I love the contest created by picture book author, Vivian Kirkfield, called #50PreciousWords. You write a story for kids, 50 words or less, with a beginning, middle, and an end. It can be verse, prose, poetry, written for kids up to age 12. The first year I participated, I was one of the winners! I was honored and completely surprised. I didn't place last year, but I am excited to enter again this year. I love idioms and decided to try them in my story. 

                                                Here's my entry for 2024.

                                                        Battle of Wills 

 

                                                Mama’s stressed.

                                                Don’t make waves.

 

                                                Mama’s overwhelmed. 

                                                Learn the ropes. 

 

                                                Mama’s disappointed.

                                                Don’t bend the rules.

 

                                                Mama’s upset. 

                                                Change your tune.

 

                                                Mama’s worried. 

                                                Don’t jump ship.

 

                                                Mama’s softening.

                                                Pie in the sky.

 

                                                Mama’s smiling. 

                                                Turn a new leaf. 

 

                                                Mama’s dancing. 

                                                Give it a whirl. 

 

                                                Like mother.

                                                Like daughter. 

 

#FallWritingFrenzy 2022

I am excited to be back! It's been a long time since I've posted, but when I saw this contest on Twitter, I had to enter. First, you choose a picture from an assortment of fall/Halloween photos, then you write a story/poem inspired by it in 200 words or less. I love these kind of prompt contests. They are challenging and fun! Thank you to Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez and Lydia Lukidis for hosting the #FallWritingFrenzy! My story and the photo I chose are below. Let me know what you think.                                                                     

                                                                    

                                                                 THE MAGICAL PATH

                                                                 By Laurie Smith Murphy   

 

Sophie peeked around the mossy trunk of the tall oak and gazed down the path. The trees loomed like huge scarecrows waiting to leap out. It looked like a page out of a fairy tale, enchanting with a mix of spooky. 

“Don’t go near that path, Sophie,” her sister, Rosie, had warned. “You never know what’s lurking.” 

When did Sophie listen to her sister? Once. Maybe twice. Okay, maybe usually. But not this time, she thought, as she tugged her sweatshirt zipper up and rolled her sleeves down. The chilly air was filled with the smell of damp leaves and sweet pine needles. 

But Sophie hesitated. Part of her longed to be here all by herself but part of her was afraid she was. She took a crispy step, then another. Soon, she swished through the red and gold leaves, twirling this way and that. Sophie set off

skipping, 

tripping, 

slipping down the magical path.

When suddenly, 

creak, 

crack, 

crunch.

Sophie shuddered, skidding to a stop. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” Rosie grabbed her hand. “Let’s go together.” 

Sophie’s heart smiled as they whooshed through the leaves all the way to the end. 

 

Dreaming of Venice

I recently traveled to Italy on a 10-day Rick Steves Tour with my college roommate. It was an amazing adventure! Since college, where I spent six weeks in England as an exchange student at Canterbury College, I've dreamed of exploring Europe. And after watching the film, Under the Tuscan Sun, I knew Italy was first on my list. It was truly magical and everything I thought it would be. We spent four nights in Venice, three in Florence, and three in Rome. We explored historic galleries, museums, markets, cafes, bars. Saw incredible architecture, ceilings, floors, one more beautiful than the next.  But my favorite city has to be Venice with its canals, gondolas and vaporettos. Enchanting! 

Moonlight in Venice

Bridges cross shadow
Alleys beckon to markets
Gondolas swish by

Florence and Rome were beautiful cities, as well, each with its own history, art, and magic. In Florence, we attended a cooking class at the famed In Tavola (http://www.intavola.org/en/), where we learned to make Tomato Bruschette (Bruschetta al Comodoro), Fresh Egg Pasta (Pasta Fresca all'Uovo) with Mushroom Sauce, Chicken Fricassee (Pollo in Fricassea), and Tiramisu. We sat at two large tables and sampled our delicious dishes paired with lush rosso wine (as we did most lunches and dinners). We visited The Uffizi Gallery home to Botticelli's, Birth of Venus, among other glorious paintings. Open air markets displayed leather purses, wallets, belts, colorful scarves, hats, masks, fruit. In Rome, we experienced the Vatican with its impressive Sistine Chapel, and the massive Colosseum.

Not only did we have a wonderful Rick Steves tour guide, we had local tour guides, as well, who gave a peek into the history and local flavor of each place we explored. They definitely added spice and fun, as did the 26 other people on the tour with us. This was a trip of a lifetime and one I highly recommend. Bellissimo Italy!

Taking Care

I haven't blogged in a long while and finally feel ready to get back to it. My life has seen lots of changes in the past year and a half. I sold my house (the house my three kids grew up in) and moved to a smaller house. It's on a pond in the next town over. I'm living with my husband again after a ten year, well let's just say, sabbatical. I retired from teaching and am now devoting more time to writing. I'm revising and fixing and adding density to my middle grade novel, Saving Gracie. I'm spending more time with my 89-year-old Mom, who lives on the Cape. I visit once a month and it always feels like home. After teaching for years (which I loved), it was time to take care of me and do some of the things I'd been longing to do.

Life is good and I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

The Little Things...

I was recently in an auto accident. I am fine, but my car isn't. It was totaled. It was an old car, circa 2000, but I liked it. It was a Volvo and very dependable. It may not have been the best looking car in the parking lot, with its many scratches and dings, but it was good to me. I will be renting a car for a week, then it will be time to look for something new, or at least newer. I don't care if a car is new, as long as it runs well, and gets me where I'm going. I live in a rural area, so I'm in my car a lot.

This past week, being home from work (my hands were badly bruised and swollen, especially my right, but thankfully not broken), I've had lots of time to think about things. I know it's been said many times before, but it really is the little things in life that make a big difference. This week, it was the little things I couldn't do. I couldn't hold my coffee mug. I struggled with getting dressed. I couldn't do a downward facing dog, never mind try to pet my dog.

As I pondered these things, it made me aware of the little things in the world-building of fiction. What are the little things a character struggles with, or the little things they do to gain attention? What are the little things he/she likes, or hates about a friend? What are the little things that make the setting seem real? What are the little things that make the reader want to keep reading?

All of these little things work together to bring about the bigger picture in a story. So, don't rule out the little things as being important. Little things can make a big difference. Like clutching a favorite mug filled with warm, sweet coffee.

A Writer's Paradise

I spent a week on Martha's Vineyard in quaint Edgartown, participating in a children's writing retreat at a lovely inn called Noepe Center for Literary Arts. I call it a writer's paradise. Anyone interested in writing, at any point in their writing path, should consider spending time here. The offerings include residencies, workshops, poetry readings and even book launches. The setting is idyllic, perfect for inspiration and muse finding.

"Noepe has a very simple mission: to provide established and emerging writers with time and space to create, and the resources and community to support, encourage and inspire writers at all stages of their writing career."

It was a small, intimate gathering of twelve women, all with works-in-progress in various genres and stages of development, and one wonderful mentor, Emma Dryden, of drydenbks. We spent each morning on a different topic, with hand-outs, writing exercises, and wisdom from Emma. Morning workshops focused on first pages, voice, world-building, and revision.

Nuggets gleaned from Emma's workshops:

• What you leave off the page, can be as important as what's on the page.
• The first line/page is the crystallization of the whole story.
• Most books use the home/away/home theme.
• Allow space for the reader's emotions. 
• Create rules for the protagonist's world and a personal set for your protagonist.
• In the first draft, write with abandon! Keep it messy and do not edit!
• Paraphrase your story in ten pages, then five pages, then one page, one paragraph, one sentence. 
• Cut the first paragraph and the last paragraph from each scene.
• List all the decisions your protagonist and antagonist makes. Do the same with supporting characters. The characters' decisions/actions should interfere with the protagonist's.
• List the first ten things each character does. 
• Ask yourself why you have to write this story.

My thoughts:

• I know what my protagonist really wants.
• I know why I have to write this story.
• Revision takes a long time and there are many processes to choose from.
• The scariest revision process is probably the one I should use.
• My beginning needed work, but I'm on the right track. 
• Children's writers are bright, generous, and fun to be with. (Okay, I already knew that.)
• When you find a great mentor like Emma, feel fortunate. (I do!)

I feel blessed to have been a part of this inspiring, emotional, week-long journey. For more info about this amazing place, check out the website at http://noepecenter.org/. For more info on drydebks, go to http://drydenbks.com.

A Poet's Dream

My sister is a poet. She's been a poet since the age of six. Or eight. Almost her whole life. And now, she has published a book of her poetry. The poems, she says, reveal the emotional journey of her life. The poems she has written over the course of a lifetime. I don't think the poem she wrote when she was six, or eight, are in the book, but poems she wrote in high school and college are included. The book is titled "Dream of the Antique Dealer's Daughter" after the second poem in the book. One of my favorites.

Robin always loved to read. If memory serves me, she was reading Anne of Green Gables in the 2nd grade. We called her the bookworm. She huddled on the couch with a book, even in the middle of summer. When some plaster fell from the living room ceiling, Robin didn't move from her spot on the couch. My mother found her reading, oblivious to what was happening. I was her opposite. Climbing trees, playing pick-up baseball games, making forts in the woods, for I was the tomboy, not a reader. But I was in awe of her. I remember finding her scribbles on pieces of paper around the house. I knew they were hers and sometimes wondered if she left them on purpose, so anyone could find them and read what she was going through at any given moment.

Robin's poems are haunting and lovely, full of emotional images that deserve to be read over and over. I am still in awe of my sister. How she writes with such passion and voice and raw intensity. How she puts personal snippets of her life in these small boxes called poetry. They are beautiful.

My brother's wife, Liz Smith, designed the cover of the book. After reading the poems several times, she wrote down words that evoked themes. Liz then used these words/themes to create personal pieces of the collage that became the cover art. There is a map of Moldova, a mannequin, books, shells and sand, even a painting of my father's. It's the minutia of the poet's dream. It's an amazing work of art, and a labor of love.

An excerpt from the poem on which the book is titled:

She floats above me:  
the mannequin in my parent's shop.
I named her Cordelia
after a storybook character.
The color of coral, her face held
the secret of my growing self.

Robin Smith-Johnson, my sister, has published a book of poetry. My dad, the antique dealer, is surely smiling down from his place in paradise, so proud of his daughter for pursuing her dream.

"Dream of the Antique Dealer's Daughter" by Robin Smith-Johnson, published by Word Poetry, is available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Simply Similes

Students shine as bright as the stars in the night sky. Once again, I want to share the similes my students have written. We read Tending to Grace by my good friend, Kim Fusco, to begin the year. It's my way of introducing the students to beautiful language, lovely descriptions, and sweet similes. Kim's first page shows the sad life of her protagonist, Cornelia, with these words:

I want to jump out of the car as it rushes along and wrap myself in a row of

                 sheets hanging so low their feet tap the grass. I want to hide because my life, if it were 

        a clothesline, would be the one with a sweater dangling by one sleeve, a blanket 

                     dragging in the mud, and a sock, unpaired and alone, tumbling to the road with the wind 

at its heel. 

Here is a sample of my students' similes and descriptive writing:

I'm as fragile as ice hitting the ground.

I'm feeling as deadly as a war.

I'm as scared as deer getting hit by a car.

I'M AS MAD AS LAVA.

I'm as excited as a mad scientist who made a new potion.

I was as sad as a rock in the pouring rain.

I was as scared as a branch held by a thread. 

I'm like a rock people kick down the street.

I'm like ice that will never melt.

I'm like the wind that has a harsh blow.

My feet are like soft jello.

I just stay there like a rag doll.

I'm as graceful as a prancing antelope.

I was so excited that I felt like I was about to explode all my madness. 

The morning we wrote these, describing how we might feel as Cornelia, the students typed them on my laptop at the front of the room. They were projected on the board with an Elmo so everyone could see. The students lined up, eager to type. It was an exciting moment in our classroom. 

Filling in the Holes...

I'm in the middle of my 2nd draft of Fairy Girl, a middle grade novel, and finding lots of holes. While walking with my friend, Kim Fusco, we talk about writing. What's working, what we're struggling with, etc. She likens revising to filling in the holes. I like that. I sometimes feel like I'm filling in huge potholes or shoveling dirt into a crater. But she confirmed to me how I was feeling. After writing the first draft and working on the next, discovering holes in the story is common. What happened to that story line? Did the mom disappear? Where is Wilbur, the cat? Why did I include that scene?

Walking and talking has become part of my writing process. I often walk with my dog, Hannah. If I'm having trouble with a plot line or unclear about a character, almost always, the answer comes while I'm taking in the fresh air and the scenic views around me. There's something therapeutic about walking. Talking works just as well. I talk to my sisters or my writer friends. My mom, too. They help me by asking questions. What if Gracie gets caught riding her bike? What is Hen's role in the story? Where did she go?

So, while you're working on revising, remember it's about making discoveries and filling in the holes.

The Teachers go to Birmingham - 2013

I spent five incredible days in Alabama, with 43 other teachers as part of the Teaching American History (TAH) program, a federally funded grant program teamed up with the Rhode Island Historical Society (RIHS) and the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History. One of the goals of this project is to give teachers more content knowledge and a greater understanding of traditional American history and to help bring this content to life in the classroom. In my estimation, this program has achieved that and more.

We traveled along the Freedom Trail through Birmingham, Selma, Montgomery, and Tuskegee. We visited museums, Civil Rights Institutes, churches, one-room school houses, and Tuskegee University. It was a fascinating and poignant look at the Civil Rights movement in the early 60's. The people we met told us stories that made us cry and stories that made us sit up and take notice. Many of them were teens at the time of the movement and some were "foot soldiers." These were people and children who marched for civil rights and were often incarcerated just for marching peacefully in a public place. Hundreds, sometimes thousands, would be arrested for marching. The children could not reveal their names for if they did, their parents would lose their jobs. They would be held in barns or large fields until placed in jail cells, and often would be held for days, even weeks. They would be wearing the same clothes and given little food. But they weren't afraid. They had faith and that's what kept them going.

It was a spiritual movement and they often sang spirituals while waiting to be freed or working together. They were taught to be nonviolent at an early age. They knew that if they fought back, it would become an "all-out war," and this was a peaceful movement. They met in churches. Monday Meetings, they called them, where they organized themselves and were given lessons on how to be nonviolent.

We visited Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s church in Montgomery where he was pastor beginning at the age of 24, and his parsonage where two of his children were born. We went to the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham where four young girls were killed during a bombing. We toured Tuskegee Institute and Booker T. Washington's home. Two of the students gave us a tour of the home and told us how the first students made the bricks that were used to build the institute. "Founded in a one room shanty, near Butler Chapel AME Zion Church, thirty adults represented the first class - Dr. Booker T. Washington the first teacher. The founding date was July 4, 1881, authorized by House Bill 165."

In Selma, we walked two-by-two over the Edmund Pettus Bridge where in 1965 armed policeman attacked peaceful civil rights marchers who were marching for the right to vote. Bloody Sunday, as it is now called. This horrific event helped to bring about change and The Voting Rights Act of 1965, making discriminatory voting practices illegal.

As teachers of history, it is now our mission to bring this piece of our country's history back to our students, without "watering down" what really happened. Everyone should take the Freedom Walk and discover what the Civil Rights Movement was truly all about. And how it continues today...

My New Hero

Yesterday was Malala Yousafzai's 16th birthday. How sweet it was! Malala is the Pakistani girl who was shot by the Taliban because of her desire and campaign for girls' right to an education. She is a survivor, a visionary, a fighter, a dreamer, a courageous, and remarkable 16-year-old. She spoke in front of the United Nations on her birthday about the need for free, compulsory education for all children around the world. "I speak not for myself but for those without voice ... those who have fought for their rights -- their right to live in peace, their right to be treated with dignity, their right to equality of opportunity, their right to be educated."

I hope that world leaders will listen to her plea. I hope that they will stand up to the injustice of women and children, and their right to be educated and to be treated the same as men and boys. Malala is my new hero!

                      

Heart Tugs

While reading some of the stories my third graders are writing, I realized something was missing. I couldn't put my finger on what it was until I was reading a book during read-a-loud. That moment when you feel a little choked up and it's hard to get the words out, which I do from time to time and was doing that day. Usually when this happens, my students sit up and pay attention because Ms. Murphy is feeling something. I will read the passage over and we talk about how lovely the language is and how it makes us feel. This particular day, I was reading Beholding Bee by my good friend and author, Kimberly Newton Fusco."Listen again," I said to my students. "Listen to how the author is describing how Bee is feeling right now because of the diamond on her face." That's a heart tug. Music to the heart.

Peace...

With the events of the last few days, I just want to say...peace. In the words of John Lennon "Imagine all the people living life in peace." Can we close our eyes and imagine what the world would be like if there was peace in abundance? Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine.

My Next Big Thing

Thanks to my lovely writer friend, Kimberly Newton Fusco, for inviting me to participate in this online literary blog, My Next Big Thing. I am honored to be a part of it. You can visit Kim's blog at www.kimberlynewtonfusco.com, and read about her books, including her latest, BEHOLDING BEE.

This blog is based on questions about my work-in-progress and gives readers a peek into my work and life as a writer. National and international writers have been involved with this blog series, which makes it quite exciting. I am happy to announce that I'll be tagging three other writers at the end of this blog post.

My Next Big Thing is a novel about thirteen-year-old Melody who loves to sing almost as much as she adores her little brother, Max. But when she loses the two things that matter most, how will Melody ever find it in her heart to sing again? With the help of her zany lunchroom friend, Zach, and the home-schooled boy next door, Wing, Melody searches for her voice without her Max. A story of hope and finding your way in a world torn upside down by sadness, MELODY'S SONG is the story of one girl finding inspiration in the transforming power of music.

What is the working title of your book? MELODY'S SONG

Where did the idea come from for the book? I knew I wanted to write a story about loss and how a family deals with it and finds a way to live again. This story is dear to my heart and was a hard one to write. I have dealt with loss of my own and wanted a way to express my experience in a way that is hopeful and life affirming. I hope I was able to do that in MELODY'S SONG.

What genre does your book fall under? Middle grade novel for young people 8-12.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? I certainly haven't thought about this, but if I had to choose I guess I would choose Abigail Breslin to play Melody. She is a brilliant young actress.

What is a one-sentence synopsis of your book? When a young girl feels responsible for the loss of her beloved brother, she learns to forgive herself and find her voice.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? That's an interesting question. My story has gone through many, many changes, including a draft in verse. It's been a long, hard process and I'm hopeful that it is now in a draft that is publishable, realizing, of course, that I will be revising it even more, if and when I find someone who wants it.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Well, I must admit, when I read SEE YOU AT HARRY'S by Jo Knowles, my first thought was, Oh no! My story is similar in that the main characters lose a brother but it really ends there. Her book is so well written and the family so quirky, that I really hate to compare them. But it's the only one I can think of off the top of my head.

Who or what inspired you to write this book? Well, I think I already answered why I wrote this story, but to answer who inspired me, I'd have to say my parents. My parents are writers and readers and have always encouraged me, and my siblings, to do what makes us happy and to be creative. I will always be grateful to them for surrounding me with beauty, books, and music.

What else about your book might pique a reader’s interest? A sweet romance blooms in the story after Melody meets Wing, the home-schooled boy, who plays the guitar and makes her feel special. She also has a good friend in Zach, who makes her laugh and builds her confidence. This is a story of finding hope in the face of adversity. It's a story that shows no matter what you're going through, you can find someone to confide in and find solace with. It's a story of a family who, after being torn apart, finds a way to come together and make a new start.

When and how will it be published? That is a good question. I am tweaking the synopsis and reworking the first few pages and will be sending it for critique at the SCBWI Whispering Pines Retreat in RI, coming up in March. I am currently looking for an agent.

It is with pleasure that I tag and introduce three fellow writers. The first is my sister, Robin Smith-Johnson, who has been a poet since she was six. Next, is my good friend and children's writer, Mary Pierce. And last, but not least, is Liz Dubois, another good friend who is a children's author and illustrator, and product designer. 

As a long-time resident of Cape Cod, Robin Smith-Johnson has been involved with several local poetry groups including the Lead Pencil Poets (Falmouth) and the Guyer Barn Poets (Dennis). Her poems have been published in “CapeWomen,” “Sandscript.” “The Larcom Review,” and “Yankee.”  Her book, Dream of the Antique Dealer’s Daughter, is forthcoming from Word Press, an imprint of Word Tech Communications, LLC. She lives with her family in Mashpee, MA.

Mary Pierce works full time at reading, writing, and playin around with the images on her camera and in her head.  She has published short stories and essays.  Her passion is children's literature.  She is currently working on revising a fantasy novel for middle graders.  You can find her blogging about whatever is on her mind at http://marydpierce.com.


Liz Goulet Dubois is an author and illustrator of books for young children, and also a prolific product designer. She graduated with an illustration degree from the Rhode Island School of Design, and has worked steadily in the arts since then. Her favorite books are ones designed for the very young, including picture books and novelty formats with pop-ups, flaps and touchable areas that are well integrated into the story. Her first preschool book, What Kind of Rabbit Are You? was published by Simon and Schuster. Another interactive book, What Does a Seed Need? was published by Penguin Putnam. She has illustrated two books in Scholastic's My First Biography series. Other clients include Highlights Magazine, Houghton Mifflin, and Golden Books. She lives in Scituate, RI with her husband and three girls. Hobbies include designing, directing and writing for theater, co-leading a troop of Girl Scouts, gardening and creating handmade dolls and crafts. Visit her website at www.lizgouletdubois.com.

Angels

There are angels among us. And now, after the horrific events of Dec. 14, there are twenty-six new ones. Like you, I am heartbroken and saddened beyond words. To see the faces of the little ones is almost too much to watch. The teachers and staff at Sandy Hook Elementary School are heroes. All.

I am a teacher. Like me, teachers all over the country are now watching their students a little closer, enjoying them a little more, keeping them utmost in their thoughts. I was afraid to return to school on Monday, afraid of what the children knew and heard on the news, afraid of how I was going to react, afraid that I might crack. But when my 3rd graders gathered in the hallway outside my classroom, like they do every school day, their innocent, smiling faces were waiting for me. It was going to be okay. Not one child said a word. We went about our day as usual. We all needed this routine. They needed to see (as did I) that things were as they should be in our little corner of the world. That what happened was a random act of violence. We weren't thinking about gun control. We weren't thinking about the horrible events that too often take place in this world. That will come later. It is my job to teach my students and to keep them safe. To show them the beauty in this world. To surround them with lovely language and touching stories. To help them grow and feel confident. To encourage them to be life-long learners and to question. That is my job.

I will always remember the new angels among us. The faces of those little children whose lives were taken too soon. I lost a child years ago. I know about angels. They are always with us.

Grateful

It's been a crazy fall. I'm teaching 3rd grade this year, a grade which I haven't taught in seven years, and so had to take a step back and reacclimate myself to a whole new classroom. Reacclimate: readjust to a new climate, readapt to new surroundings. Exactly. I'm in a new classroom (I had to move out of my 5th grade classroom in the 5th grade wing to be near the other 3rd grade classrooms) with smaller students, younger books, cuter drawings and, quite frankly, a new set of needs. In between teaching 3rd grade, I taught special education and 5th grade, and so now I'm reacclimating myself and it's not an easy task. I won't bore you with the details but it was a struggle with some sleepless nights, and some what-went-wrong-there-days, but I'm happy to report that all is now well, and I am now (finally) feeling acclimated in my new classroom with my new younger students. And the one thing that has been consistent from day one, and the one thing that has been my feeling-like-I can-do-this is teaching writing. I love to teach writing. I don't really feel like I'm teaching, it's more like this is what I love and you all can do it, too. And they do. And they really seem to like it right along with me. I am grateful for that. I am grateful that my parents gave me the love for writing just by being readers and writers themselves. By surrounding us with books and magazines and more books, my sisters and brother and I are avid readers and love to write.

My dad passed away a year ago. It was three days after Thanksgiving and a part of me went right along with him. Luckily the writing part didn't go away, the part that he gave me is here and stronger than ever. I think he's perched on my shoulder as I write, spurring me on. "Come on Lu, you can do it." I feel his presence with me, especially when I go home to the Cape and I sit in his chair. I think he likes that.

I am grateful. I am grateful to finally feel acclimated in my classroom. I am grateful for my mom and how she is feisty and strong, and doing very well. I am grateful for my siblings and how we get along. I am grateful for my family, for my own kids and how they are finding their way in the world. I am grateful for my partner, Rick, and how we found each other again. Yes, I am grateful.

Oh The Places We'll Go...

I'm working on a new story, a middle-grade novel with the working title, Fairy Girl. I won't divulge too much about the specifics because I find that slows the momentum. I wake early to write, before I get ready to start my day as a 3rd grade teacher, and leap into words. I am often surprised by my characters and where they take me. Almost every day, they reveal more about their personalities and motivations. They amaze me with their insight and their reactions to what's going on around them. I have a basic understanding of my story and where I want it to go. Sometimes, however, my characters have different ideas about that. They often take me for wild rides and I hang on to see where they will lead. I'm sure most writers agree that this is one of the best rides they will ever take. I love to be surprised and to go with the words. It's an amazing experience.

Okay, I'll divulge one thing about my main character's best friend that I didn't know. Lilah can be bossy and gets bored easily. She revealed this about herself just the other morning when she was interacting with Gracie, my protagonist. This is the not-so-nice part of her personality, but then again, we all have not-so-nice parts. That's what makes us human. And that's what makes our characters three-dimensional and realistic. Hopefully it's what makes them jump off the page.

Hold on tight and be amazed! Oh the places we'll go...

The Wonders of Honey

This past weekend, the local county fair was held here in Foster, RI. It's called Old Home Days, and it's for young and old alike, and always held on the last weekend in July. Every year I make a point to stop at the honey booth and buy local honey. This year was no exception. I sampled different varieties using mini plastic spoons, and decided upon the darkest which the gentleman behind the table told me was his least favorite because it tasted like the "M" word. Huh? Oh, it tasted like molasses. Now I thought that was a good thing and decided it was my favorite. Anyway, there are many different types and flavors but all tasty and good for you.

When growing up, I remember my mom and dad drinking a concoction of honey, apple cider vinegar and warm water. Mom made it for the two of them to sip during the day. It was good for them, she told me, as she had seen it in Prevention Magazine. I've learned in the years since that honey has many medicinal qualities including a remedy for arthritis. I love honey in my coffee, in my tea, and on my toast. When I have a sore throat, I eat spoonfuls. When I need a pick me up, I eat a spoonful, or when I just need a sweet fix. It's the one food that never spoils.

I read the book, Thank you, Mr. Falker by Patricia Palacco, to my students at the beginning of the school year. It's a story of how a young girl can't read until her 5th grade teacher takes the time to teach her. This story is about Patricia herself as a young girl. I love how the students come to understand that this girl who once couldn't read now writes and illustrates beautiful books for children. This is my favorite line from the story: "...Honey is sweet, and so is knowledge, but knowledge is like the bee who made the honey, it has to be chased through the pages of a book."

Ah...the wonders of honey.

The Power of Words

Summer is here, and while I love the summer with no set schedules, reading books by the hour, jaunting to the beach, and the warm, sultry air, I am still thinking about the last few weeks of school, and the students I will miss next year. Teaching 5th grade is unique in that you don't get to see your former students grow and mature the following school year. They are off at a new school with new teachers, new classes, and new adventures. And it never fails, that with the new school year I inevitably miss my former students. At least for awhile, until I get to know and fall in love with my new students. I'm sure this coming year will be no different.

As you probably know by now, I love teaching writing to my students. We usually write first thing in the morning, and if the stars are in our favor, and there are no interruptions, and the kids are enjoying it, we may keep going for a full 45 minutes to an hour. Shhhhh...don't tell. Most of my kids love this part of our day.

This year, Ellie wasn't easily impressed or motivated to write. It was a struggle and she told me so. I worked with her and then let her fly (discovering at some point, that there was lots of pressure from the home front to succeed), and hoped she would find some joy in writing. She progressed immensely throughout the year and it was my hope that she was enjoying it, but I was never quite sure she ever did. But during the last week of school, we spent an hour in the courtyard (a beautiful outdoor space filled with flowers and benches in the center of our little country school) for popcorn poetry. This is a time where we eat popcorn and write poetry. The kids love it! It's a time to talk, share, eat, and marvel at the surroundings. It's a time for writing what we hear, see, touch, and are feeling.

The kids shared pieces of the poems they were working on, and some boys even wrote song lyrics. I was sitting near Ellie and we were talking about writing and I shared with her some things about writing that my mom had shared with me years before. How there are thousands of words to choose from and countless ways to arrange them, and it's how you string them together that makes up stories and poetry. Well, the last day of school, she handed me a gift (hummingbird earrings because I had told her I loved them), and a handmade card with a poem. Here is the poem:


Writing
by: Ellie

Poems, essays, stories
All put together by
words
Writing is lovely language


About a week before this, a student from the previous year came to see me. After giving me a hug, she handed me a piece of paper and told me it was a poem she had written and dedicated to me.

Shade
by: Emily

It cools me in the summer heat
The shade is pretty hard to beat
Unless the searing heat
Evaporates the trees
Or burns them down
The trees will always be around

The shade will always serve
As a place
To cool your face
When the going gets tough
We calm down
And look around
At all that we can see

The seas of trees
The hard and smooth pond
The fleets of flowers
Are all encompassed by one thing
The shade

I dedicate this poem to my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Murphy. She always helped me when I needed
inspiration to write. Because of her, I will be a writer and a teacher just like her when I get older. Mrs. Murphy is the whole reason I love to write today. She can turn anything into a lovely written piece so I will work hard until I can as well. Thank you, Mrs. Murphy for opening my eyes to the wonders of writing. I will always remember you.

Both of these poems touch me beyond words and reinforce the pleasure and power of teaching.