Spring's here, no doubt. The azaleas are blooming and bees buzzing, oak pollen turning cars green. All that activity woke my muse from her long winter nap, ending an excruciating dry spell. She's granted me three picture book stories and rough sketches for a dummy book. While attempting to resurrect last year's novel, the protaganist of my very first book appeared. I listened to her telling her story in my head for a week and finally gave her the floor.

That's the thing about stories. You can't always control them. I considered my first book a learning experience and wasn't sure I'd ever revisit it. But here it is revived. I spent a week digesting the original's weak plot and passive protaganist and brainstorming new material. Chapter one is roughly written and the story's unfolding bit by bit. There's so little of the first book in it, they're barely related.

Picture books aren't docile either. Once you step into that realm, ideas for new stories multiply.  I've been working on a dog book for kidlitart's dummy book challenge. Last weekend, a new story popped up and wrote itself in one day. I thought, maybe I should illustrate this story instead. New stories always seem shinier than old ones. They glow with potential, especially since no one else has seen them.  Then you take them to critique and before you even get there, doubt dulls their finish.  Afterwards, no matter how high the praise, you know that story won't shine again without lots of polish.

But I'm not complaining. I'm happy to have something to polish and I'm learning to accept the mercurial fountain that springs stories to life, grateful for the words that come.

When I  attended Julianna Baggott's workshop at Eckerd College's Writer's in Paradise Conference two years ago, Fox 2000 had bought the film rights  to Pure, the first book in Julianna's YA dystopian trilogy. The book sold shortly after and I'm excited to announce it's here!

I was familiar with Julianna's middle grade novels, The Anybodies series and The Prince of Fenway Park. I loved her intricate plots, quirky settings, odd characters and sense of humor, dark and rich like the best chocolate. Julianna's equally delightful in person; insightful, witty and passionate about writing. So I wasn't surprised by the powerful opening in her first novel for young adults.  Pure is a vivid depiction of a post apocalyptic world. Protaganist, Pressia bears the scars of the bombings that destroyed civilization. She's lived most of her life among the ruins but carries early memories of a better past and wonders if the the unmarked people who dwell in The Dome are living that way still. Now, Pressia's about to turn sixteen, a dangerous milestone, one she's hoping she'll survive.

Congratulations to Julianna for this riveting new work. Go to Pure to read the book's opening and be sure to watch the trailer. Then tell me the girl with a doll's head for a hand doesn't intrique you.

January feels like a pause between the holidays and spring, which usually comes to Florida in mid February. But this year we've had a mild winter and the trees and ladybugs have declared spring early.

It's hard to stay inside. My husband and I have lengthened our morning walks, exploring new territory. I'm fascinated by scenes viewed through portals-like openings. They seem like invitations to explore . . .

                                                               . . . or intros to stories.

There are stories everywhere I look. Like these otters romping in a tree stump. Is the face in the wood a self portrait of the artist? Was he inspired by creatures he saw in the creek that runs alongside the stump?

On the way home, we found two tiles scattered beside an intersection. We flipped them over and united them. Were they tossed out a car window? Are they mourning love lost or celebrating new love? How can the imagination not be sparked by this mystery?

Yes, I said free! World Book Night is April 23 and the deadline to register for twenty copies of your chosen book to give to non readers is February 1st. Among the titles on WBN's list are Zusak's The Book Thief, DiCamillo's Because of Winn Dixie, Anderson's Winter Girls, and Collin's Hunger Games. You must be 16 to register and ready to offer a description of who you intend to give the books to and how you will distribute them.

WBN started in the UK in 2011 and this year the US and Ireland have picked up the gauntlet. According to the official World Book Night site, it began as a means to "celebrate a love of reading and books" and "promote the value of reading, of printed books and of bookstores and libraries to everyone year round." An impressive list of publishing industry types are behind this effort, as well as the American Booksellers Association and the American Library Association. Even if this is a thinly disguised tactic to sell books, I support any effort to seed reading addiction.

I've entered the second week of the sixteen-week dummy book challenge on kidlitart. We started last week by brainstorming story ideas. I already knew my subject, a terrier puppy, but what was she up to in this picture book? I envisoned her leaving her mother and going to a new home. How would she deal with it? What was her goal and what obstacles would she overcome in roughly twenty-eight pages, 500 words or less? During the week, I ran ideas past my husband and eventually, the story jelled.

Our assignment this week is to create the first draft so yesterday, I siphoned the story from my head through computer keys to a file. But the visual part of me wasn't satisfied with that and I'm betting I wasn't the only artist crafting scenes in my head. Tomorrow, I'll start thumbnail sketches. I'd like to have a rough storyboard to present for critique next week . . . if I'm accepted back to the PB&J group. I'm still waiting to hear. There's a tiny person pacing in my head! I sent the request last week when PB&Jers were preparing to leave for the SCBWI conference in Miami. Not the best timing. Rob Sanders, the group leader is posting about the event all week on his blog, Picture This! He's a fantastic motivator, never failing to inspire and lift spirits.

It's good to start the year with a new project. Your mind hums with possibilities . . . that the story will blossom and the sketches turn into memorable art. That phrase "Don't get your hopes up" was never meant for writers. Writers hope every story they start will soar. Unpublished writers hope agents and editors will see the potential in their books. Published writers hope readers will love their characters and get lost in their stories. I hope for the confidence to finish this book.

I'm not a person who handles creative productivity slumps well. So, with my latest novel project stalled, I turned to a picture book I'd written. The text could be improved but what it really needed was art. After a week of uninspired drawing, I headed to the library for resource material and came home empty handed. How is it that two local libraries lack books on Louisiana?
 
I'm trying really hard not to panic about the absence of my artist self. She'll come back. She has to come back. Art's been a vital part of my life since toddlerhood. I can't imagine my life without it. I thought back to those early years when horses ruled my drawing. Eventually, I added dogs and people to my portfolio. An idea surfaced. Why not go back to the subjects I loved to draw the most, horses and dogs, find the joy art used to bring me before it became a job.

I immediately knew the story I would write about a very special dog who grew up with a horse trainer. But I also knew I needed support. I've tried to go it alone the last few months and it just doesn't work for me. The January news from Florida SCBWI mentioned the Dummy Book Challenge, a guided sixteen-week process from story idea to finished dummy at kidlitart . I signed up before doubt interfered. Then I emailed Rob, the leader of my old picture book group, asking if they had room for one more. I'm waiting on their reply. Next step, gathering photos of my subject, who is now deceased. I don't have many but I know the ones I have will make me smile and I'm hoping . . . praying, that they make my fingers itch for a pencil and paper.

Is it really three days into 2012 already? Time is so sneaky. I meant to make resolutions but somehow they haven't solidified. Author, Julianna Baggott shared her enlightened goals on her blog, Baggott, Asher, and Bode .  One of her resoultions was to revisit her vows every week and renew them.  I don't think I'm disciplined enough to do that. I don't even like to look back at year's end to examine how many I achieved.

2011 battered the world. Oppressed nations erupted, Mother Nature attacked, and here in the U.S., discontent grew in the downtrodden masses.  As the presidential election looms, candidates point fingers, fueling hate and further splintering  a government that badly needs to unite. Despite the turmoil, I sense optimism for this new year. Is it just lingering holiday euphoria? Or upbeat predictions tossed from experts on TV? I hope not.

My writing suffered serious setbacks last year.  Two novels stalled, resisting my best efforts to revive them. Three picture book projects await art and the artist in me is AWOL. I've always worked through dry spells in my art and writing with positive results, until now. By the end of 2011, I was feeling pretty desperate, so I could definitely use hope. My budget allows for no writing education or motivational conferences this year. But I have supportive friends and family, some of them writers who understand this process.  And there's already a bright dot on the calender, my first published story, due in Highlights, May 2012.  I'll look for inspiration where I can find it, including books . . . thank you, God for libraries! Maybe my first resloution will be learning to trust the dry spell will end.

Last week, we took my mother to get a library card, primarily so she could download books to her Kindle. The librarian zipped through the new member process but sent us to the research librarian when we asked about the downloads. We traveled upstairs and asked our question to the the woman behind the big round desk. She pulled up the library's website and within seconds was befuddled, admitting this was a new system to Pinellas County and she wasn't familiar with it. Fortunately, my husband is the family geek. He claimed the nearest computer, figured out the process and taught it to my mother. 
 
At present, Pinellas County has 3000 plus books available to Kindle. My mother's an avid reader with limited income and mobility so borrowing e-books is a huge benefit to her. The download process didn't seem too difficult and the library's website featured a tutorial if my mother needs reminders, although that hadn't seemed to help the librarian. I spotted a flyer announcing an e-book class for Kindle users. No doubt the attendees will be the generations born before internet technology ruled. The younger generation probably already takes e-books for granted and feels impatient with libraries who don't offer their entire collection in a digital format. 

With my husband and mother on computers, I headed to the Young Adult section. I browsed the spines; then looked up at the space already cleared for computers and even I, middle-aged printed paper fan, saw the book stacks fading before my eyes.

You can't escape children's writers this time of year. Schultz' A Charlie Brown Christmas and Dr. Suess' How the Grinch Stole Christmas are TV staples and every year, a new child-themed holiday movie appears. This year,  DiMarco's War Horse and  Hugo  (adapted from Brian Selznick's book, The Invention of Hugo Cabret) are also playing on the big screen. Then there's the hot books, print and digital, perfect gifts for young readers. If you haven't found the right picture book, a good place to start is the 2011 Caldecott winner: A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Erin and Philip Stead; for middle graders, the 2011 Newberry winner: Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool; or for young adults, the 2011 Printz winner: Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi.

By Saturday, no matter what holiday you celebrate, I hope the gifts are nestled under the tree or around the menorah and you're sipping a warm drink and laughing with loved ones.  We're visiting family and friends through Christmas eve and starting Christmas day in a small town church where we'll seek the spirit of the season. 

Here are pics my husband snapped this week.

Julie, my long-lost high school friend, flew in from New Mexico this weekend. Her visit tops any Christmas wish I could have imagined.  We bond with childhood friends in ways mysterious and elusive to adults. In adolescence,  Julie and I shared tender, sometimes raw moments as well as breath-gasping giddiness. Saturday and Sunday, we toured Tampa and  Ybor City, the historic hispanic district. We ate superb Spanish cuisine, spotted herds of eclectic Santas and elves flocking to nightime events and fascinating wildlife at a local preserve, but nothing matched the stroll down memory lane.

At one point, Julie pointed to a group of  young women huddling for a group photo and she said, "that was about the age we were when we saw each other last."  I had deeply regretted losing touch with her and wondered where life had taken her. When we finally reconnected a few years ago, I discovered her path and mine divurged in many ways, except one: We shared a passion for writing. During her visit, the conversation often drifted to our stories. Julie is studying the craft at Sante Fe Community College and thanks to the internet, we trade work and offer each other feedback. It's incredible that our desire to learn the craft occured at the same time. Then again, our creativity was part of what bonded us in childhood. Julie is a master storyteller and I can't wait to see what she does with her talent.

It was hard to say good-bye to Julie. But I feel certain we treasure the renewed bond enough to stay connected and now that we've talked about our writing in person, we're even more motivated to encourage each other's efforts. Here are a few photos from our trip to Lettuce Lake Park . . .  new memories, sure to become fodder for fiction.