Countdown Wednesday

Today, Mom and I are counting down about poetry.

My Countdown

3. Words – Mom has lots of special words for me. Some of them are “leave it,” “stop it,” and “get down.”

Aren’t they sweet? I’m pretty sure they all mean I’m being a good girl. Other special words are, “wanna come?” “treat,” and “car.” Mom and I really understand each other.

Huh??

6. Names – I have a LOT of names besides Cupcake. Some of them are “WhatInTheWorld,” “DoYouWantASpankin?” “Naughty,” and “Stubborn.”

16. Funny – Sometimes I am hilarious. I’m sneaky, playful, and mischievous. I know Mom loves all of that. Most of the time she says, “That’s not funny anymore.” But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean that the way it sounds. I am a riot.

Mom’s Countdown

3. Words – Poems have lots of special words. They rhyme, they sing, and they rock and roll. That’s what makes poetry poetry.

Rock and what…?

26. Names – Mom has been working on some poems this week. Sometimes she changes the titles over and over to make them more fun and unusual. She also changes other things in the poems to make them more poetic and sillier. Silly is a good thing in a poem. And in a doggie.

9. Funny – Funny poems are Mom’s favorite kind. The best ones are a little funny along the way, with a crazy twist at the end. No twist. No good.

Help..

Five Word Friday

Today’s five words come from one of Mom’s new stories.

16. Gum – I love gum. Yes, it’s true that I have never had gum and Mom says I never will, but I’m pretty sure I love it. Gum hides in Mom’s purse sometimes and once in a while it’s in the grocery bag, or in drawers that I can’t reach.

8. Crashing – I crash land a lot. It happens when I run and slide and when I try to fly across the room or leap onto something I can’t reach. Mom crashes when a story or poem she wrote gets rejected. After her crashes she rallies by making revisions and trying again. After my crashes,  I run to Mom and beg for a treat to make me feel better.

720. Eggs – Once Mom wrote a poem about an egg that wasn’t an egg. It was really just a rock. So yeah. She wrote a poem about a rock. That’s how rejection happens… I’m just sayin’. I like to collect toys and things (like Mom’s glasses) and tuck them under my tummy on the couch. I try to hatch them like eggs. So far, nothing has hatched.

47. Tricks – I know lots of tricks. I can roll, bowl,

high five, sniff out a hidden treat, knock down a pile of paper cups,

and of course, dance.

Mom uses tricks a lot in her writing. She tries to make interesting characters have unusual goals, encounter a bunch of obstacles, and in a tricky ending, she surprises the reader.

5. Sleep – I sleep in Mom’s bed. She says, “Move over, chubby.” and “How can such a tiny dog take up so much space?” and sometimes, “This is my worst story ever. It will put editors to sleep!”

Seriously, though. A whole poem about a rock?   Z-z-z-z-z…

 

 

 

Flapping in the Wind

Some kite flying kids had an early end to their fun spring day. Their kite got stuck in a tree.

They threw stuff at it, but no luck. It just stayed up there, flapping in the wind. Of course they didn’t throw as much stuff at it as the kid in the book Stuck (one of Mom’s all-time favorites), but they gave it a shot.

I get stuck sometimes. Never in a tree – not yet, anyway. But stuck nonetheless.

In the back seat

Between pillows

Behind my blanket-bed

Below the dugout bench

On a wall

Inside the sheets

Or under the bed

Mom isn’t stuck with her writing, but she’s stuck in a rut of not submitting anything. Since, apparently, nothing gets published on the dining room table, she has a plan. She will submit 10 stories and/or poems in the month of July.

Once things are “out there” then we will have some suspense and something to look forward to. Book 2? Maybe. Ebook 2? Possibly. Something fun is bound to happen.

Meanwhile, I will look forward to ….cake

and kisses.

 

 

 

 

Two Sides

My face is two different colors. Three actually, but down by my nose there’s a brown side and a white side.

They’re as different as different can be, right down to the whiskers. White on the white side…

…and black on the brown side.

 

Mom’s writing has two different sides lately, too. Poetry and prose. She worked and worked on a story and kept getting stuck. She worked on other things, came back to the story, and got stuck again. And again.

Today, she decided to take that stuck story idea and make it into a poem. As different as can be, but she’s not stuck anymore.

Let’s go!

Sometimes in hiking, there’s a special mark saying that the path splits.

We’re careful to choose the right path. Usually it’s pretty easy to tell.

No…

Clear sailing…

For Mom, the correct path seems to be the poem for now. Clear sailing.

 

 

Unthinkable!

This is incredible! Unbelievable! Mind-boggling! Unthinkable! Inconceivable! It’s… it’s…. it’s… Summer School times TWO!

 

Mom is smack in the middle of Kidlit Summer School…

and all of a sudden on August 1st Lyrical Language Lab started up.

Do you see what’s happening here? She’s studying TWO summer schools at once! Reading stories, writing stories, reading poems, writing poems. It’s out of control!

You’re probably wondering what I’m doing while all this reading and writing and writing and reading is going on. Nuthin’ that’s what.

I just wait…

and wait…

and wait.

For a whole HOUR – which feels like 2 hours or 8 hours or 67 hours. Ugh! Thank goodness Mom still sets the clock for her writing time, so when her iPad chimes, she can play with me again.

Anybody want to throw the squeaky corn on the cob toy? Anybody…?

After what seems like 975 hours, we finally get to walk around outside, go to the park…

and on Saturday (AFTER summer school), we even went to work at the Veteran’s Home so I could see all my old soldier friends and make them smile.

 

Mom says, “I’m learning a lot.” and “School is fun.” and I say, “When the heck is summer VACATION!!??”

 

 

 

Inspirational Quote of the Week

All the effort in the world won’t matter if you’re not inspired.
Chuck Palahniuk

Experiences inspire ideas. Mom has completed her PiBoIdMo challenge with 35 inspired ideas for new stories.

Some of her ideas will become picture book manuscripts. Some will become poems. One of them might become the elusive Book #2 or eBook #2. Some of them stink so bad that they will stay in her phone and rot. But somewhere, somehow, all of them were inspired for a few minutes by an experience during the month of November.

At her author visits, students or teachers often ask Mom if she ever has writer’s block. She says, “Never.” That’s because as long as she has a list of ideas, even if one story gets stuck, there are a bunch of other stories just waiting to get started.

I was inspired last night, so I started playing the piano with my paws…

…and my face.

Mom came in to see what was inspiring me. Was I a genius and she was just finding out? No. Did I suddenly get skills that no dog in the world ever had? No. Would I play at Carnegie Hall and be famous? No. There was a fly in the house. And I wanted a closer look at it.

*Not actual fly

The fly disappeared after my concert, and later he met with an unfortunate end. Rest in peace, little fly. I think you would’ve been delicious.

*Not actual fly tombstone

Switcheroo Day

This is how my toy box has looked for the past couple of months. This morning, Mom decided to switch out these toys for the bag of toys that was hidden in the closet.

She does that every now and then. So half of my toys are always out and ready for me and half are always hidden away. On Switcheroo Day, it feels like Mom went shopping and bought me a big bunch of new toys!

Yay! Hello, peppermint ball. I’ve missed you… Plus I forgot I ever even had you!

Mom plays Switcheroo Day with her stories, too. She is working on two stories and a poem at the same time. She switches back and forth and back and forth between them each day. She says, “This one is flying along.” and “GAH! I only wrote 6 words in a half hour.” and “Who’s going to clean up this mess?”

The stories (if she ever finishes them) will be her November and December 12×12 stories. Neither story is about me. One is about pajamas and one is about a cyclops. Maybe the poem will be about my peppermint ball. In fact, I can write that poem myself….

….I want it to say, “Peppermint ball, peppermint ball,

You make my breath smell sweet.

I’ll toss you, chew you, roll you around,

And hold you with my feet.”

On second thought, I’ll leave the poetry writing to Mom….

Inspirational Quote of the Week

It is common sense to take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.

~Franklin D. Roosevelt~

Trying something is important. This Roosevelt guy knows what he’s talking about. What would life be like if we didn’t try? Mom tries all the time. She tries to write awesome stories.

She tries to write funny poems.

She tries to get unusual ideas and to dream up unique characters.

Even though Roosevelt says to – she doesn’t frankly admit failure, but she does keep on trying something.

I try all the time, too. I try to sit on my ParkIt Mat.

This is boring…

I try to reach things on the table.

I try to fetch the ball and to walk past things even if they’re scary.

Like Mom, I never admit failure. I only admit, “Oh well.” and “Maybe next time.” and “Is that pumpkin trying to kill me?”

*gulp*

New Strategy

Every day when I am halfway through eating my dinner, I slide the bowl around the kitchen until I’m able to pick it up in my mouth. Then I carry it onto the little rug in the living room. Once I get it settled there (IF it doesn’t flip over and splash food everywhere), I finish eating my food and then try to eat the bowl. So far, I have been unsuccessful with that goal.

The other day, I decided to try a new strategy. It’s called eating-on-the-leather-chair.

Mom was happy and excited when she saw me. She said the things she always says when I impress her with how smart I am – like, “Oh no you didn’t!” and “What did those jackasses in your head tell you to do now?” and “You’re going to get a spankin’.” I love when she says that. It sounds so much like, “You’re going to get some bacon.” Bacon. Yum….

I’m ready for my bacon, Mom.

Mom is trying a new strategy with her writing this week. Each day, she works on a story for a half hour and then she works on a poem for a half hour. Her idea lists from PiBoIdMo and her other lists are getting too, too long. She thinks she can use them up faster if some of them become poems. Also, she wants to enter a poetry contest, so she needs some new poems to submit. She said, “Poems are fun.” and “This one is about you, Cupcake.” and “Some of these ideas are too stupid to live another day.”

We should put those bad ideas in the garbage. Let me check and maybe clear out some of the more delicious… I mean bulky trash to make room….

Unexpected

Picture books and poems work better if they have something unexpected in them. Besides originality, an opening that captures the reader, complex characters, conflict, cause and effect, solution, setting, wordplay, rising stakes, humor, a satisfying ending, and a dog….

… (OK. I made that last one up.), a story needs a surprise. It could be a dragon who likes to cook, crayons that make magic drawings, baby birds hatching inside a motorcycle helmet,

 Photos courtesy of Gemma – http://firstandfabulous.wordpress.com

a super hero baby, or a dog who paints like an artist….. Unexpected surprises. They help make stories and poems more FUN.

I found an unexpected surprise outside by the laundry room stairs, yesterday.

A hairbrush. Why?

Wait! What??

Why is there a hairbrush in the grass outside? Were neighbors fixing their hair before doing laundry? Was a student walking to school doing her hair because she was late? Is the groomer from Petco hiding behind a tree waiting to brush my fur?

What will happen to the hairbrush? Will spiders move in between the bristles and build webs? Will grasshoppers walk through and think they’re in a forest? Will a baseball fly over the garages and land on top of it? Will the lawn guys mow it?

If it’s still there tomorrow, I am going to taste it. I hope the super doesn’t come by and put it in the garbage when he cleans up…. That would be NO FUN.