Then I read an oldie, BARN DANCE by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault, illus. by Ted Rand. This is a story I read to my kids over and over again many years ago, and now I'm reading it to my granddaughter and loving it just as much. Such beautiful, musical language.
Today I read ONCE UPON A MEMORY by Nina Laden and illus. by Renata Liwska. I'm trying to cut words and this is a brilliantly written story with a very low word count. Nice to see how it's done.
Then I read an oldie, BARN DANCE by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault, illus. by Ted Rand. This is a story I read to my kids over and over again many years ago, and now I'm reading it to my granddaughter and loving it just as much. Such beautiful, musical language.
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Sitting on the couch this morning, trying to decide which story I want to write next, and two separate ideas I've been playing with for awhile collide. Two very different stories. One funny, one sad. One light, one heavy. One about life, one about death. And I realized they were the same story.
Isn't it amazing how our brains work? Give them color and emotions and words and experiences, let them stir it all around for awhile, and then see what they've put together. See what beauty they've found hidden in the darkness, what hope they've found on the other side of despair. My poor brain has to do this work while my body floods it with anxiety and depression. But it does it anyway. Down in the dark, humming along, just waiting for a break in the clouds. And then it shines. And I get to bask in the glow of a wonderful, warm story idea just waiting for me to put it on paper. I do love this job, and somehow, I need to find a way to remember this feeling when the clouds come back. Peace, Chris Today Alice and I read John Agee's delightful story, "It's Only Stanley." Written in rhyme so good you don't realize it IS rhyme until you are a couple of pages in, this book is a delight to read. And while the story itself is wonderful all on its own, the illustrations tell a separate but equally funny story themselves. Alice particularly liked seeing what would happen to the cat next. And Stanley may just be Gromit's (of Wallace and Gromit fame) cousin. Another full "Cheese!" smile from Alice.
On Friday, Alice and I read LITTLE TREE, by Loren Long. This is a deceptively simple story of a young tree who doesn't want to let go of his leaves in the fall. So, "He just hugged his leaves tight." But problems can occur when you don't let go of the past, and Little Tree discovers this and overcomes in the most satisfying way.
The first time I read through this book I was entertained. Then I started thinking about what I had just read. This is a beautifully, lyrically written story for very young children about the necessity of letting go of the past to move forward. Wow! Deep stuff for toddlers. But of course, Alice got it on the first read through. When we read the line "And then he let go." Alice lit up with a huge grin and chortled, "Now he can grow!" Alice gave this book a full CHEESE! smile. I've been doing more research and reading of blogs and writing tips than writing lately. Not that that is a bad thing. But I'm thinking I need to get back to writing something new and exciting. Something that keeps me up at night because I can't stop thinking about it. I even have some new ideas I'm excited about, thanks to completing PiBOIdMo. I'm just having a really hard time getting started on on anything.
My problem stems, in part, because I'm waiting to hear back from an agent on a story submission. A portion of my brain has a permanent loop running with the possible conversations I could have with this person and that loop is taking up a lot of the space I would normally use for story creation. Of course, the research I've been doing tells me I'm supposed to submit, forget about it, and go back to writing. Which I would love to do, but, lets face it, I'm not wired that way. I can't forget about it. And then the agent followed me on Twitter. Good grief. What does THAT mean? Is this person checking out my platform? Will it pass muster? Should I change/edit/post/update my status/blog/FB/Twitter feed? Is my photo good enough, my profile witty, my name searchable? Sigh. I am a writer who really wants to be a published author. Wants it badly enough that I am pushing my comfort zone by joining all these social media sites and participating in conferences and critiques and writing challenges. I'm going on writing retreats and learning to pay attention when the muse whispers in my ear. I'm learning the business of writing and publishing. I know I need these pieces to make it. But I miss writing. So, as my gift to myself for Christmas, I'm going to try and block out the noise, and write something I love. Instead of starting the day with FB and Twitter and all the blogs, I will start it with an American chicken in France. A raindrop suspended in a cloud over Mt. Hood. A tractor worrying about the weather. Because I need to remember why I'm doing this. Because I need to do what I love. Because that is what will ultimately get me to my dream: Published Author. Peace, Chris I’ve been writing picture books for about two years straight, now, and the flood of ideas in my brain is finally receding. Just in time for PIcture BOok Idea Month. PiBoIdMo. One idea a day for the entire month of November. How fun is this going to be?! My job (This is so much fun for me, it’s absolutely ridiculous to call it work, but that is what I get to do.) will be to think up a new idea for a kid’s story. Each day. I can even write a first draft if I want. (I WANT!)
Registration is tomorrow. Ideas start going on paper November first. Now. For a little insider information, I have some stuff going on in November and I’m really wondering how they will affect my idea process. First off, I’m getting a colonoscopy done at the beginning of the month. No scary reason for it, I’ve just reached that special age. Picture book idea here? Who the heck knows! There will be drugs involved, so I’m not ruling anything out. Then, half way through the month, I get to go watch my son’s fiancee pick out a wedding dress. Ruffly dresses and tiaras. What could possibly come out of THAT, right? And finally, I will be spending a week in the south of France at a writing retreat right before Thanksgiving. Travel. Different culture, food, language. A WEEK TO DO NOTHING BUT WRITE! Yeah, I might be able to come up with a few ideas. It’s time to refill the reservoir. Lets hope November is a torrential month. Peace, Chris Every so often, no matter how well the writing is going, I start to wonder if I'm any good at this thing I'm doing. I re-read some of my stories and they sound faded, the rhythm off, the plot trite. Only a few of the agents or editors I've submitted to have gotten back to me, and so far the answer is NO. And they're the professionals. Wouldn't they have snapped these babies up by now if they were as good as I think they are?
Luckily, there are a couple of things I've learned, now that I've been at this for a few years. 1. This feeling will pass. The next time I get a phrase just right. The next time I get a story onto the page and it all comes together. The next time I fall in love with a character who climbs out of my brain. And then the honeymoon is back on. And I'm dreaming of the dream writer/agent/publisher cooperative effort that ends with the best Picture Book ever. It's a great dream. It will be a great real life when the time is right. 2. I'll keep at it anyway. I love writing for the sake of writing. Period. Yes, I'd love to get published. But I will keep writing no matter what happens. Writing makes me whole. It calms the monsters, it lights up the dark, it colors in the black. It is my life. Now, back to the mediocre, clunky first draft. I've got some polishing to do. (Not to mention some attitude adjustment.) Peace, Chris I want to start another story in the Tractor series about Farm Truck, but I haven't been able to think of a story for him. Then this morning, as I was sorting through old photos, I came across this one: "Into the ditch the Farm Truck falls....." THIS is how you take spilled strawberries and make sugary jam out of them.
Peace, Chris I just finished a revision on a story that has been shouting this at me. I'm not a morning person but I was out of bed and writing at 5:am the last couple of mornings trying to get this baby calmed down.
And now I'm sitting on the couch, dog keeping my feet warm, tears of happiness running down my face. Why? Because I love this. Because I have found my heart's desire. Because writing is like breathing and I'm gulping pure oxygen. The story I am working on comes from a very cold, very scary, very dark time in my life. But the story is warm and fearless and bright. It is my love song to life. Peace, Chris You know how they say, "When you dream in a language you are learning, you know you have learned it." What does it mean when you are learning to write in rhyme and you start dreaming in rhyme? (Other than the obvious - you will wake up tireder than when you fell asleep.)
Twice recently I've woken up with a ghost of a rhyme in my head. I have no idea if the stories are any good. I have no idea if it is even a story I am dreaming! But my impression is that the rhymes were good and my brain aches from the effort of making every sentence follow the same beat and rhyme at the end. I'm starting to feel like a local. Peace, Chris |
Chris Regier
While I was busy living my life, stories were building up in my head. Its time to let them out. Categories
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