Since a central theme of LOVE IS KIND is spreading love and kindness, for this last stop on my blog tour, Darlene Beck Jacobson asked me to reflect on three acts of kindness that have touched me as a picture book author. However, as I pondered which to choose, one stood out from the rest. It’s one that I’ve been wanting to honor for a long time, but wasn’t sure how. So thank you, Darlene, for asking me to write this post because, as it turns out, this was exactly the “how” I was looking for. So, dear readers, grab a cup of tea – and some tissues – and head on over. I’ll make it easy. Here’s the link.
Tomorrow I’ll be sharing LOVE IS KIND at a special Grandparents’ Day Celebration at a local preschool. It’s a lovely pairing of story and celebration because one of the themes of LOVE IS KIND is the specialness of the bond that children have with their grandparents. Indeed, it’s Little Owl’s love for Grammy that sets the story in motion… and it’s Grammy’s love for him that brings the story to a cozy resolution.
Here’s a sweet glimpse of that bond in a special clip illustrator Lison Chaperon made to celebrate LOVE IS KIND:
I love that Little Owl and his grammy have such a sweet relationship, because it reminds me of the special bond I shared with each of my grandmothers. I didn’t call either of them Grammy, but I most certainly shared a special connection with each that I treasure to this day.
I called my paternal grandmother “Nana”and she taught me what unconditional love looks and feels like. I will always associate the sweet scent of chocolate chip cookies with her and have fond memories of sitting beside her as she did her daily crossword puzzle. She showed love in quiet, gentle ways – through hand-made gifts like crocheted throws and homemade dresses- and just quietly being. We always knew she loved us no matter what.
I called my maternal grandmother “Mymommie” because as a small child, when my mother referred to her as “Mommie” I got confused and would always say, “You?” To this my mother would smile and answer, “No, my mommie!” and the name stuck. Unlike Nana who was so quiet and gentle, Mymommie was more of the outgoing, life of the party type. From her, I learned what it looked and sounded like to be poised and articulate. She was also a voracious reader and wonderful storyteller and I like to think that I got my love of story from her.
Though both have passed away, I still feel a special bond to them, for in their own ways, they each helped me to become the grown up I am now. How special was their influence?
Special enough that I decided to dedicate LOVE IS KIND to their memories. Thank you, Mymommie and Nana, for instilling in me a love for life and an appreciation of the gift of love.
If you have the chance to read LOVE IS KIND either as a grandparent reading with your grandchild or as a grandchild reading with your grand, I hope you will each take a moment to let each other know just how special you are to each other.
Happy Reading, all!
P.S. For those of you unfamiliar with the National Grandparents Day, it was officially designated as the first Sunday after Labor Day in 1978 by President Jimmy Carter. You can learn more about the day here.
As Fernando, Delores and I head out for a special “Muffins with Mom” tea and storytime at a local preschool today, I find myself feeling a little sentimental about my own mom, whose birthday would have been tomorrow. She was an artist and an inspiration to me in all things, including how to live a good life despite difficult circumstances.
She never got to see DIVA DELORES AND THE OPERA HOUSE MOUSE in final book form, but she did encourage me to keep working on it during the early drafting stage and I know she’s up there cheering me on.
And today, in a way, I, too, will be bringing my mom to “Muffins with Mom” for I will be wearing the special pin my sister and dad had made featuring her signature bird. ❤️
Happy Mother’s Day (almost) to all! And don’t forget to give your mom a hug, if she’s still around, and tell her how much you love her!
As a mom, wife, author and, for the past two years, homeschool teacher to my daughter, I continually feel like I have a lot on my plate. Don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful for the plate set before me. I rejoice that I have the honor of receiving this plate so full of blessing and purpose. Still, managing everything on the plate sometimes feels like a lot. That’s why I’ve made a practice of beginning each day by lifting that plate up in prayer.
My prayer each morning is that each portion I’ve been given gets its proper amount of attention and that I don’t avoid the peas! Peas are my least favorite vegetable and on a real plate, especially as a kid, they were the portion that I always pushed aside. On my symbolic daily plate, the peas are those tasks and to-dos that, for whatever reason, I avoid. But, boy oh boy, does it feel good when I actually eat those peas instead of mushing them under the potatoes or squeezing them off to one side.
Indeed, something wonderful happens when I eat those peas. First, I usually discover that they don’t taste as bad as I thought they would. Second, without the peas, my daily plate is suddenly less cluttered which means I have more room to tend to the other portions – including my writing. And writing, for me, is portion of the plate that keeps everything else in balance. Third, removing those peas opens up space on the plate for the unexpected – like the surprise asparagus or spinach I spotted at the farmer’s market… i.e. the spur of the moment invitation to grab a cup of coffee with an old friend or opportunity help a neighbor (or stranger) in need!
So, what about you? What peas have you been pushing around on your plate? Wouldn’t it feel great if today you just ate them so that your plate could open up for the other good portions you’ve been given this day? Try it… I think you’ll find it tastes good.
Happy Monday, all!
Look what landed on my porch today. Six copies of the Korean edition of GOODNIGHT, ARK! The illustrations by Jane Chapman are just as gorgeous as ever and the text looks wonderful. What a delightful experience it is to see my words translated not only into a different language, but into a different language with such a beautiful alphabet. My next goal is to see if one of my Korean-speaking friends will read it to me. Story time, anyone? And will it still rhyme, I wonder? I will find out and let you know.
In the meantime, keep sailing, Noah and friends. First English, then German, then Korean. What language next?
Thursday night out of the blue, while on Facebook, I was “waved” at by my ninth grade English teacher. I’d never been “waved” at before, but it seemed fun, so I “waved” back and then she sent me a “thumbs up”. This teacher and I reconnected on Facebook a couple of years ago when she commented on a mutual friend’s post and I decided I wanted to reach out to thank her for the profound influence she had in fostering my love of writing. Indeed, Mrs. Rebholz was the first teacher to encourage me not to settle for the first thought that crossed my mind during discussion or when writing, but to “keep percolating” as she called it. I’ve written a couple of posts about the influence her challenge to “keep percolating” has had on my writing. You can find those here and here. But I digress.
After our friendly “wave”, I decided, on impulse, to ask her if she was in contact with another special teacher from my Valley View Junior High days. Earlier last year, I had attempted to get in contact with this teacher, but without success. Now, here suddenly, was a new opportunity. Full of hope, I sent her this inquiry via Facebook message:
“Are you ever in touch with Shirley Vaux? She taught creative writing and I had her in eighth grade. I kept a creative journal for her in that class which I still have. I would love to reconnect with her if she remembers me. Is she on Facebook?”
Her answer stunned me. “Her funeral was today. She would have loved to know your success. Keep percolating.”
Saddened that I had waited too long to say thank you, and a little in disbelief over the sorrowful news, I quickly googled “Shirley Vaux obituary MN” and, sure enough, there it was in the Star Tribune. As I read the obituary, I marveled at what a remarkable woman Shirley Vaux was. Not only did she teach English for years and years, but she was also (long after I graduated) the principal of my high school. And I could tell by the obituary, that she was a beloved wife, companion, sister, mother, grandmother, and even great-grandmother.
Overcome with emotion, I decided, again on impulse, to leave a comment using the newspaper’s comment function. This is what I wrote:
“I was just tonight asking Carolyn Rebholz, who I reconnected with via Facebook, if she was in touch with Mrs. Vaux, as I wanted to reach out and thank her for the wonderful creative foundation she helped set in place for my future writing endeavors. Alas, I was just a few days too late. She was a gifted teacher and beautiful soul. I still have (and treasure) the creative journal she had us keep in her eighth grade creative writing class. Blessings to her family.”
But now, as I’ve been percolating over the whole situation, I realize I want to remember her more fully. And the way I want to honor her memory today – is by saying THANK YOU for being one of the best teachers a young, tentative writer could have!
I had the privilege of having Mrs. Shirley Vaux for a one semester creative writing class in the spring of my eighth grade year. Over the course of the semester, Mrs. Vaux opened the channels of imagination and wordplay for her students. We wrote poems, character sketches, short stories and even picture books. But the assignment that forever shaped who I have become as a writer was her introduction of a writer’s journal. Each day for eight weeks, we were to keep a daily writer’s journal because good writers, as she explained, needed space to write freely and explore.
This is the journal I chose to use. Over the course of the next eight weeks, I diligently wrote in it every day. And those moments of writing were the best moments of each day. I couldn’t wait to write! I wrote about my memories of living France. I captured snippets of conversations on the school bus. I experimented with free verse. And each week, Mrs. Vaux, diligently and lovingly read each entry and responded! With comments like these… and these.
And after the eight weeks ended, I kept writing. I’m not kidding. By the end of high school, I had filled this many journals….
by the end of college, this many…
by the end of my first eight years of teaching this many…
by the time my children were school age, this many…
and to date… this many!
And when I stopped teaching to raise my family, I started submitting stories and poems to magazines. Lots and lots of magazines.. a whole thick binder of clippings worth! And then I delved into picture books with first one… then two…then three… with one more due out at the end of next year… with hopefully more after that!
Dear Mrs. Vaux, I am so sorry that I missed the chance to thank you for the special role you played in getting this ball rolling. But now, I hope, that perhaps by posting this, your loved ones can know, as indeed they must already know, what a special person you were!
THANK YOU, Mrs. Vaux and rest in beautiful peace.
(Please share, if you are so moved, in the hopes that Shirley Vaux’s loved ones will know that – near and far – she is remembered fondly and with great respect.)
A special part of my recent trip to England was spending time with a friend who recently moved to London with her husband and three adorable daughters. My day with Charise began with a reading of “Goodnight Ark” to her girls’ classes at their lovely school in Hampstead, a village of London. That was a wonderful treat in and of itself and I especially enjoyed answering the children’s questions after each reading, asked in charming British accents.
The readings ended at 10:30 and I think Charise’s youngest, who is just three, was a little sad not to get to spend the rest of the day at school with her sisters. It all turned out okay, though, because in the end, since Emaline was with us, it was she who got to show me the snails.
This is how it happened. First, Emaline and her mom gave us a walking tour of Hampstead. As we walked Charise pointed several spots that will be featured in the upcoming film Hampstead starring Diane Keaton, which I now can’t wait to see. After our walk, it was still too early for lunch so we stopped in at their home for a few minutes.
Once home, Emaline took great pleasure in showing us her garden – and that’s where I met the snails. This particular morning there were only two. “Do you think this one’s the other one’s mum?” Emaline asked as we watched them move slowly across a patio stone. “Perhaps,” I answered. “Or maybe they’re friends. Maybe they play together. What do you think?”
Then, in quiet whispers, Emaline and I watched them for the loveliest long time. And, as we crouched there, I thought how good it felt to pause from the busyness of the day to ponder snails – how they might be related, where they might be going and what they might be doing etc.
This adorable interaction got me thinking about life as a writer. I’ve discovered over time that my most satisfying days are those in which, like Emaline, I pause from the hectic pace of it all to ponder snails (or whatever) – in other words, to allow myself to slow down enough to see the world anew.
Heaven knows, the publishing world moves at a snail’s pace, so what’s the rush, really? Especially, when there’s so much pleasure and inspiration to be gained from crouching down and seeing the world – snails and all – from the perspective of a child!
Now, in celebration of three-year-olds, snails and slowing down, I offer you:
FOUR Tips to Help the WRITER in You SLOW DOWN (and See the World Anew)
- SPEND TIME with a CHILD. There’s nothing quite as perspective changing as spending time with a little one. Play a game together. Ask questions. Talk. See the world through their eyes.
- CLEAR the CALENDAR for a morning. Then find a spot, preferably outside, and be still. Listen to the sound of the wind rustling the leaves or the peals of children’s laughter. Quietly follow the trail of a chipmunk. What is he doing? Where is he going? You will be amazed at how alive and fresh everything (and you) will feel! And, if you are anything like me, you will come away with at least a dozen new writing ideas.
- DEDICATE an AFTERNOON to READING PICTURE BOOKS. Settle yourself down in the children’s department of your local library or at your favorite bookstore and READ! Pick old favorites as well as newer titles. Before long, those stories will transport you to the magical world of child-like wonder. Have a notebook handy because you never know what long-forgotten memory your reading will stir.
- Investigate AUTHENTIC CHILDHOOD WRITINGS. These can be your own childhood writings or, if you’re like me, you’ve also saved your children’s writings. I always ask my kids permission to read through their old school journals and story folders, and they always grant it. I’m so happy they do, because those journals, as well as my own childhood scribblings, are precious sources of authentic kid-talk and they always inspire me.
Happy Monday all! And may we each find time to stop and ponder the snails this week.
A few years ago we sold our first house so we could move a few blocks away to a slightly larger home to fit our growing family. We loved that first house and I know my son still misses it sometimes, but what I, at least, miss most is the lovely Korean dogwood that graced the front lawn.
To me, that lovely tree symbolized hope and blessings. I gazed on it from the window when I was on bedrest with our first child. And once he was born (extremely prematurely at 24 weeks), that tree provided precious shade as I sat with him outside and later as he toddled about. He eventually even climbed that tree, for its trunk was nice and low and its branches the perfect size for him.
Later, as we wrestled with the understanding that the risks were too high to try for another biological child, that Korean tree became a reminder that blessings come in many ways. I’d always dreamed of adopting, perhaps because I had such fond memories of my sister’s childhood friend who was a Korean adoptee. Having that tree in the front yard seemed like divine confirmation that this was to be our next step as well. Indeed, I’m so grateful and happy to say that in due time that lovely Korean dogwood also provided shade for our beautiful adopted daughter – though she preferred playing fairies beneath the branches to actually climbing the tree.
Sometimes as I sat under that tree watching my children, I would free write what would later become stories and poems. I even have a post about that if you want to read. It’s all about not being in a rush to bloom as a writer, but to savor the experience along the way.
Long story short, we’ve been in our new house several years now, and every June I’ve missed that tree. Then, during a wild storm a couple of years ago, our neighbor’s pear tree, that had provided such lovely shade for both our front porches, collapsed and so we found ourselves with a bright, sunny, treeless front yard. We lived for a couple of summers in that treeless condition before decided that we should plant a replacement tree in our front yard.
And what kind of tree do you think my husband and I both agreed we should get – a Korean dogwood! So, here it is brand-new and darling as can be. We’re watering it well so that it will grow healthy and strong – a living reminder of hope and blessing for years to come.
Since this blog just celebrated its fifth year anniversary, I thought I’d celebrate by re-posting one my favorite entries from year one. That seven year old is now twelve! And like her, I still like to keep several horses in my writerly stable. How about you? Enjoy!
After school, instead of walking home, my seven-year-old has taken to riding — horseback riding, that is. She alternates between two imaginary horses — Cupcake and Sugar Pea. Her horses trot and canter. They gallop and run like the wind.
Actually, that’s not quite true. Cupcake runs like the wind. Sugar Pea is a little slower. She prefers to stop and smell the clover. Cupcake, by contrast, loves jumping over imaginary fences, the wind whipping at her mane. Their styles are so different, I never have to ask my daughter which horse she’s chosen. I just say, “Wow, Cupcake’s fast!” or “What does Sugar Pea think of the lilacs?”
I’m a lot like my daughter. I write best when I have at least two projects going at once. For example, right now I’m working on two very different picture books, several poems and a handful of blog posts. And, just as my daughter alternates ponies, based on mood, I alternate projects, based on interest, deadlines, or variety. Not only does this keep my writing fresh, it allows the pieces I’m not working on to rest, so that I can return to them with new eyes.
Keeping several horses in the stable, keeps me energized and happy as a writer. It also reduces writer’s block because I always have something in process. If one piece isn’t working, I simply take out another horse for the day. What about you? Are you a one-horse writer or do you prefer to keep several horses in your stable?
In January the editor of my alumni magazined asked if I might be interested in writing a piece for their new essay series on the Princeton Alumni Weekly website called “Voices”. My name came to his attention because of my blog (just in case you’ve ever been torn about the benefit vs. effort of keeping a blog), and he asked if I might be interested in writing something about my experiences as an author of children’s books.
I said yes. And today that piece is live! Titled “Creating and Connecting: One Picture Book Author’s Journey”, the essay is about how my passion for story has opened my heart and broadened my sense of community. I’d be honored if popped on over for a read. Happy reading all!