Jaws?

Once upon a time, when I was actually teaching (and yes, I miss it horribly, and I am always looking for a job) there was a student teacher who graced our English department for a semester. I use the term "grace" loosely because not one of us really could handle his superior attitude and know-it-all personality. He decided that he needed to school the veteran teachers in the department one day (I was still a rookie, and therefore was below even him) with his brilliant plan for teaching students how to write an essay. This plan he titled J.A.W. Which, of course, stood for: Just Ask Why. The idea behind it was that by continually asking our students WHY, they would be able to explain as clear as possible the point and meaning behind their essay.
Hmmm...ever engaged in a conversation with a two-year-old curious about the whole world? Remember when you get to the point when you have come full circle? Can anyone even imagine what would happen to an essay where the writer answered WHY after every statement made? Don't get me wrong. This does need to happen. Essay writers need to be clear as to the WHO, WHAT, and WHY of their essay. There is such as thing as TOO much.
I don't ask my students WHY so much any more, but I push them to answer the HOW COME. What? They are the same, you say? They are, but they are not.
They are the same in their meaning, but they are not the same in how we think of them. When I ask WHY, students sigh and give me one word answers. When I ask HOW COME students come up with one, two and three sentence answers that fit into the essay beautifully. They find evidence in the text and in their lives. They connect ideas to one another, and I get them to do that without becoming a two-year-old following them around.
What does this have to do with my own writing? Well, sometimes I find myself forgetting that while my novel is playing out beautifully in my head, what ends up on paper is short and devoid of any imagery. I need to remember that my reader will need a HOW COME in order to understand my line of thinking or my character's line of thinking.
Besides, I really miss teaching. Really, really, and I have been dreaming about it. Dreaming about the past and I wake up wondering if there will be a future. I certainly hope so.

Dance with me

"Come dance with me, little one." I whispered as I lifted a sleeping baby from her mother's arms. She hiccuped and shook her entire body as she curled into an even smaller ball on my chest. We began that waltz around the tiny living room to the easy rhythm of baby girl's father's music as it coursed down the hall from the makeshift music room/guest room/new baby room. Music permeates her life and will eternally.
As her hiccups cease and baby sighs signal her imminent sleep, I slowly sway around the room. Guitars, bassinets, and dog toys litter the ground, but they make no difference. Our dance is what matters. Our time to bond. Our moment together. These moments are destined to be few and far between as I dread leaving my niece and my sister to return home in a few days. She will not remember, but I will. Every hug and kiss, every coo and smile. I will remember.

Contest at Grab a Pen

Here we are! This is the first contest I have entered, and I am entering strictly for fun! Check it out, try it out, and have a good time writing your submission! I sure did!

BLOW YOUR MIND

Thanks, Tahereh, for this fun opportunity!

If she can do it...

My sister gave birth this week. An event that I was actually blessed to be a part of, and she was determined to have a natural birth. Well, sixteen hours into it, she had had enough and opted for the drugs. Who can blame her? Anyway, before we hit that wall, her nurse looked at her and said, "Think of someone you know who had a natural birth, and when things are rough, just remember, if she can do it, you can too."
I am here to announce that I have found my freaking inspiration. Thanks to Nathan Bransford and his "This week in publishing" post, I am happy to announce that if Tyra Banks can fake her damn way through an YA Lit novel then I certainly can. You have got to be freaking killing me here! Tyra Banks? YA Lit? If I didn't despise that woman and her "I am God's gift to the world" attitude, then I promise, I PROMISE, I would now. My red face, angry knit brow and furious typing are probably flipping out my precious new niece in the other room, but this is beyond...beyond...aw, HELL! I even lost my train of thought because I am so furious! Well, good for her, I guess. Does she want to take over the world next? When she runs for office, I think I will move to Canada, or Mexico, or Greece.
BLECH!!