Vanished

It could've been the slim little Love is the Higher Law. Or Pobby and Dingan. Or even Metamorphosis.

It could've been any one of a thousand skinny reads.

But it wasn't.

I lost the 1074-page Stephen King book Under the Dome.

It's gone.

Seriously gone.

I know it's gone, because this house is only 1,300 square feet, and that book is one foot by one foot its very self.

It didn't slip through the couch cushions. It's not under the bed.

Thirty-five dollars: that's what the library is charging me for it.

The most expensive book I've ever "bought."

Difficulty

Writing is hard. Really hard. It is, according to Paul Silva of How to Write A Lot, "frustrating, complicated, and un-fun." He quotes New York journalist Wiliam Zinsser (2001) as saying, "If you find that writing is hard, it's because it is hard."

I tell myself this on days like today. Days when I need to start what will be a huge revision process. Days I avoid that by spending an hour with second graders who are trying to find whether they can use electromagnetic forces to erase gravity.

Defying gravity.

Suitable to writing, don't you think?

And now, my pen to paper, the ink seeps from that invisible pull.



(Extra love-points for anyone who knows why that image is included.)

At Maximum Capacity, With Room For Some Good News

It's the end of the term, of winter term. There's a stack of 30 analysis papers in my living room. And a pile of 10 billion Legoes on the floor.

Conferences are coming up. For my students. For my kids. Grades are due. Bills are due.

I didn't even realize yesterday (the FOURTH) was March, and forgot to pay the piano teacher.

I left my grading sheet (!) at school.

I left my phone at my friend Wendi's house. So I missed my first ever call FROM AN AGENT!

But!

Things are really really good right now.

My marriage is strong, and will be even better when Dave gets off shift today.

My kids are healthy.

There's enough fruit to throw in the blender for a smoothie.

"Brookyn's Finest" opens tonight, and I'm a sucker for a good bad-cop movie.

We get to go to "Grease." For free.

The daffodils are right outside my door, if I'm in doubt that spring will ever come.

It's my friend Leslie's birthday and she's having a Circus Party.

Christy sold book rights to Russia!

AAAAAnnnnnddddd....

An agent I enormously admire has completely renewed my faith in YA writing. I absolutely LOVED my conversation with her yesterday, and am hoping whole-heartedly.