Piles of Books

The title of this blog describes the state of my study - and my bedside table - and my living room, on occasion.  My husband and I are avid readers, always have been (it's one of the things that made me know we were meant to be together), but I carry it to extreme.

I never go to the library without coming home with a bagful of new pages to read.  I'm always looking for work by new fiction writers - to check out my competition as I pursue selling my first novel.  I look at the new books section; something always catches my interest there.  I'm big on biographies, books on theatre, travel, history, how-to's on writing, books about writers, magazines that contain stories or info. I want to research, and the list could go on.

Once at home with my new stack of tomes, I peruse them all first and sometimes discard ones that prove to be not as interesting as I originally thought, or not very well written.  The rest I divide into books I need in the study for research, those I might read at night go into the bedroom, and a few are placed in the living room for scanning when I have some free moments or want reading matter while I drink my morning tea and examine the new day from my picture window.

My son, Sean, shares my affinity for never having enough books, and, when he is combing his local library, he usually has Fletcher (his almost 5-year-old) in tow, who will have his own pile of books and videos to check out.  I love that all the members of my family are voracious about books.  And I agree with Sean that always having a variety of things to read is a plus, and worth toting heavy book bags, and paying the occasional fine for the ones that get returned late.

I believe in the Stephen King maxim that a good writer is a good reader.  I feel I become a more accomplished writer every time I read a new novel, or discover something I didn't know about the world in the pages of nonfiction.   I never have a day when I don't read something.  I'm always rewarded by books, and I don't plan to change my habits in their regard. I recommend the practice highly - and having stacks like mine are not required!

First Day Of School

Our two older grandsons begin school this morning.  For one, it is a return to the same school he attended last year, now a sophomore therefore much wiser.  For the other, it is his first day of high school, luckily with some friends he made last year in middle school, but still a new experience - and he has to deal with the inevitable question from students and teachers: "Are you Alex's brother?"

I remember this social pattern from the times when our daughter (Alex's mom) and her brother were in the same position.  They were 3-1/2 years apart in age, so they were separated by a larger grade difference, but the question was always there for our son.  At times he didn't mind the comparison but, on occasion, he resented it, especially when it was a teacher who was asking.

The ramifications from such an innocent inquiry can range from teasing by a classmate to an unfair parallel being made about personality and intellectual acumen.  I don't remember any serious problems occurring because of it, but I do think it makes for one more adjustment in an already crowded social agenda.

Being an only child, I never had to deal with the question when I was in school.  But, it seems to me that a better way of getting to know someone in that "sibling situation" would be to say, "It's great to meet you.  Do you have any brothers or sisters who go to this school?"  That way, the new student has a chance to present himself and his sibling in a manner that makes him the topic of conversation rather than an addendum to someone else's personality.

Keep in mind, this is just a personal quirk of mine, and I hope I don't make too much of it.  I just feel that, in today's chaotic and complicated world, an adolescent doesn't need to worry about whether he measures up to what people expect of him before they even know him as an individual.

Your thoughts on the subject?  I'd love to hear them, including your own personal experiences.

Feedback Is Vital

I'm always thinking of subjects I could discuss on this blog; I discard many of them.  Why?  Because the mind of a writer is constantly filled with "ideas" that never develop into a finished product, either because they really aren't interesting enough when the idea becomes words on a page, or because they are too self-serving and not really something anyone else would want to peruse.

Trying to maintain a balance about what interests me and what might interest others is difficult sometimes.  I get passionate about things, and, as a writer, I want to put that passion into composed form.  But it doesn't always work.  Rereading my posts before putting them out there is a necessary exercise, not only for grammar and spell check reasons, but it allows me one more chance, before pressing the key to post, to take an unbiased (hopefully) look at the work and decide if it will be something my readers will identify with.  Yes, I want them to have an insiders look into my life and writings, but it's way too easy to get carried away with nonsense sometimes.

One of my favorite things about this blog are the comments I receive.  I do read them all and am always interested in another person's insight on my compositions.  So, please comment if you're touched, or enlightened, or just entertained enough to want to come back to my blog again.  It helps me to know what does spark about this endeavor - and gives me new directions to follow.  All writers need feedback, whether they admit it or not.  I not only admit it; I look foward to it.  Thanks in advance for making me better at this wordsmith profession.

The Joy of Grandsons

When our daughter, Dawn, was pregnant with her second child, she and I both dreamed of it being a girl; one we could dress in frills and bows.  Not that we didn't love her firstborn, Alex, but a part of us longed for that female offspring.  Instead, she gave birth to Christopher, her second and last child.  It only followed that when Dawn's brother, Sean, was awaiting fatherhood, we revived our conversations about his family addition being female.  It was never to be.  That birthday brought Fletcher to the family.

Each of these grandsons is a delightful and unique addition to our creative households.  Alex, now almost 16 and pushing six feet tall, is the quiet and introspective one, yet still quick with a sarcastic jab.  His 14 year old brother, Chris, is the outspoken, comic relief of the family.  The two of them have a special bond with their mom - who raised them most of their lives as a single mother - and they also share a great relationship with my husband and I.  They are spending a week plus with us now; always fun and a treat - even if I don't get much work done while they're here because we're playing games, watching movies, creating in the kitchen, sightseeing in our beloved Chicago, or just talking and learning more about them.

The youngest of the grandsons, Fletcher, at four-and-a-half, is the smallest but a dynamo that can keep up with his cousins and he adores them.  Fletch's nonstop conversation and exploration of the world never fails to bring a smile, and time spent with him always reminds me of how fleeting these young days are.  I try to make as much time as I can to be part of his discoveries.

Seeing Alex, Chris and Fletch together is a rarity these days because the older boys live in another state, and school and other responsibilities don't allow for it.  When it does happen, I'm reminded of that time when I longed for a granddaughter, and I really can't imagine what I was thinking.  These three males have given me a new dimension in my life; one that I wouldn't trade for a dozen girls.  I have been given the best gift of all; the chance to be part of the maturing of these special lives - and their gender never enters into that at all.

Reflecting On The End Of An Era

I just finished watching the movie, "Apollo 13".  It's not the first time I've seen it and definitely won't be the last.  I consider it Ron Howard's best directorial effort.  The performances are so moving that I never fail to sob at the movie's closing scenes even though I know the final outcome.  For me, the most touching portrayals are given by Ed Harris, Gary Sinise and Kathleen Quinlan for their characters must endure the waiting on earth.

In the spring of 1970, when the events took place on that fateful Apollo mission, we experienced all the drama along with the rest of the U.S. and the world as we waited to learn what would happen to astronauts Lovell, Swaggert and Haise.  Whenever I watch this film, I am reminded of those long days and the relief and elation we felt when they returned safely to earth.

For twenty years, we lived only fifty miles from Cape Kennedy (Canaveral).  There were many mornings we were awakened by the "boom boom" of the shuttle as it re-entered earth's atmosphere so close to our home, causing me to sleepily respond, "Shuttle's back."  And we were witness to many launches we could see from our back yard.  We'd watch the countdown on TV and, as soon as we heard the words, "We have lift-off", we'd hurry outside and wait until the spacecraft cleared the horizon and we could watch it climb majestically into the sky.

Then there was that morning in January, 1986, when I watched the Challenger vapor trail hang in the wintry air all day.  Usually such trails disappeared shortly after launch but, on that disastrous day, it remained almost as a testimony to the lives that were lost.  It is a visual memory that is still vivid and emotional.

These sense memories began back in 1969, as my husband and I pulled off the highway to view Apollo 11 as it left the Cape carrying the first men to land on the moon.  There wasn't a single car moving on the busy turnpike that day.

I guess that's why I was so sad to watch the televised video of the final shuttle landing yesterday.  It brought to an end an era of U.S. exploration that we must be certain to teach the next generations about.  My daughter, who now has teenage sons, wasn't even born when the drama of Apollo 13 occurred.  But she was raised, as was her brother, to appreicate what the space program meant to our country.  Our explorers were the first on the moon, weathered tragedy as well as triumph, and exemplified the best of what the United States can achieve.  That's what I hope we teach our children and grandchildren.  Watching "Apollo 13" would be a great way to introduce it to them.

In Defense of Cursive Writing

It was recently announced that the state of Indiana will no longer require cursive writing to be taught in their public schools.  They reason it is more important to teach typing for computer use than to try and read "scribbling".

I'm not against teaching typing, nor am I foolish enough to think that having students master cursive writing is going to get them to abandon e-mails or texting.  But I do have a list of arguments about the need for future generations to know how to write in cursive.

First of all, I like the terms joint writing and real writing which are commonly used for this type of penmanship in the UK (I often think the Brits have much better words for things than we do, but that's a subject for another post).  Those expressions denote exactly what the joining together of letters with a pen on a page do.

The next thought that comes to mind is: how will they sign their own names to legal papers or documents of any kind?  Oh, yes, I suppose signatures could be done with an electronic fingerprint, but isn't that sort of a dumbing down of society?  What comes to mind are those in previous generations who never learned to write and signed with an "x".  Is that what we want to progress to in our electronic rush?

It also occurred to me that our future society might not even be able to read historical documents like the Declaration of Independence, or archival letters and such in museums.  Again, I would predict that these could be replicated in bold print letters, but at what loss to their appreciation and even their self-esteem at interpreting the original script?

My curiosity about just how widespread this opinion about cursive is led me to some research and some heartening facts.  It appears that cursive is still being widely taught between grades 1-3 in U.S. public and private schools.  There are exceptions such as Tennessee which teaches practically none, and there are teachers who claim they are too busy to teach it.

The most interesting fact I learned, in support of continuing to have students learn cursive, is that it's been proven to be conducive to brain development and language fluency.  It allows a child to overcome motor challenges by causing both the left and right sides of the brain to work together as he masters the exercise, activating parts of the brain that lead to increased command of vocabulary, while stimulating intelligence and improving neural connections.

As that previous paragraph states in academic terms, there are sound reasons for the instruction of cursive far beyond the obvious ones, and the arguments against it, including the influence of the internet, the pressure of teaching standardized testing that leave no time, or the push to be technologically literate don't wash with me.  Regardless of what else our young people need to learn to survive in the twenty-first century, real writing needs to stay in their curriculum.

I'd really like to hear your thoughts on it.

Dialogue Voices

This won't be the first post where I've extolled the invaluable help of the members of my writing group, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Each time their critique and counsel aid me in improving my writing, I want to pass on my added knowledge.  At yesterday's meeting, I experienced one of those sessions.

The first draft of a book, for me, is written quickly and without much serious thought about the details.  I'm lucky because, by reading the draft chapters to my fellow writers, I gain wisdom about what I might be failing to notice as I pound the keys to get that story on paper.

Yesterday had to do with the dialogue I had penned, involving the protagonist and her parents.  It was pointed out that the words sounded too formal for a family just talking to each other, and that my characters voices all tended to sound alike.  My son, Sean, who is a member of my group, did say that the father's voice (whose character name is Gene, which was my father's name) did remind him of his grandfather; that tickled me that he made note of the similarity to name and voice.  His suggestion was to leave his dialogue as is because that was how he spoke, but work on the other two.

I certainly didn't mean to make it too wordy, nor did I realize that I was creating dialogue clones.   This is a major reason for every writer to have a group of wordsmiths to review your work as you go, and help make it better.

Ultimately, as our group agrees, what goes into a writer's work must be that writer's decision, but a good writer should always seek and value the opinion of other members of his group.  I hope I never fail to remember that lesson.