A Story Written to Introduce My Daughter to Her 1st Grade Class

Once upon a time there was a girl named Spitfire who loved books.  She read morning, noon, and night.  She read mythology at the breakfast table, stories about magic on the drive to school, and long sagas involving princesses, horses, and dragons late into the night.  Sometimes she even sprinkled letters into her cereal by accident and ate them.  When she finished a story, she would open her magical box of costumes, and coax her brother to act out the stories.  He became a valiant prince or guard, she a heroic queen or wicked witch.  They’d sneak to the kitchen where their mother, a poor wench of a kitchen maid, was toiling over boiling pots, and snatch her away from her servitude to join their adventures.

Now, Spitfire loved stories not just because they were magical and came alive for her, but also because they taught her about the world, about things she might never see or experience on her own.  After all, she was just a young girl who lived in a small house with her smallish family in a cozy neighborhood in the city.  There was a lot to see there, but it was just a fraction of what was out in the big wide world, and all the history of the globe before us.  What could she know about the life of a frontier family settling the Great Plains or a French orphan gamboling around the streets of Paris?  How could she imagine the feats of the young god struggling to become a hero in the shadow of Mount Olympus, or the wishes granted by a magical genie who pops out of an ancient lamp?  Through books, she could learn all about the vast and endless world, and know all the most interesting characters.  She could even learn how to solve problems.

The heroes of the girl’s stories, and sometimes even the villains, became her best friends.  She loved them infinitely.  And she also loved her real friends with every tiny chamber of her heart.  One day, Spitfire’s friend Isabelle had a problem and couldn’t figure out what to do.  She was terribly sad.  Spitfire listened to Isabelle (which is sometimes the best thing you can do for a friend) and really wanted to help her so she would be happy again.  Neither of them knew the answer.  Spitfire thought and thought, but she had never tackled a problem like this before, and problem solving takes practice.  She was starting to despair, too, when a glimmer of a thought struck her—she suddenly remembered when a character in one of her books (a princess, no less) had a similar problem, and remembered exactly what the princess’s friends had done to help her.  In fact, she and her brother had acted out that very scene while careening over the beds and leaping over the old dog in their very own house.  And she had a wonderful idea.

Instead of explaining to Isabelle how to solve her problem, Spitfire invited her friend to delve into the magical box of costumes.  They got dressed in the most splendid dresses they could find, donned their most comfortable shoes—for adventures called for rugged footwear—and armed themselves with any tools they might need for their saga, including a trusty plastic sword for each (you never know when a princess and her maid might encounter a villain—and though, of course, it’s best to solve problems with your words, it’s also best to be prepared—those villains are awfully hard to convince).  Then Spitfire helped Isabelle act out the solution to her problem, and they had a wild adventure, to boot.  Isabelle was so relieved to find a way to solve her problem, and Spitfire was proud to have been able to help.

When Isabelle went home, Spitfire settled into her favorite reading spot with a new book and got so engrossed in the story she couldn’t put it down, even when her mom called her to come to dinner.  They finally had to come to a compromise—that Spitfire could come to dinner dressed in full armor, no matter how much she clanked at the table, and she could go back to her story when they were through.

 Poster for the song "The Princess Who Saved Herself"

by Jonathan Coulton (a favorite song for our daily school commute)

#10

For community, all those trusted souls I turn to in times good and bad.  For the ever-changing sky that reminds me storms will pass, the sun will scorch and then ebb back into another hemisphere for a season, cumulus days will return, and the future will still hold as much love as we can cram into each day.

Grammarian humor, author-agent speed dating, and the Fabulous GK

For quite a while now, I've been following the blog of a literary agent who manages to be both informative and witty--in truth, it's the only blog I follow regularly, considering my daily scramble to keep up with Spitfire and Boy Wonder.  (All apologies to my writer friends who are also informative and witty--even scintillating, at times--and whose blogs I have sorely neglected.)

But Agency Gatekeeper (self-nicknamed "GK") graciously gives the inside scoop about the publishing world and the life and work of an agent in colorful detail (often down to the homemade treats she plans to serve her book club).  Wanna know about what happens at publishing parties?  How close knit the publishing community is?  How about learning all the various pitfalls not to fall into as a querying writer?  GK to the rescue!  (See the lovely Superheroine GK I created below, thanks to Marvel's website.)  She provides proof that literary agents are thoughtful people who love books (and authors, provided they're not too crazy) and who really put a lot of heart into their work.

She recently posted about grammar mishaps in manuscripts, a la misused words or phrases, that us sticklers often find either loathsome or hilarious, or both (I tend toward humor or confusion myself).  It took me back to my days of teaching at the university, spending a bit too much time explaining to Freshman Comp students that "try and..." (versus "try to...") and "would of" (versus "would've") that could better have been used in some rousing critical discussion and thinking (yes! freshman are capable of just that).

But my favorite grammatical mishaps came from the couple of years I taught Business Writing to upperclassmen preparing to graduate from the business college.  In fact, I kept a catalogue for a while (long since lost) of the most amusing turns of phrase.  The most popular was a spell check error that somehow turned all of my business majors into thespians and Halloween party purveyors servicing their "costumers."  But I have to admit, my favorite was the former cop who wrote in an introductory letter to me that he had been a "piece officer."  Before I could stop myself, I wrote in the margin, "Is that as in 'packing a piece'?  I thought it was as in 'keeping the peace.'"

Ah, but enough about me.  If the book I'm currently working on (whoops, me again!) makes it anywhere close to a publisher's desk, I will owe a great debt to The Fabulous Miss GK and her insider tips, not to mention her ego-boosting examples of ridiculous things the competition does to fumble their chances.  Here's a link to a great GK post on something I'd never even imagined existed: author-agent speed dating.

Enjoy!

Want to know how not to alienate potential agents?  GK to the rescue!

#9

For food in my belly, good food.  A solid roof over my head.  For peace on my doorstep.  For access to education for every member of my family.  For the library, which provides so much of it (for free!).  For freedom.  For the lovely mouths I feed each day.  The clean clothes I wrap my beloveds in.  The love I cloak them in.  And for love... and for love... and for love... everywhere it comes home to roost.

#8

For the citrus smell that lingers on my hands after I peel an orange to share with my son.  As Pablo Neruda wrote, "Orange, / the world was made / in your likeness."  I can share the world with him, bit by bit, the sweet and freshness of it, and carry some reminiscence with me.

#7

For unexpected opportunities, like my in-laws from across the country potentially moving in to our guest house, and the extended possibility that my brother-in-law might come, too, from China.  You never know how the trajectory of your life might turn on a dime, in a day, and how perceived tragedies might bring with them unexpected blessings.

#6

During a week bookended by holidays, I spotted a butterfly flitting about my neighborhood on Christmas Eve, drove two hours north to meet Santa on a train and play in the snow, narrowly escaped being stranded by a blizzard, saw snow flurries in north Phoenix, and watched Spitfire take her first tentative steps on a pair of roller skates.  Despite never really having settled in to life in the desert, this week has held a mystique that can't be found in many places, and reminds me to appreciate what this place has to offer.  After all, if you can't be with the one you love... love the one you're with.