Wow! We’ve had more snow in Portland than (I think I heard correctly on the news last night) we’ve had in 21 years. My sister Cathy came over and we tromped through it together. Just like old times! (She’s the one sitting in front of the snowman and I’m behind it–in the year we lived
As 2013 draws to an end, I’ve had the crowdfunding blues a bit. I’ve joined the crowdfunding team in the past year or so, but only as a contributor. Here and there, I’ve pitched a few pennies toward projects launched by friends of mine. Mostly I do philanthropy the old-fashioned way. I write checks. I
The ancient Egyptians believed in the magic of the written word–so a cartouche (that rope symbol) around the the hieroglyphs that spell out the name of a king or queen is there as protection from evil-doers who might mess with that name and thus do damage to the person in this world or the next. We often
I never intended to crawl under the bed and stay there. Yes, it’s scary and hard and unnerving to take pieces of your innards and put them out for everyone to see. But I’ve survived a lot of scary things in my life. Once, I watched my dad in a wild windstorm clinging to the
When Jon Klassen gave his Caldecott speech at ALA this summer, he talked about the astonishment and, oh, maybe even terror he feels when he sees his books in a bookstore or anywhere else out in the world. Wait! How did that escape from my house? How, um, EXPOSING is that? I gave two VCFA
Why, we wonder, do bad things happen to good people? We don’t ask why good things happen to good people. But in a world with so much sorrow and aching, don’t good things amaze, too? One of those good things happens every summer in this little building by the Pacific Ocean: a week-long writing course
It’s tough times for writers of children’s books. All of the things that hit education and libraries in the United States also hit children’s books. And families live busy, distracted lives–sometimes too busy to read; sometimes too busy to visit a bookstore. And publishing is centered in a city of devastatingly expensive real estate. I
It was a super busy week–the ending of the semester for Vermont College of the Fine Arts students and faculty. I don’t know where my brain was when I drew up the semester’s schedule. Oh wait. As I wrote to several of my students…it was on painkillers. So when I got a box of the
My dad did not love school. He did not love reading (or at least not until my mom had hold of him for many years :>) He had a curious mind, though, and a way of grabbing hold of baffling ideas and wrestling them through and then turning his conclusions into stories. Growing up in a
Do one thing. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? In The Oregonian article I was reading while keeping my mom company this morning, the one thing was to ditch harmful chemicals used to clean toilet bowls and, instead, sprinkle baking soda in the evening and wake to sparkling white. Hmmm. So much to do in
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