A Quick Sidestep

Back in my junior college days, Phys Ed was not my thing, so having the chance to take a movement class that didn't involve profuse sweat, sports bras, or showering in public was appealing. That's how I wound up in Social Dance learning the foxtrot.

Photo by Tim Gouw via Unsplash

The foxtrot involves two slow steps forward and two quicksteps to the side. The pattern keeps replaying in my mind, two steps forward and quick-quick sidestep. I'm well acquainted with the sidestep, the deviation from the plotted course.

My entire fall is a deviation from my writing goals. A whole new group of little people have just entered my life. They will take all my time and attention for a minute. Or a month or two. And then I can have a life outside of my classroom.

It's not the first time I've had to take a quick sidestep this year. I've been active on social media since 2014 when my first book came out. For a year or two, I posted to Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram several times a week and posted fresh content here on my website at least once a week. With managing my book release. launch, monthly author events, and working full-time for most of the year, my Queen of Social Media tiara slipped a little. It's been a year of creating connections and meeting new readers. My focus has been on traditional marketing far more than on online marketing, and though it probably doesn't make a difference to my Amazon ranking, I'm happy with those results.

Writing time is writing time. It's sacred. Blogging or posting on social media is time stolen from finishing my novel. And that first draft is so close to being done! It's the Writer Paradox: successful writers need to connect with readers, in person and online, but the best way to be a successful writer is to keep writing.

Photo by Alvin Mahmudov via Unsplash

That's why I'm pleased to announce that I'm taking my first creative writing class since high school. The only education I received on crafting novels came from reading a ton of Young Adult novels. It will take a healthy chunk of writing, blogging, and social media time, but it should help me more more forward as a writer, even if it's in a different direction than I might have planned.

Forward momentum is forward momentum, even if it isn't precisely where you thought you were going. For a little more inspiration, let's muse on this quote by Ginger Rogers: 

I do everything the man does, only backwards and in high heels!

In the next few weeks I'll be doing author events, Parent Teacher Conferences, Comic Con, a Novel Writing class, and finishing my Rumpelstiltskin rewrite. And much of that will be in really cute shoes.

Don't worry, I've got this.

A Little Romance

Life has been busy lately. My summer life is transforming into my fall life. Writing full-time is making way for working full-time and listening for the call of my characters will make way for learning the needs of my students. My summer story is nearly written and with the opening of the school year, a new chapter unfolds. 

This summer, my journey has been marked with morning walks, morning talks, and so many stories. My heart is swayed by romance and as I roam around my school instead of my neighborhood and fall in love with adorable five-year-olds instead of my own characters, I'll continue searching for a little romance.

Perhaps you too are trying to reconcile a summer life with a regular life and you could use an extra smile and a giggle. If so, maybe you could benefit from a little escape nestled between the pages.

Ross Poldark: A Novel of Cornwall, Winston Graham. I first met Ross Poldark in the PBS Masterpiece series Poldark. Because Aidan Turner, my friends. Since I discovered that it's based on a series of novels, I've been dying to get my hands on them. And guess what? They're fantastic. Ross's courage and inborn romance will win anyone's heart. 

I Am The Messenger, Markus Zusak. Zusak's style is both masterful and delightful. In this tale, he weaves the story of good-for-nothing Ed Kennedy who is given another chance to connect with humanity. Or Ed will be punished by the unknown master calling the shots. 

Vanessa and Her Sister, Priya Parmar. Parmar weaves a tale around the life and times of Vanessa Bell, artist and sister of Virginia Woolf. Historical Fiction will always be one of my favorite genres. It always sends me scurrying to the internet and library for more information on the events and historical figures portrayed in the novels. Vanessa and Her Sister is captivating, inspiring, beautiful, and heartbreaking.

Remembrandt, Robin King. Alex Stewart has a eidetic memory. She recalls everything she has ever seen with prefect clarity. When she's recruited by a secret organization, she finds her skills put to the test as a secret operative and her heart pulled in another direction by a handsome stranger. King's first novel in the series is both intriguing and youthful.

This Lullaby, Sarah Dessen. Dessen's novels paint a world of heartbreak and joy, youth and folly. And regardless of the fact that they are Young Adult novels, they always reveal a ribbon of truth running through the middle. This Lullaby follows the carefully plotted out last summer of Remy. She's leaving her eccentric author mother and newly-in-love brother for Stanford in a few short months. The only thing that's missing from her life is one short-term summer romance. She doesn't expect Dexter, a messy, quirky musician to claim more of her life or more of her heart than she's willing to give.

A Little Bit in Love, Susan E. Fletcher. Novels that give new life and breadth to a character we thought we knew always intrigue me. Eponine, from Les Miserables, is reimagined in this gorgeously woven tale of grit, romance, and heartbreak. It follows the path that led Eponine to Paris and Marius and love. We may know how her story ends, but now we can know her heart.

* * *

As for me, I'm only a few scenes away from finishing my third novel, beginning the task of editing and polishing and pruning, collaborating to create cover art, and starting a new novel. Oh yes, and educating another group of adorable five-year-olds! Stay tuned for news on both! Thanks for reading!

Note: The above novels, with the exception of Remembrant, may feature language, strong themes, sex, or other elements you may not appreciate. Please read responsibly.

Bend In The Road

Life is a tricky endeavor. Occasionally the way is smooth, sun-dappled, and edged with flowers. Other times the path twists and turns, hiding cockleburs, the occasional alligator-filled swamp, and most frightening all, the unknown. 

There are moments--call it moonlight madness or perfect clarity--when we bid farewell to the path of familiarity and brave the crocodiles. Standing on the cusp of that decision is exquisite and frightening. One considers what will be left behind and what dangers and adventures await around the bend. 

Follow your heart. Who knows where it may lead or what heartache and joy lies ahead. Only one thing is certain, it will grow you in ways you never imagined. With my book release, my self-perception changed. I have always been the Queen of Kindergarten (if you'd seen me you with a puppet and 25 enthralled youngsters, you'd be inclined to agree), but becoming a bonafide author changed more than just my Facebook status. 

Don't be afraid of change. It brings wonderful individuals and experiences into your life that you would not have known otherwise. Fingers crossed, hopes held high, and oh so many prayers sent heavenward, I am swapping out the public school setting for the charter school arena. I've never been more scared, excited, worried, and over-the-moon happy, at least not since the choice that brought me to kindergarten in the first place. 

Make your own happy. No path in life is always sunshine and roses, but you can to push through the storms until the sun shines again. I'm already mourning the friends, families, and community I'm leaving behind. But I can't allow myself to be swallowed up in what's behind and lose sight of the sunlight. Today I'm celebrating the friendships and successes I have known and making the most of the time I have left. With hugs, well-wishes, and friends cheering me on, I make my way around the bend. Soon enough, new friends and families will worm their way into my heart. 

* * *

The emotions related to overhauling my life will probably find a home in the next story, masked as the struggles of another character carving out a place in the world. Because writing from life is what we do. Thanks for all your kindness and support, my dears! The last year has beena peppered with bends in the road. To read more about them, follow the various links embedded in the post. And I'd love to hear about your adventures, leave me a comment! Here's to adventuring!

The Start of Something Good

Teaching young children is like growing a garden, you get to see everything from sobbing and knowing nothing on the first day of school to the development of competent readers and writers who vow they'll miss you forever on the last day of school.

One of my--ahem--cherubs was just such a girl.  I had educated her older two sisters, who were both bright and willing to help, and I expected much of the same. What actually happened took me by surprise. I've crafted a short story to give you the basics of her first day of kindergarten:

          I glared at the airplane thingy stuck on the front of the school.  

          Nope. 

          There was no way I was going under that thing or through those big glass doors, no matter what was behind them.  My sisters, after saying hello to everyone, had already gone in, but I wasn't going to follow. No matter what they'd told me about school, I just wanted to be home.

          “Come along, m’hija,” Mom said quietly, her warm hand tugging mine. "It's time for school. Your teacher will be waiting." 

          I fixed my big brown eyes on her. It didn't matter that I was only five. I already knew what my big eyes could do. You'd see. She'd cave in a minute, and then it would be home, my favorite cereal, and cartoons galore.

          Mom didn't look convinced. She raised her eyebrows and gave me the Mommy Look instead.

          Usually, being the smallest in the family means I do what I want. Today, being the smallest meant that if she towed me where I didn't want to go, I had no choice but to follow.

          We passed through the big glass doors and were swallowed up by too much noise and too many long legs. A few kids peeking through their parents legs like me, but most of them hurried off and left their parents behind.  I could never do that.

          A wall of windows, the sun glaring through them, stretched in front of us. Between the brightness, the noise, and all the people, it was too much.  I tried to hide behind mom, but she didn't give me the chance. To both sides branched wide, white hallways, like at the hospital.  My stomach felt funny just thinking about it. When Ana had gotten hurt, we'd all gone to the hospital. 

          I hated it. 

          Remembering she'd gotten hurt at school, I tried to dig my heels in, but the floor was too slippery. Mom didn't seem to be bothered by any of it.  Ignoring everything, she led me down one of the hallways.  More glass doors stood at the end of the hall. Had I won? Looking at the doors, my insides felt less funny. Home, cereal, and cartoons, here I come!

          Right before we got there, mom turned again and I lost sight of the way out and forgot about cartoons for a second. In front of me were kids my size with Dora, Barbie, and Sponge Bob backpacks strapped to their backs. I wanted a closer look at them, but not if it meant staying at school. 

          Parents helped kids put their things away, took pictures, and shelled out kisses and hugs. Were they all leaving? Would my mom leave? I dug in my heels the best I could. I wasn't going any further. The only place I was going was home.

          Mom turned to me and crouched down so she was looking right in my eyes and said in her softest voice, “You're going to be fine. Your sisters loved kindergarten.”

I didn't believe her, but I didn't have time to think about it because that's when she got there.  I'd seen her before.

          “Good morning, Mari. How are you?” she asked. Unlike mom's, her voice was loud. And how did she know my name? 

          “Are you ready for kindergarten?” Her smile—like the rest of her—was too big. She was even bigger than daddy.

          Tears splashed down my cheeks. Mom was going to leave me with this big lady! I flung my arms around my mom. She wasn't leaving without me.

          Her big brown eyes were sad as she peeled me off and passed me to the big lady. The big lady's hand went to my back as she steered me to a room full of bright colors and strange girls and boys. I glanced back at mom, trying to decide if I could make it back to her.  She smiled a little smile at me.

          Just then the big lady crouched down to whisper in my ear, “You know, Mari, there are so many fun things waiting for you. And I already know we're going to be good friends.”

          Her warm hand on my back and her words still in my ears, something inside me grew less scared. I looked back at mom one more time, and taking a deep breath, I stepped into the classroom.

 * * * * *

I'd like to say it was that easy.  In reality, the little friend in question spent the better part of the first month of school sobbing and refusing to eat breakfast for the first 20 minutes of every day. However, in the end she became one of my greatest success stories.  Not only does she read and write beautifully, but she is confident and happy at school and simply adores me.  (That last part probably isn't important from an educational standpoint, but I really did tell her we were going to be best friends, because even with all those tear, I had that feeling from the get-go.)

For more of my adventures in kindergarten, read Closing Time and Run, Forrest, RUN! And if you ever need a slice of sunshine, feel free to volunteer at your local elementary school.  Seriously, little people are the most gracious and welcoming individuals I know.

Closing Time

As we draw the curtains on the summer sun, scrub the last crayon marks off the tables, pussyfoot around the cereal snack still littering the floor, and switch the lights off on yet another school year, I feel the need for a bit of introspection.

I often express the wish that I could write children's literature. I admire the creativity, simplicity, and power of a well-written picture book. Regrettably, I don't have the talent for working in that genre, but with a lifelong love of teaching and fostering early literacy, I can impart the skills necessary for children to tell their own stories instead.

This time of year is particularly rewarding because I get to see the fruits of my labors. Students who came to me in August knowing nothing about books, speaking very little English, and writing nothing more than their names (if I'm lucky), now fluently read and write.

We completed our bout of testing (don't get me started!) with a test to determine students' reading level for first grade.  One of my comrades in arms was concerned because with so many distractions, reading instruction has been spotty lately.  Regardless, all of the children except those with severe learning disabilities are reading on a first-grade level because these are skills we've worked on since day one.  It makes me pleased to see children who once struggled to recognize their own name in print reading confidently.

These children inspire, uplift, and entertain me.  I can't wait to see where they will go and what they will do next.  Though I am the educator, they have taught me so many things that I will always carry with me.

And as the one and only Pig Queen, I wear my big, green, bejeweled tiara with pride and confidence. After all, who wouldn't?

For more about teaching and how I survive it with my sanity intact, revisit Run, Forrest, RUN! Plot Twist! The Power of Fairytales