home-stretch adventures.

So. My summer is a revolving door. For Poetry Friday, I challenge you to come up with a metaphor for YOUR summer!

And don't forget to visit Roundup at Wild Rose Reader.

A FEW THOUGHTS ON MOTHERHOOD (FOR CASEY ANTHONY)

Debra's post at Four Angels Momma on the Casey Anthony verdict made me want to write a post of my own.

First, I should admit that I haven't followed the court case AT ALL. I try to avoid news as a general rule, but I do read the headlines on my internet home page. Sometimes I even click through for more details.

I haven't done that once with the Casey Anthony trial.

I don't know if she had any part in her daughter's death and can't speak of evidence or lack thereof.

All I know is that a child's life ended too soon and for no reason.

I also know that I have always considered motherhood to be one of the greatest blessings in my life. Like Debra, I cannot imagine waiting 31 days to report my child as missing. Most moms I know are super-caring and take the task of motherhood very seriously. They make sacrifices, they do the best they can to meet the needs of their children -- many times placing those needs above their own individual needs.

There are all sorts of ways to do motherhood right, so many paths to being a responsible parent raising responsible children. We all put our individual stamp on it, and that stamp shifts and changes as we learn and grow and the needs of our children change.

I've always believed that motherhood is the most important thing I will ever do in my life. Motherhood is my opportunity to make a difference in the world. Like the bumper sticker says, MOTHERHOOD IS SACRED.

And this is not to say that those who aren't mothers don't have their own important life journeys and opportunities. I just know motherhood is mine. I am so very grateful for the experience -- hardships and all.

And so I'm sad today for that little girl who will never grow up. And I'm sad for Casey Anthony's mother (and father) too. Look at what they have endured in the name of parenthood. So much grief.

INDEPENDENCE: ONE OF MY FAVORITE WORDS

Why, you ask?

It's an "I" word, like Irene, so that's cool.

And hello, colonialism?? Not for me.

FREEDOM, baby. That's what I'm talking about! I like to make my own choices.

Hope your 4th of July is filled with things that make you happy.

And if you need a good YES story, check out my post at SmackDab in the Middle entitled "When YES is Not Quite Fireworks." (The monthly theme is on our biggest YES moments during the publication journey. Good stuff!)

TWO NOVELS IN VERSE ON MY NIGHTSTAND

Question for those who love words:

Is there a better name than novels in verse for these books with short lines that may or may not be poetry?

There MUST be.

Would love to hear your thoughts. Because I adore books in this format. But I think "novel in verse" sets the expectation for poetry. And I don't think many novels in verse actually ARE poetry. Nor do they need to be.

And really, if you want to chase the mainstream reader away from a book, tag it with "verse" or "poetry." I'd love to see a new name emerge!

Meanwhile, here's what's waiting for me:

THE DAY BEFORE by Lisa Schroeder. Have been waiting and waiting for this one! Lisa's YA books are always so romantic... can't wait.

And SONG OF THE SPARROW by Lisa Ann Sandell. Not sure how I missed this one, but it's from 2007. And it's a take on the Arthurian legend, which I lovelovelove! VERY excited to read.

For more poetic goodness, visit Andromeda for Poetry Friday Roundup!