Latest Session, the first since November. Sad, says this lonely and rather preturbed blog. Very, very sad indeed.
Stop pestering, Blog. I know. I haven’t kept up with my part in the blogosphere. Or my writing in general. Laundry. Haven’t kept up with laundry either, but you don't see the dryer complaining. Actually, that's not true. It whined when I turned it on the other day and an odd smell spouted from its innards. I think it was trying to tell me something.
Well today, I have mustered some time, energy and inspiration to write...Beginning with my blog, inspired by my children...
On our way home from recent parent teacher interviews, report cards in hand, it seemed the Kid-Goobers were in need of practice in the subject of writing--spelling, grammar, editing, spacing, punctuation, indenting, you name it. Not an easy task, to assign "parent" homework on top of what the teacher already sends on a regular basis, so we conjured the idea of buying each of them a notebook to write over the weeks to follow, topic and format of their choice whether it be a diary entry, fiction story, or a retelling.
My daughter decided on a novel.
Our son has yet to pick up a pen. But the notebook is cool, the pen matches and it's a clicky one, so the important stuff is covered. Now, weeks since, he has been “forced” to write a story in practice for PATs and reluctantly formed a few pages that in turn melted my heart.
I won’t say that I am envisioning them as talented, famous, creative writers of the future, but in the last few weeks they’ve been dipping quills of their own into that proverbial ink and stories from the mouths of babes are flowing. I remember writing stories in school, assignments based on each kids’ version of a famous authors book or poem. They were fun, I am sure our mother’s were proud, and I have shared those moments as well from the other side. But this seemed to come from another place entirely, an idea that just seemed to flow from a need to come out. Much like my own inspirations, I saw that light in my daughter’s eyes, the frustration with moments of writer’s block in my son's. Even before the pencil touched paper.
They have begun and I can only imagine what the future holds. My writer's soul within has it's fingers crossed, that much is inevitable, but for now I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs with my face in the wind and share with the world how perfectly awesome they are. (Titanic not available, so I have resorted to this verbal gush of motherly pride.)
Of course, I asked for permission to publish the words of each author.
From the girlie, the rights to the first few lines were granted.
The little man, however…well, he is our strong willed boy who walks the line of his life as if it had been created the moment he was born; drawn by him, governed by him, and he simply said, “no” with a look that said, “not on your frickin' life, Mom.” I can’t deny a bit of pride in his strength of character alone. (Even though that same strength has tested this mother from his wee age of at least 18 months.)
Nonetheless, I am soaring.
I will leave you with a short excerpt entirely in her words from the “novel” (which includes prologue, character drawings and notes, and the first four chapters. Page count? Seven. That’s right. Seven. I can’t help but find this both endearing and amusing.)
The Crystal Of Shadow Island
Prologue
Eyes in the Dark
Firecry lay awake, unable to sleep. Two hours already had passed, but he felt as if someone was watching him. He looked at the entrance of the White Tail Forest and saw a huge, blazing pair of yellow eyes.
1
[picture of paw print here]
Scar
"I need to find that fool!" Scar yelled. “Koda! Bring me my rock. NOW!”
Koda, the River Otter, scurried across the rocky den. As he ran, he looked around. He saw old, wet vines hanging above him and moss and lichen growing on rocks and boulders.
I can only say that upon reading these first few lines, I was pulled into her world. And I can’t wait to read more. I hope to be granted permission from my son in future. For now, I will wait with baited breath, hoping in the least for better grades from the Goobers.
