I IS FOR INNOVATION

art by Jeanne Rhea

Shhh.... here's a secret well-known in the marketing world that is completely applicable in the writing world:

DIFFERENT is more important than BETTER.

Unusual narrators, graphic novels, novels in verse or text-ese, books that include an online component... This is only part of what I'm talking about.

Maybe your book is just a book, more of a tried and true romance/mystery/thriller/whatever. Well, guess what? You can still be different. You just have to think of it in these terms:

What can your book give the reader than no other book can?

Maybe it's an emotional experience, a trip to an unusual time or place, or the situation is different -- boy raised by antelope (instead of wolves or graveyard ghosts) or girl wants more than anything to BE a mermaid (instead of, say, a vampire).

You get the idea. Innovation. Write a book that's different, or at least sell it as such. Then, if you keep working really hard, the "better" will follow.

WHICH SANDWICH ARE YOU?

In honor of Jillian, who hopefully as of tonight is a Bachelorette no longer, I wanted to share this tasty little bit of insight into just who you are.

See, Jillian, had a hotdog theory. I can't remember what it was exactly, except the fact that Jason like mustard AND ketchup was a positive thing. What kind of hotdogs her two finalists like? Dunno.

But SANDWICHES... now there's something that happens a lot around here.

So, real quick, make your pick:
The Club
Ham and Cheese
Turkey
Tuna Salad
Egg Salad
Chicken Salad
Seafood Salad
BLT

Got it? Now go here to find out what your personality is like. Because, yeah, you don't already know that information. But wait, there's a compatibility quiz too... in case your on the prowl like Jillian.

Me? Ummmm... ham and cheese. Toasted. Would love to hear yours!

MY WEEK IN SEVEN WORDS

POISON IVY
Rumor has it that I was conceived while both my parents had poison ivy... so I blame them for the awful reaction I have the stuff. (Not sweet Mario, with whom I was walking in the woods.)

PREDNISONE=PRODUCTIVITY

Okay, that stuff totally hypes me up! Managed to clock in around 25 writing hours this past week and am THISCLOSE to dashing TELL ME poetry manuscript off to agent.

GUESTS ARE GREAT

Had young friends Alexandra and Peter come to play and historic friend Pam (who I first met in childbirth classes lo many years ago) come through town on her way to her 25th high school reunion. Took her to Ms. Rosemarie's Special Teas and Vulcan and WalMart. Yes, we are THAT cool.

THE ART OF THE REVEAL

Okay, so Alabama Writers Conclave was a huge success thanks to SO many great folks. Unfortunately, because I was so involved in the planning/making it happen part, I didn't get to attend many of the actual writing sessions. Which is why I was especially pleased when the timing was right for me to sit in on Thomas Lakeman's "The Art of the Reveal."

I had heard wonderful things about Thomas, author of The Shadowcatchers, Chillwater Cove and the new Broken Wing. Thrillers aren't usually my thing, but oh can we learn from them! In fact, I learned more in one hour with Thomas than [insert super-cool analogy here, just as soon as brain gets un-fried from conference]. And he offered this little gem for those of us who occasionally find ourselves in front of a crowd:

"As long as I sing, people feel like they've gotten their money's worth."

Yes, he sang! (A bit of Mozart from the film Amadeus, which I had to watch again last night, just because he reminded me of how great it was.)

AND then...

Thomas tap danced!! (To demonstrate a point about pacing -- how the rookie mistake is to push so hard with ActionActionAction that the reader doesn't have a chance to b-r-e-a-t-h-e.... yes, we all clap when the tap dancer STOPS.)

Seriously, this guy is awesome. And he will be back at Conclave next year to tackle Screenwriting. I am SO there!

POETRY FRIDAY

Becky Laney has Roundup at Becky's Book Reviews. My contribution is this one, by one of my most favorite poets... would love to hear your answer to the question in the last line:

The Summer Day

Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

DOG DAYS, OR CHRISTMAS IN JULY

So the wee writing retreat was awesome. Pat Weaver, Hostest with the Mostest can cook some a-maze-ing chicken fingers. And don't get me started on her biscuits and chocolate gravy.

Yes, you heard that right: CHOCOLATE GRAVY. I wanted to ask her for the recipe, but I think maybe I better not. You know -- opportunity being the root of crime and all. YUM.

Aside from the writing, here we are (along with Pat's adorable grandkids) having fun at THE WALL:






And if that wasn't enough, I came home with a Writing Puppy, complete with very cute verse written by Pat herself. Sweet, huh?



Then there's THIS guy. Throwaway dog that Pat rescued and named Patch. Throwaway dog that now has a new name (MARIO) and a new home and a new boy (ERIC) who is absolutely in love with him.



Yep, go to Pat's house, and you just never know what you're going to come home with.
Thanks, Ladies!!! It was fun!

JULY JUMPSTART

So this morning I had to break out the jumper cables to help my father get on the road -- he left his cellphone in the lighter-thingy to charge, and it completely drained the life from his truck.

The good news it gave us just a few more minutes together. The bad news is now he is miles and miles away.

Tomorrow I will be miles and miles away myself, as I am heading for a wee writing retreat with some wonderful folks in Florence, Alabama.

Hmmm, what to work on? Now that I have dashed off the historical women poetry series to various readers, I am caught in a little lull... so I'm thinking I will get started on a New Idea I partially drafted during the 26 hour drive back from South Dakota. I'll let you know!

Meanwhile, happy writing to all, and happy summer -- I am aware of how fleeting it is whenever I look at the calendar and realize the kids will be back to school in one month. That's it! One month! Then it's back to packing lunches and homework battles and enforced bedtime. Sigh.

WHEN YOUR MOTHER'S IN THE AUDIENCE

Big thanks to Keith Badowski and Ron Self from THE BIG TABLE POETS!

So last night was especially wonderful because my mother was in the audience, and that doesn't happen all that often. But it was strange, too -- I worried that she might be bored by the whole thing, and I was a little bit self-conscious when I read a poem that was kind of sexy... oh, the power of mothers.

For her part, Mom seemed super pleased and proud to be sharing the experience. And it was especially touching because I was wearing a dress she made for me, a black dress, after a poem I wrote for her entitled "The Black Dress," about love and how sometimes we learn about love too late.

And then there was this: as we were leaving, one of the guys in our group said to my mom, "thank you for giving us Irene." And as a mom, I thought, is there any better thing one could say to a mother?? More importantly, I am so lucky to have been born to this woman.

HAVE POEMS, WILL TRAVEL

So tomorrow The Big Table Poets of Birmingham travel to Columbus, Georgia, to share great words with a wonderful poetry group headed up by Keith Badowski, who blogs at There Goes the Top of My Head about books and poetry and life in general. Check him out, because he is one of those very giving souls who does a lot to support the written work of others... and that alone makes him a hero of sorts, don't you think?

While in Columbus, we are planning to visit with dear person/writer friend Doraine Bennett, who blogs at Dori Reads , as well as check out the new National Infantry Museum and perhaps grab a bite to eat at the Fife and Drum restaurant.

My little drummer boy who will make a gun out of ANYTHING is beside himself with anticipation.

I'm still deciding what I'll read... perhaps a couple of war poems?? Will let you know!

H IS FOR HAUNTED

Okay, I'm not talking paranormal here, although clearly that is a most popular genre. I'm speaking about the writer, how it helps to pursue those subjects or characters that haunt you.

Come on, you know what I'm talking about... the ones who keep you up at night. The ones you have secret conversations with. The ones that just seem to keep on popping up no matter how hard you try to dismiss them.

For a while, all my ghosts seemed to come from Gee's Bend, Alabama. So instead of fighting it, I invited them in for sweet iced tea, asked them to take off their shoes and warm their toes in front of the fire. And then I wrote down everything they said.

So if you're struggling with which story to pursue, pay attention to those ghosts. They can be really good company. Once you get past your fear.

QUILT THIS!

I am just back from Birmingham Quilters Guild QUILTFEST 2009, where visitors were greeted by this sight:



Insides we saw quilts with stars



and pinwheels



and flowers



and words...



round ones



and ones sewn into other useful shapes.



Talk about a feast for the senses... I am totally inspired! Well done, quilters!

G IS FOR GOOD ENOUGH

Probably one of the biggest problems you can have as a writer is a bent toward perfectionism. That sounds wrong, doesn't it? Let me explain.

A perfectionist works and reworks the first sentence (or first chapter) over and over and over again, fiddling with this word and that... meanwhile, the rest of the novel never gets written.

A perfectionist is so invested in those worked and reworked words that he or she cannot let go of them when an editor or critiquer comes along and says, "snip snip."

A perfectionist may have a way more beautiful first chapter than I do, but, honey, I've got a whole book.

So let go of that idea of perfect words. Writing is the ultimate process. Growth is continuous. But you've got to reach a point where you say, "good enough" and let that baby fly. Otherwise you're going to be in the same spot forever. And how boring would that be??

Besides, imperfection doesn't make a thing less beautiful. Just look at the picture above... adds character, right? :)

WHY RICHARD PECK IS AWESOME

Okay, this could be a very long post, because I have long been a fan of Richard Peck's. And I am not alone: he's a much-loved genuine classic.

Here's the reason he's awesome today: he blurbed my book!

"Ludelphia Bennett reaffirms the human spirit and defines survival in the beautifully stitched quilt of a novel."

- Richard Peck, A SEASON OF GIFTS

Now excuse me while I go buy even more copies of Peck's books.... starting with the newest, newest, available in September.

POETRY FRIDAY

Today's roundup is being held by Brian Jung at Critique de Mr. Chompchomp. Go check it out!

And here's my contribution, in honor of the South Dakota trip -- a poem from an anthology entitled COWBOY POETRY MATTERS, edited by Robert McDowell, which we picked up at a great little used bookstore on the main drag in Custer.

Cowboy poetry is not just all about riding the range. There's some really wonderful poems included here. Like this one:

Ashes, After Fire

by Andy Wilkinson

I've seen the bluestem, stirrup-deep,
Become a blackened pyre,
A wasteland, buried in the heap
Of ashes, after fire.

The old, dead grass goes up in smoke,
The wind howls in the wire,
What was, is gone, deep in the cloak
Of ashes, after fire.

Yet quick, so quick, the ranges wear
Their spanking new attire,
As tender grass grows in the care
Of ashes, after fire.

Though alchemists have lost their call
Their magics still inspire
Gold seekers in the grimy pall
Of ashes, after fire.

Beautiful, isn't it? Can't you just see that prairie covered in new growth? Love it.

WHEN IN SOUTH DAKOTA (the best part)

When I was a little girl, I read and re-read the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I wanted to BE Laura, especially the Melissa Gilbert version as seen on tv. There was just something about that life that was so tied to the land, so rooted in family, that absolutely appealed to me.

And you know what? It still does.

Which is why visiting the Ingalls Homestead in DeSmet, South Dakota was such a joy. Take a look:

Here we are on the porch of Ma's little cabin.



Here's the outhouse located near the barn.



Here's Eric getting cozy with a chicken.



And here's three boys just about to break a see-saw. :)



Too bad my memory card was full at this point... but my father had plenty of room on his camera and did his best to capture the little schoolhouse, the covered wagon ride, the big slough, the sod house, the boys making rope and twisting hay, and later, a couple of miles away, the graves where Pa and Ma and Carrie and Mary are buried.

If you are a Little House fan, this is a must-see. Next on my list: Laura's Rocky Ridge Farm in Mansfield, Missouri, where she actually wrote the books!

WHEN IN SOUTH DAKOTA (part 1)

There's so much to do in this lovely state, but you might start by...

admiring the buffalo at Custer State Park



visiting presidents here (in Rapid City with John Adams)



and here.



You can also eat buffalo ribs




support Lakota artists and the Crazy Horse Memorial



and visit funky places like the Corn Palace, where yes, the place is decorated in actual pieces of corn!



But THE BEST PART I am saving for next post. :)

POETRY FRIDAY

Sara Holmes is hosting Poetry Roundup at Read Write Believe this week, so go check it out! I give you this one -- one of the first in the historical women series -- that now needs some renovation. Your thoughts welcome!

How the Sacagawea River Got Its Name

Lewis and Clark chose Sacagawea
because they loved her first
for the rise and rhythm of her voice,
the way words tumbled from her lips
like whitewater over rocks,
how her body would twist and bend,
her hair rushing like snowmelt.

The only woman on the expedition,
she mothered and nursed, guided them
as if they were her cubs, at once
protective and resigned.
They wanted to give her something
more than the Pacific Ocean,
something bigger than the whale
carcass they watched her climb into,
something more permanent than the spears
she carved for them out of bone.

They were grateful for her guidance,
for her patience with words like
aster, anemone, bell.
She understood their need to name things,
never once mocked their belief in maps,
even though she was certain
a piece of paper could not contain
a river, a hill, a grove of pine.

Sacagawea, they whispered,
hands folded as if in prayer.
The river never failed to answer.

- Irene Latham

DEAR MAMA AND RAY,

So on my mama's most recent visit, she brought me a treasure: a collection of letters she and my father wrote to her mother and stepfather (Mama and Ray) while our family was living in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, way back in the 1970's.

It's fascinating. And not just because it's about me and those I love. It's got history (we were there when King Faisal was assassinated) and it's a great record of what it's like to be young parents with four stair-step children and one on the way. And it's like stepping into another world, the way they detail daily life in Riyadh.

And now, of course, I've got a story brewing....

ARC ALERT!

So a couple of Tenners have gotten their ARCs, which is like, so super exciting!

You know what else is cool? I got my greedy little hands on this one:



What to say about it??

1. It's pink. (You noticed, didn't you.)
2. It's funny. (If you know LL, then this won't surprise you.)
3. It has IMPACT.

Yep. Read it. You'll see what I'm talking about... well done, LL!!

POETRY FRIDAY

Welcome, poetry lovers! Roundup is here... so leave your name and link and a little bit about your post in comments and I'll corral them periodically throughout the day. This little tradition has been a wonderful addition to my week... I truly believe poetry makes the world a better place, and I have so enjoyed the posts on all of your sites in recent weeks.

As for my own contribution, I give you a steamy poem I wrote after listening and listening to Norah Jones. I was so pleased and honored when it appeared in Motif: Writing by Ear. If you enjoy writings about music, this is a must-have anthology. Seriously. Excellent stuff.

After Listening to Norah Jones’ Come Away with Me

I remember your weathered
mouth at daybreak

how it disappeared
over a steaming hill
and my ears filled
with a fierce humming.

Go tend the barbed wire.

I will wait for you
on the shuck mattress
red roof unpinned
and ripening.

I will hold the heavy
bucket, fill it
with golden sagebrush
and puffs of cinnamon smoke.

You be the nightingale
and sing us a song.

- Irene Latham

Mary Lee features a cecropia moth that we found in our school garden earlier this week.

Laura has 15 Words or Less poems up.

Sara has some thoughts some puzzlement over Wallace Stevens' line "I wish that I might be a thinking stone."


Stella wrote a poem about Mother Reader's coming up event 48 Hour Reading Challenge.

Tricia has a poem by Gregory Orr.

The Write Sisters look at Write Your Own Poetry by Laura Salas.

Kurious Kitty is in with "Lost" by Carl Sandburg.

Gregory K. has a post on made up words and invites you to share yours.

Diane suggests differentiating haiku from haiku.

Andromeda has a couple or original poems for her children's teachers today.

John Mutford has favorites from Henry Reed.

Violet has an original poem on sewing (girl after my own heart!)

Blackeyed Susan shares a poem by Nita Penfold.

Color Online offers an original poem.

The Stenhouse Blog has two poems by Olivia Varner.

Kelly has an original poem.

At Wild Rose Reader, poems in limbo.

At Blue Rose Girls, a Marie Howe mother-daughter poem.

Kelly offers a Ben Jonson poem.

Ray has an original poem.

At Bildungsroman , song lyrics.

At Knocking from Inside, an original poem entitled "Mad Birds."

Janet has NPR's recession haiku and a Wendell Berry poem.

Tabatha offers haiku (and haiku-ish). Love it! :)

TS offers an original poem.

Readertotz offers Around the Green Gravel.

Lorie Ann has an orignal poem.

Mitali also has an original poem.

Karen has Billy Collins' Workshop (one of my faves!)

Serena offers an original poem.

Liz's poem has gone to the DOGS!

Chicken Spaghetti shares a Mark Doty poem.

Jill shares an original acrostic poem.

Julie's got an original sonnet. !!

Susan shares an original award-winning poem.

Erin shares an original "california" poem.

Sherrie shares an interview with Thalia Chaltas, author of verse novel BECAUSE I AM FURNITURE.

Sarah has a (not autobiographical) original poem. :)

Jennie shares a review of I HEART YOU, YOU HAUNT ME by Lisa Schroeder.

Sylvia is in with a review of COME TO THE CASTLE (and a contest -go see!!)

Bri shares a William Carlos Williams poem and a link to other poems inspired by art.

PROJECT FOR THE DAY

Today I am using this pattern


and this fabric



and this woman (my mama) whom I love so very much



to create something beautiful.

It's the little things, isn't it??

RECENT READS

HOW I LIVE NOW by Meg Rosoff: I'm a little late jumping onto this bandwagon, but I love the voice in this one. Also the love story. It'll break your heart.

WATER STREET by Crystal Wilkinson: These are inter-related short stories, and I loved them. Isn't there always a story behind the story?? This book tells both the surface stories we show our neighbors and the really deep stories we sometimes aren't even quite aware of ourselves. I would love to write a book of short stories in a similar vein (kind of like Paul Fleischman did with SEEDFOLKS).

THE FOREST OF HANDS AND TEETH by Carrie Ryan: Zombie apocalyse stories are not usually my thing, but this book held my attention in spite of that particular detail. It really is all about the characters. I was rooting for Mary the whole way down those creepy trails.

SHINE COCONUT MOON by Neesha Meminger: I love a book that introduces me to a new world, and this one sure did. The best part was discovering it WITH the main character. I think we all struggle with this "who am I?" issue at multiple points in life... good stuff.

THE WELL AND THE MINE by Gin Phillips: This one is set in Birmingham 1930's West Jefferson County, Alabama, which, of course, is coal mining country. And with my book LEAVING GEE'S BEND also being set in 1930's Alabama, I was particularly interested in this story. What I found was that the coal mining families in Gin's book weren't nearly as impoverished as the sharecropper families in Gee's Bend. I am really looking forward to July when Gin presents "Making History Come Alive" and delivers the keynote at Alabama Writers Conclave.

IF THE LEGENDS FADE by Tom Hendrix: Now here is a fascinating tale. Young native American girl marched off to the Indian Nations in Oklahoma then escapes and walks for five years to get back to the place where the river sings (Tennessee River in Florence, Alabama).

What's next? Oh, the list is very long. But I think it will be THE HELP by Kathryn Stockett. I've heard good things... I'll let you know.

POETRY FRIDAY

My mind is just full of poetry after Kentucky, and I am devoting Poetry Friday to polishing up some pieces to take with me to next workshop.

Meanwhile, here is my contribution to Poetry Friday, another in the historical women series that appears in EINSTEIN AT THE ODEON CAFE. Be sure to check out Poetry Friday Roundup hosted by Susan Taylor Brown at Susan Writes.

Picasso’s Widow Ends Her Life

It seemed a river of crimson ran
even before Jacqueline fired the gun --

the wild roses that once climbed the trellis
now spilled across the kitchen tile

and bloomed on the carpet in the next room.
In the beginning they loved with the purity

of sunlight and slept with child-like abandon,
but love finds its true voice in time.

Without him her skin fell into blue lines,
her eyes were shattered by ghosts,

her neck and arms plundered by those
innocent of the simple faith

of women who choose to love the unfaithful.
He was good to me, she thought,

just before she pulled the trigger.
He painted me with flowers.

- Irene Latham

I HEART KENTUCKY

Just back from The Gathering at Greenbo Lake State Park in northeast Kentucky.

Gorgeous, I tell you.

And the artists, writers, musicians I had the privilege and honor to meet and share space with... generous, amazing talented folks. Now I've got mountain music going all through my brain thanks to Kate Larkin and Sue Massek and Silas House and many others. Wonderful, wonderful. Don't have better words for it quite yet.

And now it's just one more day of school till summer vacation. My kids are busy planning all the things they are going to do with all that sweet time. Do I ever remember what that's like...

POETRY FRIDAY

I am loving this Poetry Friday thing! I love reading other people's words and what they have to say about other people's words. Check out the Round Up here.

And here is my contribution -- another in the historical women series that appears in EINSTEIN AT THE ODEON CAFE. Ever wondered what a ship might say??

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

F IS FOR FRESH

It’s what we all want: something fresh. And yes, perhaps it is true that every story has already been told. But obviously we like those stories or we wouldn’t keep reading and writing them! So the key is to take an old idea and put a new spin on it. Make it new and exciting. Make it your own. And that, precisely, is where things get imprecise. Because there is no recipe for fresh. It just is. And editors (and readers) know it when they read it.

But. There is a way to open up those fresh channels in the old noggin. The first is to quit being lazy -- don’t lean on tired clichés. Even in your daily writing - your email to your best friend or your notes to self -- make it fresh.

And when you’re feeling stale, go out and have a fresh experience. Go to a park or exhibit. Try a new food or store of drive to work. Read on a subject you’ve never read before. Play with perspective -- look at a rose under a magnifying glass, then admire the whole garden from a second story window. Put that mind to work making new connections. Your writing will be fresh as a result.

This post is a continuation of my series of Author ABC's. Click on tag to view A is for Agent, B is for Beginnings, C is for Change, D is for Danger, E is for Everyman.

Oh! And speaking of fresh, check out 5th generation Alabamian Ginger's interview of me at Deep Fried Kudzu! Lots of yummy recipes there too....

AVONDALE ART FEAST

You know what's great about spring? All the art shows!



I had a blast with son Eric and artist Liz Reed in the children's tent where we helped young artists draw flowers and fruit and ducks.



Of course Eric had to be different and drew something really special. Check out his rendering of Regalia, the underground city in his current fave book GREGOR THE OVERLANDER by Suzanne Collins. Now you KNOW a book is good when it can inspire something as detailed as this!



And how sweet is this little family?



ART, I tell you...