A trip down literary lane

When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does. - Meg Ryan as Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail

Nursery rhymes. The most recent Poem Off topic got me reminiscing about things I heard and read as a kiddo. I think there 's a lot of truth to the quote above, don't you? Whether you read a little or a lot as a child, it tends to stick with you. With that in mind, come with me on this memory lane jaunt, revisiting some of my early influences--just a small sampling. Maybe it'll jog your memory too.

I've always loved reading. I guess I came by that naturally: both of my parents love to read, and my mom is a retired librarian. When I was very young, most nights my dad would read me a book that he let me pick out. I loved those times. One book in particular got chosen a lot. Horton Hatches the Egg was a Christmas gift from a neighbor. I can still hear the promise Horton repeated time after time: "I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful one hundred percent!" It's a great book. I mean, how can you go wrong with Dr. Seuss? ...And a flying elephant-bird, for goodness' sake?

The Bible also captured my imagination. Sunday school each week was filled with incredible stories! The older I get the more convinced I am that God is the master storyteller. ...A boy killing a giant with a slingshot, a talking donkey, a short, little man who climbs a tree to see Jesus, a city's wall falling after only marching and shouting, a man falling out of a window and dying (and coming back to life!) because he fell asleep, walking on water... who else could make up this stuff? And it's all true! Genius, to understate the obvious.


Poetry. Not everyone associates little kids and classic poetry recitation. Mrs. Ables, my second grade teacher sure did, and it scared the jeepers out of me. We had to choose between two poems, memorize it, and recite it in front of class. Despite being the bold tomboy that I was back then, that thought made me nervous. Mrs. Ables encouraged us by reciting a poem her teacher made her memorize in second grade. My eyes got big. I didn't know that someone "old" like her could remember that far back. (Oh, how perspectives change!) I chose Robert Lewis Stevenson's "The Swing," and even survived reciting it for my class.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!


Ramona Quimby was another one of my literary buddies. I loved Beverly Cleary's books about this little girl around my age, and by coincidence we even had the same awful haircut. It made me feel a little better about that. I saw a lot of myself in her and her family, and it was plain fun following her escapades.

I've already had a request for a post about literary influences as an adult. That will come later. For now, I'd love to know what stories you remember from your childhood.

The Battle Rages On...

...in the second round of the Poem Off. Make sure you go to Travis W. Inman's blog to read the entries and vote. Fireworks, giants, treasure chests -- this battle has something for everyone. Voting ends Thursday morning!

I'm still wondering what the prize will be.

Year of Hmmm...

It's hard for me to believe, but today it's been one year since I started this blog. It's been more fun than I imagined. That's thanks to all of you who read and participate--I appreciate it. Hopefully you'll keep finding reasons to be a part of this. Thanks again.

Rhyme and Reason

Happy Thursday to all...

Don't forget to enter the latest Poem Off over at Travis W. Inman's blog. This should be a really fun one. I have no idea what my finished product will be like, but it's starting to churn in my head. Entries are due by this Sunday night.

Switching gears, I have a little update for you. Some of you ask me from time to time how my writing is going. I had a couple of developments last week. First, I found out that another member of the writers' group I've been attending decided to help me along in my writing pursuits. =) This is a dear, older gentleman who always has a twinkle in his eye and something up his sleeve. From our group time he had a copy of a couple of my poems--one I had actually labored over, and one I threw together for a group assignment. My phone rings a couple of weeks later, and it's a writing professor who helps publish a local, periodic, literary gazette. Apparently the gentleman took it upon himself to submit my poems for me. They're being considered for inclusion in the publication, and the professor said they'll most likely be in there. She realized that I didn't know they were submitted and called to get my permission. Not to take anything away from the other writers, but while it's a compliment, this isn't like winning Poet Laureate status. Still, it's nice to hopefully be included. Now I need to be extra careful what I bring to the group!

Update Number Two: I registered for the Glorieta Christian Writers' Conference in October. I'm very, very excited (grinning as I write this)! Three hundred-plus attendees and lots of professional writers, editors, and agents will be there. I've been thinking and praying about this for months--David, too. I've been torn partly because that's the same time as Reality Weekend, one of the biggest events for our youth group each year. Isn't it often a challenge to struggle with multiple priorities and callings on your life? I felt guilty for even considering "skipping out" on our teenagers, and had about decided not to go to the conference. But after more prayer and talking with David, we decided together that God wants me to go. David is so supportive, which is invaluable to me.

While there I'm hoping ta lurn how ta write bettur, maybe meet some new friends, and learn more about the business, which is fascinating to me. It's still hard for me sometimes to tell people that God has called me to write, especially since I don't know what direction He wants me to take. But I do know that He wants me to make tracks to Glorieta...and I can't wait to go.

Let's get ready to rumble!

Here we go again...it's time for another Poem-Off!

But this time, someone else is hosting the festivities and will provide the prize. If you haven't done so already, head on over to Travis W. Inman's blog and join in the vote!

Just Like Riding a Bike

Here's my latest little ditty I created for the writers' group. The challenge was to write a story about something funny that's happened to you.

It was a perfect day. Blue skies, mild temperatures, the sound of a soft breeze in the palm trees, and the vibrant scent of orchids—a beautiful Florida afternoon. My parents, sister, and I were enjoying our vacation thoroughly. It would be the last vacation with just the four of us before I got married in a few months. Melissa, my older sister, had been given a free week at a timeshare resort in Orlando and wanted to share it with the rest of the family. …So there we were, relaxing at this large, hilly resort filled with condos.

The property offered lots of activities for its guests. Swimming, tennis, walking trails…and biking, among other things. “Hmm,” Melissa and I mused while deciding how to spend the afternoon. “How about getting a couple of bikes?” she suggested. Sure, why not? I thought. It’ll be fun. We haven’t ridden bikes in years, but how hard could it be? Just like riding a bike, right? I chuckled inwardly at my own wittiness. As we chose our bicycles from a small supply outside the main lobby, I could already picture Melissa and me, gazing at the trees and plants along the bike path, riding gracefully.

There was one problem with that picture: The resort had no bike paths. In reality our ride would meander through the narrow roads of the property, lined with cars in parking spaces next to the three-story buildings. “That’s okay,” I said with a carpe diem attitude.

“You ready? Let’s go.” Melissa was pedaling, and I hurried to mount my bike and follow her. The ride turned out to be just as pleasant and fun as I’d pictured, only with towering buildings instead of towering trees. The wind in my face and hair was refreshing, and it felt good simply to be alive. I took a deep breath and smiled.

Then we gained speed as we headed down a hill. Just then, my eyes suddenly came into sharp focus. Melissa, looking like a Tour de France rider, made a skillful, last-minute right turn onto a side street. She quickly disappeared from sight, assuming I was behind her. I jolted to attention and scrambled to follow, leaning to the right as much as I dared.

Bonk! It was too late. I rebounded on my bike as my front tire ran perpendicular into the front tire of an SUV. I blinked in surprise. …The SUV was expensive. The SUV was running. The SUV was occupied, waiting to turn onto the road we’d been following. Stunned but not hurt, I sat on my bike and stared at two sets of eyes staring back at me, about three feet from my face. The eyes’ owners were a middle-aged man and one who appeared to be the man’s son and about my age. I was speechless and mortified. The car engine’s humming filled the silence.

Finally, the man turned and said something in Italian to his son. The son had an annoyed expression on his face, but he slowly slid from his seat and came around the front of the SUV to me. I was desperate to not look as ridiculous as I felt. Luckily, my shock led me utter brilliance. Shifting into the mindset I’ve had after car fender benders, I blurted to this guy, “Are you okay?” --Like my innocuous bicycle could inflict bodily harm through the armor of a car. I cringed at my words and turned crimson. The Italian son stifled a smile and said nothing. I settled on rolling back a couple of feet, and we looked over the SUV. No damage; the car would live. Unlike my dignity. We all muttered some sort of farewell, and I wheeled toward where I’d last seen my sister.

Seconds later, she glided up to me. “Where have you been?”