Going. Going. Gone. My Muse is acting like a yo-yo that has been shot into outer space and has lost the energy to return to my outstretched palm. The string, taut at first, went limp eight weeks ago and now dangles from my poised middle finger which, by default, is conveniently flipping her the bird for her delayed return. Continue reading
If you’re a KidLit Writer or Illustrator, it’s time to visit the San Francisco Bay Area for this inspiring, fun, and informative children’s book conference. See you in June!
I don’t think I have ever talked about conferences for writers on the blog, let alone had someone on who coordinates one. But with me on the blog is the fabulous Pamela Livingston, who roomed with me during grad school. She’s here to talk about the Book Passage Children’s Writer’s Conference in Corte Madera, California.
El Space: Four quick facts about yourself?
Pamela: 1. I was the Macy’s Easter Bunny.
2. I am the proud owner of both a VCFA MFA in Writing for Children & Young Adults degree plus a Picture Book Certificate which I may have illustrated before finally finding space on a wall.
3. My newest aka is “Mama Goose” of Goosebottom Books since purchasing this award-winning publishing house from its founder, Shirin Bridges.
4. I’ve been a circus star stage mom.
El Space: Tell us about Book Passage. What is it? What is your…
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Quimmer. Stranded. Separated from his pack. About as visible as a grain of sand stuck to the smooth side of a seashell, the dog stands on a slab of sea ice floating atop the placid waves of Scorsbysund. Four days ago, everyone in the east Greenlandic village of Ittoqqortoormiit woke up to a different world than what they had been used to at this time of year.
Mother Nature’s April Fool’s Day prank? Hmmm… Continue reading
“I’d rather be here, with you, than anywhere else in the world.”
When the man in the mountain spoke, it wasn’t with words. A wave of warm air rippled across his furrowed forehead, crept over his craggy face, and burst from the mouth of a cave carved above his clean-shaven chin. The breath of wind beckoned. “Come,” it coaxed. “Let us walk together in another’s footsteps.”
The distance from the edge of the mesa to the bottom of the rock face might just as well have been the height of the Empire State Building. I thought we’d be maneuvering the 200 foot drop along some wide, gradually sloping, hand-railed staircase, not snaking down a perpendicular footpath where I’d have to stab my fingers into hand cracks to stay balanced and, in particularly narrow spaces, pry my dusty size six sneakers from smooth grooves worn into the pitted volcanic tuff by legions of industrious feet for nearly six hundred years.
Clouds of steam rise from bubbling pits on the pocked landscape.
It smells like Beelzebub is venting a batch of burned hard-boiled eggs from his sizzling subterranean scullery far below our hiking booted feet. Continue reading
One paper heart
trimmed in frilly,
white lace,
One arrow,
one promise
of a sweet,
warm embrace.
Once it’s notched, drawn, and trained on a specific bullseye,
Cupid first blows a kiss, and then lets it fly ~ Continue reading
How long does it take for a potato to freeze? I wondered as the rotors whirred to life. It was April in the Arctic. We were on the last leg of our journey to spending eight days in a remote village in East Greenland. Four days in a guest house and four in the wild on dogsled.
How long would it take an eyeball to freeze in its socket? was really the burning question that churned in my stomach before the helicopter taxied, lifted, and lunged toward our destination with the first half of our group on board. Continue reading
“Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.” ~ Anna Quindlen
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