I had almost forgotten what it felt like. As a child, I was known for my love of books. The magical world of Narnia. The mysteries of Nancy Drew. The reflective words of Judy Blume.

My sisters and I spent weekends at my aunt and uncle’s house regularly. And before it had become considered a danger to do so (or maybe it was and the security guards just didn’t care back then) my uncle would leave me in the book section at Meijer while he shopped for groceries. He didn’t have to tell me not to wander and that I’d better be sitting exactly where he left me or else because he just knew. Before he had even had a chance to push his cart out of the aisle away from me, I was already lost in a new chapter of a new book and loving every delicious second.

I was probably eight when this was happening. The deal was if I managed to speed read my way through one book, he’d buy me two. My personal faves for this little challenge were the Nancy Drew books because really?  Once you read one, you could pretty much skip all of the required Bess, George, and Boyfriend Ned background, also known as Chapter One, and get on with the story. I always left with two books.

Other people’s worlds.

I was too young to appreciate (but old enough to marvel at) the opportunity to hold entire worlds in the palm of my hands. Friends were few, vacations to escape the hum-drum of reality were fewer since my father worked two jobs to keep us afloat, but none of that mattered because I had a little library at my fingertips. All I had to do was choose the pages I wanted to lose myself in.

I had almost forgotten what that felt like.

And then I read Eisley Jacob’s debut middle grade novel Born to Be a Dragon. And I remembered.

The novel follows Meia, a ten-year-old foster child who has been bounced from family to family because of her tendency to daydream about the  dragons she believes are real, and Deglan, the ten-year-old dragon who must flee from his home to protect himself because of the ancient mark he bears upon his skin. Told in alternating points of view, Born to Be a Dragon is truly an inspired work that will take readers along for a breath-taking ride filled with twists and turns as the unlikely friends discover the truth behind a legend that is destined to change both of their lives.

“Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.” ~ Anonymous Dragon

This cracks me up every single time I see it. Thank you, Eisley, for giving us the gift of your words. I can’t wait to read more. Or attend the movie premiere…

Order your author signed copy today. And stay tuned because I have an incredibly fun interview with Eisley that happens to include a giveaway…I tried talking her into an autographed bottle of ketchup, but she insisted on a book instead.

Your welcome.

 

Today’s Story Time Saturdays reading comes from Sabrina, daughter to Ellen and big sister to Max from Love That Max. Ellen was gracious enough to share their family moment and a very energetic reading from Sabrina.

Pinkalicious is the book. And I may be putting this one on Buttercup’s “To Be Bought” List. Thank you, Ellen!

Oh, and by the way, please make sure to vote for Ellen. She’s a finalist in the Nick Jr. Parents’ Picks 2010 Awards for Best Parenting Blog.

 

Welcome to my first Story Time Saturdays post. I’d apologize for the barely-contained Mexi-fro and the scary face (read: no make-up) but somehow figured dolling up at 7 p.m. to get my daughter into bed for her nightly story routine would have totally screamed “Poser!”

So let’s focus on the moment here, people, shall we?

Today’s video is our reading of Skippyjon Jones by Judy Schachner. I think I love reading this one to Buttercup just as much as she loves hearing it.

 

I’ve been busy trying to dig up my old writing in an effort to remind myself of excitement and dreams.

Here’s a favorite. I wrote this in the 6th grade as a student in Mrs. Grabner’s Project Promise class. The poem was the cornerstone of my Roy G. Biv collection of poems about the rainbow, which was one of many selected for “publication” in the school library as part of a writing contest. Customarily, each student was given their book upon graduation, but Roy G. Biv stayed in the library until I graduated from The University of Detroit Mercy.

Turns out, the kids liked it enough to keep checking it out.

Spring is here!

Spring is here!

Hip,Hip,Hooray!

I see a robin, a cardinal,
and a Blue jay!

The snow is melted,
The grass is green,
And beautiful flowers are everywhere
to be seen!

The squirrels are scurrying all about…

And it is definitely Spring…
Without a doubt!

 

That’s right. I said it.

Forget modesty in the pit I like to call manuscript critique. I’m getting slammed with statements calling me out as a crappy kid lit writer when it comes to the poetry I submitted. So I revised. And it looks like that round of edits only got me more “suck.” Granted, my critiques offered some very valid points that I wholeheartedly plan on addressing, but let’s just say the tone of the critiques has left me wondering if there might be one dream less worth pursuing.

So I have three choices:

1) Put my big girl panties back on, smile pretty, and REVISE, REVISE, REVISE. Focus on the fact that I while I know my current kid lit project might not ever win an award if/when it’s published, that at least I know the intended audience does like what I have to say.

2) Take a good hard look at my strengths and weaknesses as a writer. I know I’ve got a good thing going on with my journalism background, bylines to make my mother proud, and this snappy blog. And I’m plenty proud of my memoir/momoir/bookumentary/whatever-the-hell-you-want-to-call-it Baby Ph(f)at book in the works. But these strengths do not necessarily mean that I know diddly (or have the talent needed to make up for any stated lack of knowledge) regarding writing for children.

3) Put the kid lit on the back burner and let it stew for a while so I can gather my bearings. This is my first attempt at criticism for this particular project from someone not bound by loyalty or blood and it’s been a brutal wake up call. I’m not intending to let one bully on the playground scare me off the tire swing, but before I do anything, I need to figure out if I even want back on the damned thing.

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