Perfection

It's interesting how inspiring a little one can be. The mere presence of my new nephew "Alexander" is all it takes to brighten my day and lift my spirits. The world takes on a new glow when I see it through these little eyes that are experiencing everything for the very first time.

As an artist, I imagine how bright colors must be...can he feel the warmth of orange, or wonder about the taste of purple? Trees must be so green and pink must surely be soft and squishy.

When you hold a new little life, how can you not feel transformed? There's a tiny face in front of you, who doesn't know anything but joy when they see you. They don't know your dark side, or the fears that have held you back all your life. Looking at him, I wonder where those fears really came from. Did someone plant them, or did I let them sneak in?

Either way, for now, Alex doesn't have any fears or faults...he's perfect. A miracle that makes all he touches turn to magic. For this brief moment in time, his eyes reflect the person he sees as flawless. To him, I am the aunt who will always be there for every birthday, every ball game, and every performance. I'll let him build tents in my living room, finger paint at my kitchen table, and I'll blow giant bubbles for him on hot summer days. I am given another chance to be a better aunt, friend and person than I have been in the past. How could I not love someone so small, who already believes in me and Winnie the Pooh?

The Awakening Hour

There's a special time at night when the house gets quiet. The hum of the refrigerator stops and the air conditioner kicks off, signaling that it's finally cool outside. The dogs have fallen asleep, softly breathing. The squawking parrot is finally silent, all puffed up in her covered cage.

It's what I call, oddly enough...

"The Awakening Hour".

It's comparable to what happens when you first begin to wake up in the morning. You're still dreaming, but awareness is creeping in as your dream begins to fade. If the dream is sweet, you resist and try not to wake. You want it to last as long as possible so you'll remember the faces, but you know the odds.

In the Awakening Hour, the rhythmic sound of soft snoring lulls me into a peace that has eluded me throughout my day. My mind opens up and I imagine the world as it could be. Kinder, clearer, full of possibilities and endless hope. Ideas take flight and thoughts of what I might do and be if I could live in this moment forever, make me feel whole once again. Although my body is tired, my mind is alive and along with it, the need to share and express and become a conduit through which creative energy can flow freely. It is the time when I can be who I was meant to be, uninterrupted.

The Awakening Hour is when I am most creative. Words become as precious as raindrops to dying marigolds, quenching my soul as they flow from my fingers. I feel renewed and rewarded, grateful for the vision that's come before I close my eyes, lie down and surrender.

Some say it's crazy. To be writing and doing while the world slumbers is a curious thing to most. But not to me. It is where I find bliss and understanding, magic and confidence. The Awakening Hour is when I'm most alive.

In Another's Shoes

Once in a while (like everyone else on the planet) I get frustrated in these shoes. I want to fling them off and try standing in someone else's for a while...just to see how it feels.

Today we went to a wonderful art show in Tampa. It was 82 degrees in the Florida sun. There were beads of sweat on my forehead that welcomed the occasional breeze and reminded me that the blazing heat of summer is only weeks away.

The same summer heat that brings tourists flocking to the beaches to broil like lobsters in the sand. The same heat that rises from the pavement while you sit parked at a stoplight, praying your car won't overheat or your air conditioner won't sputter and die. The same heat that threatens to send you to the hospital, as your garden shears plow through the De'Leon jungle that has suddenly become your backyard. And the same heat that sends you into air conditioned hibernation from June until September - when you realize that one more trip to the mall just might send you over the edge!

I remember standing there, (at the show) wishing I could be one of those tourists strolling by, vacationing here and then going back to a place where the weather is milder. I knew they were wishing they could stay. I wanted to offer them my shoes.

Then there was the artists to consider. I knew what they were thinking as the patrons walked by. I could read their faces, each line and wrinkle speaking volumes. Humiliation, as a voice mutters, "He calls that art?", followed by a snicker and a fake smile. Exhaustion, having spent the morning setting up displays in hopes of selling at least enough to pay for the entry fees, the gas to get there, and a bite or two of a sandwich in between people "just browsing". Longing, as their neighbor in the booth next door makes a sale that dwarfs their entire days receipts, leaving them to wonder where they went wrong and whether or not they've chosen the right path. I've walked in their shoes and decided they were too uncomfortable to live in for long.

After the show, I rushed off to my nieces baby shower. As she laughed and ripped through the brightly colored paper and bows, I imagined what it must be like to be beautiful and young, with a life growing inside of you. Something I myself had missed.

As I snapped photos and zoomed in on her, I allowed my mind to linger in the place behind her eyes. I stared out at all the faces, the center of attention. I felt adored, hopeful, cherished and loved. All of the things I had wished for her. All the things I had wished for myself, a long time ago. It felt warm and my heart swelled. Tears threatened to spill until I wiggled my toes in old familiar shoes.

As we drove home, my husband chattered away. I slipped off my sneakers for the long drive home. My socks clung to the carpeted floorboard and I could feel the hum of the engine under my feet. It felt good to be without shoes, and I began to feel like myself again.

The Changing Face of the Industry

Believe it or not, there are people who think writing is easy. They honestly think that they can sit down and dash off a children's book and everyone will be amazed and captivated by their brilliance. As a result, the mountainous slush pile grows daily.

Those of us who hit the "delete" button more often than "save", are well aware of the havoc such fools have created on the industry of late. Because of their stupidity, writers who agonize over every word and struggle to "measure up" to their mentors are forced to wait, while frustrated editors sift through the garbage that's been piling up since the affordability of the home pc.

In my opinion, it's as much to blame for the current state of publishing as the failing economy. Don't even get me started on the recent boom in the self publishing market and e-publishing! Self publishing used to be about intelligent people with ambition and a can-do attitude. Occasionally it still is. Once in a blue moon, excellent manuscripts are self published. But more often than not, it's cheap and all about ego.

The industry has changed, and serious writers must adapt.

Years ago, publishers focused on finding brilliant, and well written manuscripts. Today it's equaled by the search for writers with the ability to build connections, self promote, mentor others and speak in public forums.

We must fearlessly force ourselves to keep up with rapidly expanding technology, and rise above the swell of acceptable mediocrity, refusing to give up while facing extinction.

Disappointment in the current trend can knock an excellent writer off track. It's getting increasingly harder to keep up, and the odds against success are staggering. So what's a writer to do?

I think we all need to take a step back and admit that what got us here in the first place was the challenge. Although it is mightier, it is still doable. This is proven by the excellent writers who are finding their way onto bookstore shelves, despite everything. For those who find pleasure in beating the odds, the game is still on.

Bitten by the Doodle Bug

I have decided it's time for me to let go a little and revisit what got me here in the first place....doodling. Let's face it, when you've turned your passion into a daily JOB (I shudder just saying the word), it's easy to forget why you started doing it in the first place.

It's true for those of us who write as well. Your passion can quite unexpectedly become your torment. You seize up and suddenly every previously precious word that spills into your word processor seems jaded, cliche, or just plain boring.

Every writer, illustrator, artist, and creative person goes through it. It's how we deal with it that counts. We're all drama queens. I haven't met a creative being yet that couldn't do a bang up job of wallowing in their own self pity for at least a day or two. We moan and groan and convince ourselves that it's just not worth it. Our passion is gone, never to return! Grumble, grumble, grumble.

People who have seen us through previous funks, roll their eyes at our self loathing and praise us in an effort to relieve our "suffering", while secretly reaching for the nearest bucket! Can you blame them?

If you're born with a talent that most can only dream of, whining about it is really stupid. Lighten up and do something different and forget about what it's worth in U.S. currency. It just might remind you of where you started, and why you can never stop!

The Swirling Tides

It seems a lot of my colleagues, friends and family are changing course these days. It could be in keeping with the economy. It'd be really easy to follow the trend, and place the blame on Washington, but I think it's more than that. There's been a change coming in the air since way before the election, and the economy has been bad for a really long time.

No, this is different. Choices are being made. Lines are being drawn.

Ideas that had been placed on the back burner for years, are now coming forward and being acted upon.

People who have always taken the back seat, are getting behind the wheel and taking back control.

Many are standing up, tired of sitting on the sidelines and accepting only what is offered when there could be so much more.

I'm witnessing greatness in people who are willing to cast aside their doubt and reach for their passion.

I know followers who have suddenly stepped forward and found the strength to lead.

Change is coming. Do we dare to plan, when so much is in motion?

Then there's 2012. Everybody knows about it, but only Hollywood's talking. Maybe we're all subconsciously dealing with it by finally doing whatever it was we've been holding back on. Maybe that's the explanation for the swirling tides of change.

Whether you choose to believe that it's all coming to a cosmic close-or not, you have to admit that something is going on. I have a feeling we'd better all grab a hold, get a firm grip, and prepare for the windy days ahead.

Even I've been checking my compass and preparing to test new waters. Wherever my boat takes me, I'm sure it'll be an adventure!

What exactly IS "Bliss"?

The element of surprise can be a wonderful thing. Not knowing you're about to witness something profound, or receive something totally unexpected is pure and sweet bliss...right?
When the unexpected pleasantry arrives, you experience a rush of euphoria. You want the warmth that suddenly blankets you to last, so you rush to tell everyone and anyone who might care to share in your bliss.


You stare at in amazement, able to see the lesson through your gratitude. Recognition, appreciation, kindness and thoughtfulness have found you and you feel alive, part of everything that surrounds you, the seen and unseen.

The moment is mentally recorded, labeled, and filed away for safe keeping among all the other captured memories of the past, your mind a vast warehouse of people and places long forgotten.

But what of the surprises that were not so wonderful? Not knowing you're about to witness something profound, or receive something totally unexpected is still pure and sweet bliss....is it not?

When an unexpected unpleasantry arrives, you experience feelings so deep they cannot be described. You want the chill that leaves you frozen where you stand to melt away, so you tell everyone and anyone who might care to help you find your way through the darkness.

You stare at in amazement, unable to recognize the kindness and thoughtfulness that envelopes you as you tremble. You fail to see the lesson in the madness. You feel cold, unaware of everything that surrounds you, the seen and unseen.

These moments as well are mentally recorded, labeled, and filed away for safe keeping. Cautiously they nestle beside the other more pleasant memories on the shelf. Decades pass. Grace and time soften them. They get comfortable with each other.

When it's time to get out the boxes and pack up the warehouse, I have a feeling that the positive moments in my life will balance out the negative. That's when I'll know the true meaning of bliss. Until then, I'm grateful for the kindness of friends.

Thriving through Lifes Changes

Notice I didn't say "surviving"? There's a reason for that. It makes us sound like we are somehow victims of life's ever-changing journey. I was brought up believing that. I thought that I was on a roller coaster ride and someone else had hold of the wheel. It took a long time for me to realize that at every waking moment of every day, I was creating my own painting of the future. How could I be a victim if I was the one holding the paint brush?

That's when I started to look at other people differently. If I was painting my own picture, weren't they doing the same thing? Funny how that brings the BIG picture into focus. I'm not as sympathetic anymore, but since then I've begun living more "in the moment", ever mindful of the future I'm creating. Change doesn't scare me at all, because I know now that I'm the one who most likely caused it.

Now don't misunderstand me. We don't ask for lightening to strike. Sometimes there's no shelter from the impending storm. All I'm saying is that I've discovered how to tell the difference!

There's been quite a few changes around here lately, and I'm holding myself accountable. My biggest problem is that I'm a "yes" person. I want to help everyone, and quite often it gets me into trouble. I bite off more than I can chew. I'm a "people pleaser", and it seems to be hard-wired into my brain.

While working on a new Picture Book assignment, I got side tracked. The holidays snuck up on me and BAMM! I had multiple things going on all at once. My mouth, the one that's attached to my hard wiring, agreed to all sorts of things that are now getting in the way of the future I was creating! I lost my vision and my life's painting has begun to look a a bit muddy. But I have the advantage that "victims of life" do not! I know how to change what is.

Cleaning up your own mess isn't fun, but that's what I'm doing. It's working too, because I feel like I'm picking up steam and plowing through the haze. In less than two weeks, my new site- "The Visual Storytellers Showcase" will be up and running. It's a new gallery for some of the best Children's Book Illustrators in the nation to show off their best work to the viewing public. I'll be inviting critics, editors, publishers, teachers, parents and more, with the hope that publishing will be offered and contacts made.

I have also made progress on updating my web portfolio, soon to be re-opened. And I've started writing again....okay, well a little bit. Big messes take a while because the changes keep on comin'!

Published!

Woo-hoo! I seem to be saying that a lot these days. What a blessing.

I just received my copy of the bi-monthly Society of Book Writers & Illustrators "SCBWI Bulletin" Magazine (photos), and there it was...on pages 2 & 23, my illustration!


Getting published is something all writers and illustrators live for. When it happens, our lungs suddenly expand, and for a moment, we breath like normal people do. Our inner world becomes the land of endless possibilities and for about two seconds, we allow ourselves to feel professionally validated.

Like maybe all the work we've done, the endless hours we've put in, and the passion we feel, might someday be acknowledged by people other than those who love us regardless. If it weren't for those people, the ones who constantly feed our bruised egos and listen to us while we ramble on about the "business", I think most creatives would find a nice high bridge to

dramatically leap from!

Yet, getting published means so much more than just validation. It's about accomplishing the impossible, doing something that many people talk about but few ever actually attempt. It's beating the odds, silencing the inner voice that tells you to give up after years of classes, conferences, rejections and in many cases, poverty.

There's something that gets under the skin of a creative person. It's like a hunger to be seen and heard. We put our hearts in harms way, because unconsciously we know that the prize will be worth the risk. Somewhere in the validation, accomplishment and acceptance is the love we so desperately long for. The ability to love one's self.

Small Comforts

For the past month, I've had the privileged of giving drawing/art instruction to Natalie, a very talented, 6-year-old, self proclaimed artist. I'd like to share a conversation we had at our last lesson.

Natalie: "Miss Lisa?"

Me: "Yes Natalie?"

Natalie: "I noticed somethin'."

Me: "And what's that Natalie?"

Natalie: "I noticed these lesson's keep getting harder."(sigh)

Me: "Uh-ha, that's correct, you're very bright Natalie."

Natalie: "So how come? How come they're getting harder?"

Me: "Well, if they were getting easier, you wouldn't be learning anything, now would you?"

Natalie: "I guess not."(sigh)

Natalie: "So, Miss Lisa?"

Me: "Yes Natalie?"

Natalie: "Am I gonna be a great artist when we're all finished with lessons?"

Me: "You already are a great artist Natalie, but you're going to be a genius."

Natalie looked up, her eyes sparkled, and a warm smile spread from one ear to the other.

There are moments in your life, when you know you are exactly where you should be. This was one of them. This thought occurred to me as I watched her little face light up.

I remember the teachers in my own life, and how my child-brain unknowingly recorded every positive, creatively affirming comment they made. I wonder if any of them ever considered the influence they would have in the direction of my life? I certainly think about such things.

Teachers have a great responsibility. Not only do they impart knowledge, but they have the ability to comfort us and build our self esteem.

I look for the greatness and possibilities within each child I teach. It's comforting to know that no matter what they do or where they go, a small piece of the best of me will go with them.

To be remembered fondly...can there be anything more humbling?

Professional Update

I just found out that I've been chosen as the winner of Dragonfly Publishing's 2008 Cover Art Contest! Here's the entry I submitted:



I will be receiving a trophy and a publishing contract to illustrate the entire Picture Book, "The Nine Lives of Popcorn".

Here's a BIG shout out to all my critique buddies....
THANK YOU! I couldn't have done it without you!

Across the Pond

It's interesting to think that it took someone, a stranger half-way around the world, to inspire me to end my self imposed exile from writing. Not that I hadn't thought about it. It's just that lately, I've been very aware of the time consumed by reading.

Most reading is time well spent, but a lot of what we read these days is not. I (for one) spend way too much time on the net. I often wake up suddenly, realizing that my eyes have glazed over. I've been in what mimics a drunken stupor, staring silently at the font in front of me. Another hour wasted on information overload.

It's in those moments that I wonder if the writer realized or cared about my time? Time is precious, yet we so easily give it away.

I don't care to be one of those bloggers who writes, just to be writing. I respect my readers. I wait until I have something I think is worth hitting the pause button for. Words shouldn't make you stop living, they should add something to your life! I strive for that. To write words that move you and make you think, to wake you up so that you realize where you are and whether or not you're doing what matters most to you. I refuse to get in line with those who would lure you in, with nothing real to say, only to render you comatose.

So, to my new friend across the pond, thank you. You asked what inspires me? You do. Life does, and the people who really want to live it. Now, go read something worthy of your time!

The Blog-A Writers Muse

If you are an author, and do not yet have a blog site of your very own, you are on the verge of slipping into a time warp. *Let me rescue you from obscurity by bringing you into the light and the 21st century!

Blog sites are easy to set up and maintain, it is not rocket science. If you have time for a 15 minute phone call, once a week, then you have time for a blog.

You may ask, "Why do I need one?" The answer is simple. If you are a writer who aspires to sell books, then you will need a vehicle to promote your books when they reach publication. Remember, writing your book is only the beginning. The real work starts when it hits the bookstores! Your publisher will (most likely) only play a small role in promoting your book. The majority of the work, will be left to you. Why not begin by building your audience now?

It will impress editors and publishers if you can include a blog site on your cover and query letters. They will immediately know that you are unafraid to put yourself out there, promoting yourself and your work.

It is becoming increasingly popular for editors to check out author's blog sites to get a feel for their writing style prior to offering a book deal. If they like what they read, they are more inclined to make an offer. That being said, it is no surprise that accuracy (contrary to popular belief) is very important. Maintaining a blog will help you to begin thinking like an editor when you are writing entries to post. In doing so, your over-all writing skills will begin to improve.

One of the great things about blogs, is that the topics are infinite. You can write about anything you like (or don't like). You can post a snippet everyday, or you can post a paragraph once a week. Some authors post an article a month. Blogs are as individual as the writers themselves. Your blog is your baby...you can do whatever you like! Just remember, it will be read!

I find that the more I add to my blog, the easier blogging becomes. My site has become a place where I can vent, share, inform, reminisce and dream. I usually surprise myself by the time I have typed the last word. The unexplainable magic that happens when you know you've hit on something, is what keeps me coming back for more.

Looking back at past posts, they are a reminder of where I've been, and how far I have come. Someday, I hope to be a well-known author. It's nice to know that my blog will be there, long after I'm gone. For my loyal readers, it will not be just an affirmation of my success, but a testimony of who I was as a human being.

Weathering the Storm

Growing up in central Florida, I saw a lot of storms. Often they were accompanied by thunder so loud it shook the ground and made my teeth chatter. I can remember many times getting caught in a down pour on my way home from school, rain pelting the top of my head so hard that it felt like pebbles being thrown down from heaven. Within seconds, I'd be soaked to the skin, with my hair flattened and plastered to my face.

Lightening was the worst of all. I could always smell the electricity on the wind. From the safety of our living room, I imagined what would happen if I stepped outside into the crackly air. Surely my hair would stand on end and then SMACK! I'd become a human torch. Of course, my mother was comforted in knowing that I had a healthy fear of such things. It meant I would, most likely, stay out of harms way.

What she couldn't prepare me for was the other storms. The ones life dished out in abundance. She was too busy weathering her own.

Still, storms have become something more than just thunder, lightening and rain. Faye, and all the storms yet to come have reminded me of that. They are a glimpse into the past.

Like the day when the sun was shining and rain appeared from nowhere. My brother and I danced in our bathing suits, shampooing our hair in the warm stream of rain pouring off the roof. My grandmother laughed, handing each of us a bar of soap and instructing us to use it.

I remember putt-putt golfing in the rain with my grandfather, refusing to give up our game because of a little sprinkle, (even though we got soaked to our underwear.)I giggled as my sneakers went slosh, slosh, slosh, from green to squishy green.

I think of sitting in the bleachers with my friends, watching the high school band slide around on a soaked field. We laughed because the opened school books on our heads were getting drenched, along with our cloths...and there was nothing our mothers could do about it!

My favorite storm related memory was more than a decade ago. All the women in our family had gathered at our house for what turned out to be their last time together. The rain blew up unexpectedly and the winds howled. When the lights went out, everyone (me, my mother, grandmother, aunt, great-aunt, etc.)gathered together on our big round sectional couch. We lit candles and snuggled under blankets, munching on snacks and taking turns telling stories and re-living fond memories. It was magical for me. The smiling faces of that evening will be forever etched in my memory, until I see them again.

I've been through many storms, some worse than others. Each of them usually brought me closer to someone. Today, the storm raging outside reminds me of what and who is most important in my life.

When I think about it, that's what all storms do, even those other kinds.

pimp my spleen: a new book i just bought.....

Hello my little blogging friends, I was blog surfing and came upon yet another Lisa with a sense of humor! This one is has talent too. Check her out if you need a blog fix. Just don't forget where your favorite Lisa is.
pimp my spleen: a new book i just bought.....

Measuring Success

When it comes to writers and illustrators, what exactly is the measure of success?

What about all those people in the past, who became great successes after death? Many, dare I say, most lived a life of poverty but were happy in spite of it. What does that say for the creative people of this age?

At a time when everyone is driven to achieve financial success, can a writer or illustrator truly be happy when the majority of us are constantly being asked to practically give it away?

If we aren't keeping up with society standards, are we really successful? I'm curious to know what my fellow writers/illustrators think.

In my opinion, it all depends on how you look at it.

I have always measured success in a persons determination to make things happen. I think if you are able to hang in there, against all the odds and obstacles, then you are a person of real substance. If you can keep picking yourself up every time someone or something knocks you down, and you learn from it, then you are successful and should be applauded.

So many of us begin our careers with big dreams, yet many give up, losing faith in themselves just as the door begins to open. Fear is a powerful thing, I should know.

Success scares me to death. With each new assignment, we must deliver a promise. The promise to do what we claim to do best. While it is exhilarating to think that we have been chosen above a kazillion others, it is terrifying to imagine the very real possibility of failure.

Failure in this business can be very unforgiving. It's not like the hotel maid, who forgets to pick up a towel. When a writer or illustrator fails, nobody forgets. It's out there for everyone to see. There's too much invested. You can't just throw it back in the hamper.

So, what does all that mean? For me, it means that my greatest success will be in conquering my fear, embracing what comes next, and finding the courage to keep reaching ever higher.

A Day for Gratitude

At a time when I would have every right to complain about my life, I keep finding things that make me happy. Imagine that.
This morning I woke up to find hot blueberry pancakes on my table. Who would have thought? Yesterday, I had a piece of this chocolate swirl, cherry cheesecake with my favorite...pecans.




The truth is, stuff like this is normal for me, and in saying that, I realize just how lucky I am.
Not everybody is married to someone who makes fantastic cheesecake. Not everyone has someone thoughtful in their life. Some people have no one at all. But that does not make me less deserving. Thank you Augusta, for giving me that insight.
In my humble opinion, we all are deserving of a good life, just because we were born. It's a shame that some never have the comforts that others take for granted. It's worse that some have everything, and still want more.
I don't have everything, but I have enough. Wouldn't it be great if we could all say that?

Traveling the Blogosphere

I was given this "WebBlog Award" by my talented friend and fellow SCBWI member, Augusta Scattergood. In addition to writing for children, Augusta is a book reviewer for Childrensliterature.com and Delta magazine. She also edits a column for "Skirt!" magazine. Check out her blog at http://ascattergood.blogspot.com Thanks Augusta!

Now it's my turn! Let me see. Hummmm, whose brilliant enough to receive this prestigious "Awesome Blog" award?

Here are the rules:

1) Put the logo on your blog.

2) Add a link to the person who awarded you.

3) Nominate other blogs.

4) Add links to those blogs on yours.

5) Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.

Oh! I know who.....

Carlyn Beccia - http://circusballyhoo.blogspot.com
Carlyn's off-beat sense of humor has me laughing every time I log on. Her brilliance is apparent from the moment you see her work. It is literally a feast for the eyes!

Kristi Valiant - http://kristivaliant.blogspot.com
Kristi's from my mama's hometown, Evansville Indiana. Her whimsical illustrations have appeared in over twenty published Children's Books!

Paige Keisler - http://paigekeiser.blogspot.com
I just recently found Paige's blog, but it seems that publisher's everywhere are finding her work enchanting! She's got three books in the making! Woo-hoo Paige!

Sherry Rogers - http://sherryrogers.blogspot.com
Sherry has a heart of gold and it shines in every blog entry. Her illustrations are as heartwarming as her personality. Here you'll find an incredible talent and someone who is willing to share the tricks of her trade.

You all make each day brighter for your readers! Now it's your turn to spread a little love around the blogosphere. Ready? Set? Who's writing rocks your blog world?

Finding secrets in the Shadows of Greatness

Last night I was (for once) in charge of the television remote. While flipping channels, I came across the Hallmark movie "Homecoming", starring the late Ann Bancroft.

The screenplay was based on a best-selling mid-grade novel of the same title. The first of seven in the "Tillerman" series, by Cynthia Voigt. Having read the book twice in my search to understand the makings of award winning mid-grades, I immediately dropped the remote.

I'm sure Ms. Bancroft wasn't aware that it would be her last film, but she certainly gave it her all. In my humble opinion, her portrayal of Abigail Tillerman,"Gram", was so right on the money, that I found myself hanging on every word. Maybe it was partly because, to my amazement, the script was almost word-for-word in keeping with Voigt's novel. To me, this was a true testimonial to the power of a well written, tightly worded novel.

Writing rules; Make each word count, propelling the story forward.

In fact, Cynthia Voigt does more than write a tight novel. She keeps her readers feelings and reactions in mind as well. I found that in the second Tillerman novel, "Dicey's Song", Ms. Voigt gives many of her sentences double meanings. Each sentence works every word, in order to eek out as much emotion and complexity from her characters as possible. Sometimes, it's what her characters DON'T say, that makes us understand them better. That in itself is amazing. It's no wonder "Dicey's Song" earned a Newbery medal, and an honored spot on my bookshelf.

I'm sure that Cynthia Voigt, Frances O'Roark Dowell(Dovey Coe), Madeleine L'Engle(A Wrinkle in Time), and others will influence the final outcome for my current mid-grade work-in-progress, "Hasty Liberty". I have learned so much from them, and the many other Newbery winners I've been devouring in the past few years. I hope that in some small way, I can do them all justice. If I turn out a well written novel, I'll have them to thank, as well as you.

"Who we are is the combination of every place we've been, every experience we've had, and every person who has reached out and touched our lives."

"Little Things" = Evolution

It's amazing how every little thing you do counts. You may not know it at the time, but it always comes back around. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it smacks you upside the head. But it always returns, every little thing.

I'm becoming more aware of this fact every day. I find myself chosing my words more carefully. They don't come flying out of my mouth anymore, like they did when I was sure I knew everything. Now,I come prepared.

I suddenly understand why mom always had to know what was happening in advance. She had to get ready, so as not to embarrass herself by saying or doing some little thing that would ultimately come back to haunt her. Mom, if you're listening, I get it now.

Last week I opened a new shop on-line,(www.whimsicalscribbles.etsy.com)in order to sell some of my art. I had to use all my accumulated "smarts" to figure it out. As I typed in the opening statement, the product descriptions, the shop policies, etc., it occured to me how the little things in my past had prepared me for the moment. Not that what I wrote was brilliant or anything, it was just easy. I remembered a time when that sort of thing would have scared me half to death. I found out about the site from a new student who attends the weekly art class I teach voluntarily for community seniors. It's just a little thing.

This week I became one of the new illustrators on www.best-childrens-books.com. I'd had to apply by preparing a personal profile, which included relative experience, explaining my creative style, medium proficiency, collaborative skills, contract preferences, etc. Unexpectedly, it was a piece of cake. Interestingly, the site moderator came back with, "Nice job! (Now could you teach the other
illustrators how to write?). It's good to have you on the site." I wouldn't have even known about the site, or recieved that pat on the back, if it hadn't been for a little thing I'd done for a friend, without expecting anything to come of it.

My friend Nancy took the time to remind me to come out and play. It's such a little thing, but it means so much when someone cares enough to let you know you are missed.

Every "little thing" you do comes back to you. I've discovered that even when it seems bad, you learn something from it. Something that will carry you forward, somewhere down the road towards your evolution.