In the past two weeks, I've been burning the candle at both ends in an effort to complete Christmas gifts and get my shopping completely.
Today is the let down day. That day after Christmas where the energy and emotions are down because gifts have been given and meals have been prepared and consumed.
After decades of following the same traditions, the past few years as our family has changed, we have adopted new traditions. I think that we perfected our traditions this year.
No Christmas Eve or Day major meal preparation. Instead, we have started celebrating with a Christmas Day breakfast with Swedish pancakes, cookies, specialty breads, and lots and lots of coffee.
Then, it was time for presents. I've taken to creating some sort of crafted item for each person: my two sons got cigar boxes re-purposed into boxes for their hobbies (one paints gaming figures and the other creates chain mail jewelry), each of their girlfriends got a cigar box re-purposed into a jewelry box, and the oldest's girlfriend's children each got a cigar box re-purposed into a pirates treasure chest.
Now, it's time to get back to my writing. Happy Holidays to everyone.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
POETRY CHAPBOOKS
After a long and stressful day, I sat down at my desk to grade some papers tonight. Not just any papers. The poetry chapbooks that my creative writing students had worked on.
Throughout the poetry writing unit, I exposed my students to a wide variety of poetic forms. (I used several of the ones found on www.shadowpoetry.org) Some days I dragged them kicking and screaming so to speak into a poetic form, but most of them attempted each of the 15 forms.
In the computer lab, they worked to complete the formal printed version of each poem. They had to reread and fix the problems in the forms, come up with a workable title, and make sure the type of poem was identified. They had to also accompany the poem with a picture. Then they had to create a title for the book, a table of contents, and a forward that explained the view of poetry they had and what the poems meant to them.
When the pages were printed out, we returned to the classroom to punch holes and make covers and use the Japanese binding technique I had learned in a workshop this past summer.
After a day where I felt I had no one listening, I read how students had found a way to express themselves through poetry, had learned about their viewpoint of the world, and had come to appreciate poetry and the poets who create it.
Throughout the poetry writing unit, I exposed my students to a wide variety of poetic forms. (I used several of the ones found on www.shadowpoetry.org) Some days I dragged them kicking and screaming so to speak into a poetic form, but most of them attempted each of the 15 forms.
In the computer lab, they worked to complete the formal printed version of each poem. They had to reread and fix the problems in the forms, come up with a workable title, and make sure the type of poem was identified. They had to also accompany the poem with a picture. Then they had to create a title for the book, a table of contents, and a forward that explained the view of poetry they had and what the poems meant to them.
When the pages were printed out, we returned to the classroom to punch holes and make covers and use the Japanese binding technique I had learned in a workshop this past summer.
After a day where I felt I had no one listening, I read how students had found a way to express themselves through poetry, had learned about their viewpoint of the world, and had come to appreciate poetry and the poets who create it.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
SANTA STORIES
I've been having one of those day. You know the kind I mean. The one where you're so tired it hurts to think and then when you do try to articulate, everything comes out so jumbled.
I'm trying to put my Toastmaster speech together for next week. I decided to call it "Santa Stories," but to me it doesn't seem to gel.
Remember Santa? That wonderful mystery guy who came down your chimney to leave you presents and you left him cookies and milk. I do.
I remember one Christmas in particular. I really didn't believe in the myth of Santa Clause, but I wasn't ready to give up the stocking thing yet either. It was after my grandpa had died and as traditions go, I would spend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house. That way, I could help her set up for Christmas Day company. My stocking was hung on the fireplace screen and Santa would visit me there.
On this particular Christmas Morning, I descended the stairs to find that Santa had left me a package wrapped in tissue paper and balanced on two of the sides of the screen. I unwrapped it with excitement, but I re-wrapped it with disdain. Then, I returned to my bed and climbed under the covers. The Santa excitement was gone.
So, you ask, what was in the tissue paper? My grandmother had been cleaning the basement that December and had unearthed an old doll that I hadn't played with for at least five years. She had thought it would be a wonderful present from Santa to re-gift the doll, sans clothes except for the ones she had painted on her. I wasn't impressed with Santa's gift.
At that point in time, I wasn't old enough to see that my grandma meant well. In time I came to realize that it isn't the actual gift that has meaning, but the intent with which the gift is given that speaks volumes.
I'm trying to put my Toastmaster speech together for next week. I decided to call it "Santa Stories," but to me it doesn't seem to gel.
Remember Santa? That wonderful mystery guy who came down your chimney to leave you presents and you left him cookies and milk. I do.
I remember one Christmas in particular. I really didn't believe in the myth of Santa Clause, but I wasn't ready to give up the stocking thing yet either. It was after my grandpa had died and as traditions go, I would spend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house. That way, I could help her set up for Christmas Day company. My stocking was hung on the fireplace screen and Santa would visit me there.
On this particular Christmas Morning, I descended the stairs to find that Santa had left me a package wrapped in tissue paper and balanced on two of the sides of the screen. I unwrapped it with excitement, but I re-wrapped it with disdain. Then, I returned to my bed and climbed under the covers. The Santa excitement was gone.
So, you ask, what was in the tissue paper? My grandmother had been cleaning the basement that December and had unearthed an old doll that I hadn't played with for at least five years. She had thought it would be a wonderful present from Santa to re-gift the doll, sans clothes except for the ones she had painted on her. I wasn't impressed with Santa's gift.
At that point in time, I wasn't old enough to see that my grandma meant well. In time I came to realize that it isn't the actual gift that has meaning, but the intent with which the gift is given that speaks volumes.
Monday, December 5, 2011
I WRITE THEREFORE I AM
A couple of weeks or so ago, I posted information about a website called Ladies Who Critique. So far, I have found several wonderful people there and possibly a critiquing partner. That said, by spreading the word about the site, I was entered into a drawing. I never win anything, but I felt spreading the word was an important thing to do. Last week, I received an email that said my name had been drawn.
Today in the mail, I received my gift, a notepad with cover that read "I write therefore I am."
I have for a long time considered myself a writer, but the idea of writing has seeped into my blood. If I cut myself, I sometimes thing that words and letters would flow from my veins.
On the first day of a series of workshops I just completed, we were given a sheet of paper and told to put our names on them. The overwhelming majority of us put our name in one of the two upper corners. Then, the facilitator told us that that is how we think of ourselves as writers and that by the end of the four sessions, we would look at ourselves differently.
This past Saturday was the last day of the workshops, and I do look at myself differently as a writer.
1. As my notebook says "I write therefore I am."
2. I feel proud of myself as a writer.
3. I am setting time for my writing rather than hoping I get to it. (Hence this blog is being written Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights between 9 and 11 pm central time)
4. I have forged ahead and am working to finish my "worst first draft" of the novel Tomorrow Relies on Yesterday.
5. I am ready to attend a writer's convention and pitch my first novel, and my second, and my third.
How are you ready to say "I am a writer" and "I writer therefore I am."?
Today in the mail, I received my gift, a notepad with cover that read "I write therefore I am."
I have for a long time considered myself a writer, but the idea of writing has seeped into my blood. If I cut myself, I sometimes thing that words and letters would flow from my veins.
On the first day of a series of workshops I just completed, we were given a sheet of paper and told to put our names on them. The overwhelming majority of us put our name in one of the two upper corners. Then, the facilitator told us that that is how we think of ourselves as writers and that by the end of the four sessions, we would look at ourselves differently.
This past Saturday was the last day of the workshops, and I do look at myself differently as a writer.
1. As my notebook says "I write therefore I am."
2. I feel proud of myself as a writer.
3. I am setting time for my writing rather than hoping I get to it. (Hence this blog is being written Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights between 9 and 11 pm central time)
4. I have forged ahead and am working to finish my "worst first draft" of the novel Tomorrow Relies on Yesterday.
5. I am ready to attend a writer's convention and pitch my first novel, and my second, and my third.
How are you ready to say "I am a writer" and "I writer therefore I am."?
Friday, December 2, 2011
HELLO, WHO ARE YOU?
I got to 25,000 word on my NaNo novel; that's the half way mark. Of course, I started out on the focused idea that I would finish my "worst first draft" by November 30. Of course, I had the plot fleshed out in my mind. Of course, I thought I knew my main characters well enough to write the 50,000. Right? Wrong.
So many articles I've read talk about answering basic questions of your characters, but this year I thought I knew the people in my novel well enough to just jump in.
PROBLEMS
1. The favored pet pooch in the first chapter somehow ceased to have any place in the novel.
2. I kept having to return to chapters to look up what I had said about different character - losing valuable time.
3. The characters, at least some of them, seem stagnant and boring.
SOLUTION
I went back to those articles and websites and created a character development sheet that will work for me. Tomorrow, I start to interview my characters, one by one, to really get to know them.
How do you develop your major characters?
So many articles I've read talk about answering basic questions of your characters, but this year I thought I knew the people in my novel well enough to just jump in.
PROBLEMS
1. The favored pet pooch in the first chapter somehow ceased to have any place in the novel.
2. I kept having to return to chapters to look up what I had said about different character - losing valuable time.
3. The characters, at least some of them, seem stagnant and boring.
SOLUTION
I went back to those articles and websites and created a character development sheet that will work for me. Tomorrow, I start to interview my characters, one by one, to really get to know them.
How do you develop your major characters?
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