What a long week. I shared some heavy stuff, and coming out of that, for both of us, (we are in this together, aren’t we?) means we should probably shoot for some levity. Let’s talk books, writing, reading, kids and a trip to the library, shall we?
I’ve been toying with the idea of memoir. If any of the authors of the books I’ve read on memoir saw that I wrote I was “toying” with it, they would tell me I wasn’t serious. I am, but that means I have something different to say that hasn’t already been said in the market place of all things memoir. You could go with the logical and true theory that there aren’t a million Cristina’s out there, so I would absolutely have something different to say. Percolating, it’s all percolating. I have an outline, rather an excel spreadsheet to keep track of all that I want to include, the next step is finding a pattern that I could work with, and construct an argument and support the outcome. All very workshop and all in good time.
I took the boys to the library recently, and I didn’t pick out a book. I have my reasons. Mostly because I am beta reading for a friend. All that means is that someone asked me to be a reader and give feedback prior to anyone else looking at it. First time ever doing this, no pressure.
Reading, for me, has different hats, reading as a quasi-editor, reading as a writer to learn craft and reading for fun. Reading, reading, reading. I love it.
Another reason for not borrowing books, was because I bought this.
As part of the Writer’s Digest Annotated Classics series, this edition of Jane Eyre features hundreds of insightful annotations from writing instructor and author K.M. Weiland. Explore the craft and technique of Jane Eyre through the lens of a writer, and learn why and how Bronte made the choices she did while writing her iconic novel. The techniques learned from the annotations and accompanying study guide will aid in the crafting of your own celebrated works of fiction.
I mean for me? This makes me gaga. Not to mention, I also noticed that Rhonda follows her on Google+, and I’m all about what Rhonda does. Did I also tell you that there’s a massive, incredibly insane, how-do-they-do-it giveaway for the launch of this book today? I don’t get points for sharing it with you, in fact, by telling you, I think it narrows my chances. I’m a sharer though, so there you have it.
Ok, don’t slap my wrists. I also bought this yesterday. I know, I know. I spend my money on books – and guess what? PAY DAY and BOOK DAY are interchangeable in my world.
This highlights my vacillation between fiction and memoir. I haven’t started it yet, but isn’t that cover all that you wanted and more? The Art and Craft of Fiction by Victoria Mixon
brings together in one place everything you need to know about writing a novel, an in-depth exploration of the myriad aspects of creating fiction in a warm, entertaining voice that welcomes you into the greater fellowship of all writers.
Have I ever told you that I started to write fiction once? It was a few months ago, and I thought it was an interesting concept, only to have self-doubt creep in and say “What the hell are you doing? You can’t keep up this world!” And truly, it’s a crafted world with creatures, pods, flooded waters and things I wouldn’t ordinarily have an interest in writing about. When you stare at a blank screen; your fingers become possessed and your laptop turns into a Ouija board. I am hoping to read this and see what-the-what with that fiction piece I started. Right now, it’s like all the cast-on only projects I have in my knit stash.
I was also a little intimidated in the library. It was our first visit, so we had to get cards (we moved in a year ago, remember? That’s how long it takes for me to get to the library, because, instant download). It’s a small library, with narrow aisles and books protruding into the walking area. I didn’t realize there were so many books in circulation that were too tall to fit in with their friends the right (vertical) way. In my quest to get Alex the next book in the Percy Jackson series, I failed to remember that the last name of the author is Riordan. #facepalm And because I am a social introvert, I refused to ask questions.
If you can imagine, little me, going back and forth in a cramped room with books trying to find “the one true” book (Lord of the Ring fans unite), purse in hand, two cell phones (I have one for work), the boys and a “Welcome to the Library” packet of pamphlets and other oddly shaped papers showcasing all the library has to offer. After our 4th search, Alex said, “Maybe they don’t have it”. I can’t remember which one of us realized that we would never find it looking for Jackson. In any case, it wasn’t available, and settled on Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis as a nice teen intern suggested. We like teen interns, they’re our height.
Gabriel was a little overwhelmed too. He’s a new reader and doesn’t have the confidence in picking a book he would be able to read. At this point, I was weary from my search for a book *not* written by Percy Jackson, and feeling like I ate the wrong side of the mushroom (Alice in Wonderland belongs everywhere). Gabriel said that he didn’t think he wanted to take out a book, and maybe he would feel up to it next time. I held his little hand and sat in a chair so I could talk to him at eye level – he likes that. Gabriel is on the shorter side, so we get each other.
“Gabriel, why don’t you want to get a book sweetie? You were so very excited to come today?”
“I don’t know”
“Yes you do, you know everything, remember?” (running joke at our house)
“I can’t read everything”
“Well that’s ok, Mommy will read to you every night until we’re finished. And you know there are sight words in every one of these books, we can hunt for them! Arrrrgh”
As I’m talking, I see a little blond haired boy with the biggest blue eyes and a band-aid on his chin, watching and listening intently.
“You can have one of my books!”
And he hands Gabriel a shiny book from his very carefully selected stack . He must have understood the trials and fears of not knowing how to read, because the book he gave Gabriel, was a picture book. *Not* a baby picture book either. The Hero of Little Street by Gregory Rogers is visual storytelling – or comic book style. From the inner flap, it notes:
Narrowly escaping from a gang of bullies, a Boy slips into a grand old gallery – the perfect hiding place, full of mystery and treasures. Suddenly, a painting comes to life and the Boy finds himself on an adventure led by a mischievous little dog that has leapt from the canvas. The two slip into a Vermeer painting and are transported to Little Street, Delft in seventeenth- century Holland.
But the streets for Delft are a dangerous place of a dog, and the Boy has to use every ounce of his ingenuity to rescue his new friend from an untimely fate.
This little boy, Liam, knew that this would be the perfect book for Gabriel, to break his anxiety over not being able to read like his older brother (who was keeping a protective eye on us). Thanks, Liam.
I haven’t had coffee in a week! A week!? Why would I do this? Acid reflux, that’s why. I’ve been drinking tea. Lots and lots of tea. My friend S, suggested I get off the caffeinated sauce and try some chai! For now, I am guzzling the stuff, until I am sure migraines won’t eat my brain alive. I know this is loosely related to books, reading, writing, and libraries, but it has great importance dear reader. I haven’t become a crazy hosebeast sans caffeine! Hurrah! Have a great weekend all.
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