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Writers write. I write all kinds of stuff. Little bits and pieces of stories, musings and observations, occasionally poetry. Welcome to a few of the random scribbles here.


Best Day Ever: Every Author Visit Day!

scfevisit2

Recently, I visited St. Croix Falls Elementary School in Wisconsin. I love this school! The energy of the students and teachers hums through the hallways like a happy tune. They’re readers. They’re inquirers (oh! the questions they ask!). They’re listeners. One of the girls there wore a pink shirt that said, “Best Day Ever,” and I couldn’t agree more! Author Visit Day is the BEST, especially when the school or library prepares and promotes it.

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Writing Retreats…Wink, Wink

AnnWritingRetreatRiver

My husband smiles politely when I say I’m going on a writing retreat, as if there were air quotes around it. “’Writing retreat’?” he says. “Sure. Have fun.” He’s truly supportive of my writing career. But like many other people, he thinks writing retreats are a euphemism for shopping, partying, or sleeping in a hammock near the river at our land in northern Wisconsin (okay, I admit I have thought about the last one). But that’s not what a writing retreat is to me.

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Road Rash And Natalie Goldberg

NatalieGoldbergLoft

On a breezy almost-summer day, I walked from the University of Minnesota to the Loft Literary Center to hear Natalie Goldberg speak (author of Writing Down the Bones, The Great Spring, and many other books). I was wearing a new sassy dress and feeling happy to hear one of my writing rock stars.

Then my sandal caught on the sidewalk edge and I could not catch myself. I biffed. Hard. My knee became my brake, using friction like a cheese grater to stop my momentum. The rough concrete sliced my fingers and hands. And if that wasn’t enough mortification, my flouncy dress was up over my butt for all of the Washington Avenue traffic to see.

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Writing Rock Stars

CandaceFleming

Meeting Candace Fleming (above) was pure luck, back in 2009. On the other hand, I stalked M. T. Anderson at a book fair once. With my children. They haven't forgiven me.

I’ll admit it, writers are my rock stars. But not just the famous writers. My writing critique group. My writing colleagues. The writers I teach in workshops. They’re committed. They’re enthusiastic. They’re talented. They’re learners. In my world, they all rock.

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